[And that's not acceptable, that frown. Prior scowls at it, walking a step-kick line with his fingertips that begins at Dorian's closed fist and - taking in the sights of elbow and bicep, with a significant detour up the pulse point at his throat - presses a thumbprint to the corner of his lips. No, it won't do.]
You don't have to assume anything I want to tell me what you do. It's a risk, I suppose, but you've walked into battles with your hands on fire, you can't be averse to those.
That comes more naturally than this, you know. One of them makes you look like a dashing hero, the other makes you look like a bumbling fool. Of course, you could look it anyway, if you set the wrong thing ablaze, but...
[He trails off before he can prattle on, mustering up a smile in some attempt to lighten the mood.]
I know that any time we've spent together wasn't just to get you into bed. Not that it isn't a wonderful side benefit that you are, and I wouldn't have you again if you ever called, but... I like you, Prior. I understand if you're sated, and things will go back to have they've been, but I'd prefer if they didn't.
[For tonight. He couldn't go again after a night like that if he was fifteen and still capable of olympic grade masturbation, good grief. It's not what Dorian means, of course, and of course Prior knows that - it just makes him a little crazy how easily Dorian thinks he could be dismissed. Understandable, given the history they briefly toured through, but absurd all the same, to anyone that can have known him half a minute. All that showy armor, all that showy bravado, all to hide the vulnerable parts underneath.
Prior sighs, and affects a tone both grave and final.] But things can't go back to how they were.
[A beat, before the stone cracks, his mouth twitching.]
It would take steel I don't have to walk behind you in future and act like I'm not thinking I could knock myself out bouncing a quarter off your ass. I mean, my god.
[And the veneer's shattered now, Prior clutching both hands to his chest, playacting some kind of mix of awe and horror. And then Dorian's getting both arms full of him, if he's amenable. Finally willing to answer with something honest.]
It's certainly more than a casual interest, for me. More than sex. Though that's a sideline I'd be sad to have to give up.
[Dorian can appreciate a variety of different tones - it makes the matter less serious, puts him less on the spot, softens what might be an inevitable blow. But that blow, that disappointment, as familiar as it is painful, doesn't come.
He manages more of a grin than a grim smile, the tension threatening to build in his shoulders leaves him. Enough to comfortable taking Prior into his arms.]
That isn't how you walk behind me already? I don't know if my pride can recover. Perhaps this was all a mistake.
[He might have reacted badly, if some part of him weren't already waiting to hear it. Thank the Maker he's not an idiot. Instead, he occupies himself with running his fingers through Prior's hair.]
This is the part where you tell me you've been having a roommate romance, and I scold you for not telling me.
Well there's no point now, you've stolen all my thunder.
[It's unlikely Prior would be here if he didn't suspect Dorian already knew. He doesn't hide things well, apparently. A shame, he could have been some hot-shot Republican lawyer right now, if he did.]
It's true. Miles just showed up with that forehead hunch he gets when he's thinking, and clothes from the juniors department, and stole my heart.
[Still not sure of Dorian's feelings (how he hates the word fine, let him count the ways) there's some hesitation before going on, as he tries to tread carefully around them.]
Though we do make quite the triple threat, don't we? All of us the disgraced scions of some ancient name. If I'd known that was my type I could have hooked up with that one cousin no one likes to talk about.
[He chuckles, at least. It's halfhearted, but not dismissive at it could be.]
Is it truly a surprise, or are you purposely scraping from the bottom of the barrel in terms of our pasts? [He takes a breath, looking ahead into the darkness of the room.] ... I consider Byerly my friend. And Maker knows there isn't anything I could keep from him if I wanted to.
Well damn, that ruins my next shopping trip. If one must keep an illicit secret, one should do it in style. La femme fatale: dark glasses, a wide brimmed hat. Some sort of exotic accent, too.
[Talking nonsense is certainly easier than speaking truth, but it only runs for so long. Prior sighs and presses his forehead to Dorian's shoulder.]
I'll tell him - I always would. At any rate, it's hardly a monogamous arrangement.
[It has been, on Prior's part, but not by any stated expectation. And Byerly - well, he's Byerly. Prior hasn't asked that he change.]
And that's hardly a surprise. I may have been more shocked by you telling me the sky is blue.
[He leans his head against the top of his, biting his lip. In truth, the longer he stews on the two of them, the more paranoid he is of intruding. Not overwhelmingly so - he's quite calm, really, but enough to clear his throat.]
Mm. [Prior bites his lip, fastening his hands into Dorians.] Mmhm.
[Barely a mumble but there's something softly pleased and - surprised - to it.]
Do you know, I was about to say I think so, to make it softer. For me, or you, or him I don't know. Isn't it terrible how afraid we all are of what we feel. Yes, I do.
[Why should his hand get all the action. Prior leans in to kiss Dorian's cheek in return.]
Love isn't the monolith people think. Not something set in stone after a few months. It has a kind of flux. It moves, changes its form. Expands, if you let it.
[All of which is to say-]
...I don't think Byerly can complain about me falling for you when he fell for you first. Still isn't back up off the ground.
