games of luck

Dorian will offer no further interruptions during the lover's act, and with his back turned, the Maverick will be none the wiser to the look of calm judgement that lingers on Dorian's face. Indeed, this had turned into a rather tedious academic exercise; a tutorial that must be watched at the start of the game before the player is allowed to progress on their own.

The mechanics, Dorian has observed, are nuanced but perhaps not very difficult. Stamina and talent seem to vie for importance in near-equal measure, and though the scene unfolds with a passionate intensity, it's met with a detachment from Dorian—a calculated assessment of movements and reactions. This is no more than a momentary pause in his ongoing education, a moment to observe the intricacies of a dance that he might later mimic with practiced ease.

It's as if the warmth of the bath had been stolen by his body, leaving Dorian's emotions as lukewarm as the water around him. The earlier flush of heat and intensity, an aberration in his otherwise calculated composure, had dissipated like steam in the air.

The high indifference some call fate
But we had names more intimate

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

I used to hold your haunted neck; I know I'll miss you if I close my eyes

If nothing else, hopefully the tutorial should prove educational for their observer. And the blonde does cum with Dorian's name on her lips, for the record, just as requested, and Danta isn't far behind. In the first lingering few moments of the aftermath, the Maverick has to make himself resist the allure of the freshly fucked, wanting to sink down into the sheets and relax.

Instead, extracting himself from the bed and the woman with a generous roll of his shoulders, he sweeps his fair hair back from his face and turns to regard the other man. "Might I interest you in that whiskey now?" he asks softly, still a touch out of breath but recovering with every passing second. "Wine is a little heavy after that."

Dantalion

Dorian's gaze remains impassive as the aftermath unfolds, the air