I am insulted. I'm a prophet, Dorian, a soothsayer. We don't speak lightly. When we speak at all - which we only do to a chosen few of whom you should consider yourself honored to be counted among - we speak sooth. Which is to say, truth.
[Bullshit, but if he's cursed with this thing he should be able to play it in his favor now and again.]
I can reach into the vast infinities of the world and pluck a few glittering threads out of the weft. Case in point: you fell for him too.
[Dorian places a hand at his chest during his little scolding, feigning dismay in turn. But there's a moment where it becomes very real, his jaw clenching and eyes narrowing.]
You're very generous with who you ascribe love to, Prior. It was an arrangement—nothing more on his end, and far too much on mine. That is all. If you saw anything in your boundless knowledge, it was a mistake, and one I do not wish to talk about.
[Whether a mistake or not, nothing meaningless would strike that kind of a reaction in someone. Prior holds up a hand, acquiescing to a degree.]
Fine, we won't talk about it, though I will talk to him. But take this as notice: nothing I've said or done here tonight has been generous. [Any affectation slips - let him make that clear.] Undersell yourself as much as you like when it comes to other people, but you don't get to do that with me. It's a personal tragedy that people don't appreciate how selfish I can be.
[He isn't overjoyed to hear it, but he is satisfied enough to let himself relax to a degree. And after that last bit, he can't help but smirk.]
Dear Prior, [he shifts to face him, taking his hand in his in what seems to be a moment of undiluted sincerity.] I don't think you've left any doubt of your selfishness after our little work out.
[The squeak in response this time is quite genuine affront, if an amused variety.]
As I recall, you got off too. [He glances down, although since he's been playing demure there's nothing to see but the vague shape of him under crumpled sheets.] I'm still sticky.
You're insinuating I should be a good host and do something to remedy that, but I'm quite comfortable.
[He pouts, finally leaning to give some much needed attention to his lips. He speaks in between kisses.] You see, I — have this infuriatingly beautiful man in my bed — and he's absolutely demolishing my productivity.
Mm, call it research if it makes you feel better. Rather than dryly documenting the mating dances of, I don't know, something small and multiple-legged nobody gives a damn about you're -
[Mm, no, too difficult to run long on a theme with this kind of distraction, give him a moment to pay the kisses back in kind. The flattery hasn't fallen on deaf ears, either. He lets the sheets slip a little without reaching automatically for his shirt, curling both arms over Dorian's shoulders to keep them from such pursuits.]
You're engaged in practical experimentation. Fieldwork. I won't stop you if you want to make notes.
Oh, yes, let me get my pen and paper. I'll start keeping journals. The wild Walter has the audacity to claim that I should stroke his ego any more than I already have, and I, utter fool that I am, continue to fall for him. I fear for my future for my future. I especially fear that he already knows it.
[He laughs, more lightly and more easily than he thought he could manage, resting his forehead against Prior's in continued effort to stay right where he is.]
I do have a shower. I'll have to change the sheets.
[Which yes, does imply he intends to spend the night, asking without so many words.]
I'm not sure it was my ego I asked you to stroke, was it? And I'm not so wild. Quite domesticated, really, I'd probably follow you to work if you let me. It's not as if I'm some warrior with fire in my veins. I've never seen you do that, by the way.
[He's quiet, and then.]
Oh, look.
[A huff of breath over Dorian's shoulder and the room turns from warm dimness to pure dark.]
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You don't have to assume anything I want to tell me what you do. It's a risk, I suppose, but you've walked into battles with your hands on fire, you can't be averse to those.
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[He trails off before he can prattle on, mustering up a smile in some attempt to lighten the mood.]
I know that any time we've spent together wasn't just to get you into bed. Not that it isn't a wonderful side benefit that you are, and I wouldn't have you again if you ever called, but... I like you, Prior. I understand if you're sated, and things will go back to have they've been, but I'd prefer if they didn't.
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[For tonight. He couldn't go again after a night like that if he was fifteen and still capable of olympic grade masturbation, good grief. It's not what Dorian means, of course, and of course Prior knows that - it just makes him a little crazy how easily Dorian thinks he could be dismissed. Understandable, given the history they briefly toured through, but absurd all the same, to anyone that can have known him half a minute. All that showy armor, all that showy bravado, all to hide the vulnerable parts underneath.
Prior sighs, and affects a tone both grave and final.] But things can't go back to how they were.
[A beat, before the stone cracks, his mouth twitching.]
It would take steel I don't have to walk behind you in future and act like I'm not thinking I could knock myself out bouncing a quarter off your ass. I mean, my god.
[And the veneer's shattered now, Prior clutching both hands to his chest, playacting some kind of mix of awe and horror. And then Dorian's getting both arms full of him, if he's amenable. Finally willing to answer with something honest.]
It's certainly more than a casual interest, for me. More than sex. Though that's a sideline I'd be sad to have to give up.
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He manages more of a grin than a grim smile, the tension threatening to build in his shoulders leaves him. Enough to comfortable taking Prior into his arms.]
That isn't how you walk behind me already? I don't know if my pride can recover. Perhaps this was all a mistake.
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[See also: settling against Dorian as comfortably as a favorite spot on the couch.]
There is something else. [Mm, or more than that. He keeps the correction light-] Or, someone?
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This is the part where you tell me you've been having a roommate romance, and I scold you for not telling me.
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[It's unlikely Prior would be here if he didn't suspect Dorian already knew. He doesn't hide things well, apparently. A shame, he could have been some hot-shot Republican lawyer right now, if he did.]
It's true. Miles just showed up with that forehead hunch he gets when he's thinking, and clothes from the juniors department, and stole my heart.
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Oh, I was never a match for him. His frail little body strikes such a figure, Emperor and all...
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[Still not sure of Dorian's feelings (how he hates the word fine, let him count the ways) there's some hesitation before going on, as he tries to tread carefully around them.]
Though we do make quite the triple threat, don't we? All of us the disgraced scions of some ancient name. If I'd known that was my type I could have hooked up with that one cousin no one likes to talk about.
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Is it truly a surprise, or are you purposely scraping from the bottom of the barrel in terms of our pasts? [He takes a breath, looking ahead into the darkness of the room.] ... I consider Byerly my friend. And Maker knows there isn't anything I could keep from him if I wanted to.
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[Talking nonsense is certainly easier than speaking truth, but it only runs for so long. Prior sighs and presses his forehead to Dorian's shoulder.]
I'll tell him - I always would. At any rate, it's hardly a monogamous arrangement.
[It has been, on Prior's part, but not by any stated expectation. And Byerly - well, he's Byerly. Prior hasn't asked that he change.]
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[He leans his head against the top of his, biting his lip. In truth, the longer he stews on the two of them, the more paranoid he is of intruding. Not overwhelmingly so - he's quite calm, really, but enough to clear his throat.]
Do you love him?
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[Barely a mumble but there's something softly pleased and - surprised - to it.]
Do you know, I was about to say I think so, to make it softer. For me, or you, or him I don't know. Isn't it terrible how afraid we all are of what we feel. Yes, I do.
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And what a wonderful thing it is that you can say that. Truly.
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Love isn't the monolith people think. Not something set in stone after a few months. It has a kind of flux. It moves, changes its form. Expands, if you let it.
[All of which is to say-]
...I don't think Byerly can complain about me falling for you when he fell for you first. Still isn't back up off the ground.
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Don’t be absurd. That man never fell for me. You shouldn’t say such things so lightly, Prior- you needn’t indulge me.
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I am insulted. I'm a prophet, Dorian, a soothsayer. We don't speak lightly. When we speak at all - which we only do to a chosen few of whom you should consider yourself honored to be counted among - we speak sooth. Which is to say, truth.
[Bullshit, but if he's cursed with this thing he should be able to play it in his favor now and again.]
I can reach into the vast infinities of the world and pluck a few glittering threads out of the weft. Case in point: you fell for him too.
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You're very generous with who you ascribe love to, Prior. It was an arrangement—nothing more on his end, and far too much on mine. That is all. If you saw anything in your boundless knowledge, it was a mistake, and one I do not wish to talk about.
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Fine, we won't talk about it, though I will talk to him. But take this as notice: nothing I've said or done here tonight has been generous. [Any affectation slips - let him make that clear.] Undersell yourself as much as you like when it comes to other people, but you don't get to do that with me. It's a personal tragedy that people don't appreciate how selfish I can be.
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Dear Prior, [he shifts to face him, taking his hand in his in what seems to be a moment of undiluted sincerity.] I don't think you've left any doubt of your selfishness after our little work out.
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As I recall, you got off too. [He glances down, although since he's been playing demure there's nothing to see but the vague shape of him under crumpled sheets.] I'm still sticky.
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[He pouts, finally leaning to give some much needed attention to his lips. He speaks in between kisses.] You see, I — have this infuriatingly beautiful man in my bed — and he's absolutely demolishing my productivity.
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[Mm, no, too difficult to run long on a theme with this kind of distraction, give him a moment to pay the kisses back in kind. The flattery hasn't fallen on deaf ears, either. He lets the sheets slip a little without reaching automatically for his shirt, curling both arms over Dorian's shoulders to keep them from such pursuits.]
You're engaged in practical experimentation. Fieldwork. I won't stop you if you want to make notes.
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[He laughs, more lightly and more easily than he thought he could manage, resting his forehead against Prior's in continued effort to stay right where he is.]
I do have a shower. I'll have to change the sheets.
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[Which yes, does imply he intends to spend the night, asking without so many words.]
I'm not sure it was my ego I asked you to stroke, was it? And I'm not so wild. Quite domesticated, really, I'd probably follow you to work if you let me. It's not as if I'm some warrior with fire in my veins. I've never seen you do that, by the way.
[He's quiet, and then.]
Oh, look.
[A huff of breath over Dorian's shoulder and the room turns from warm dimness to pure dark.]
Your candle's gone out.
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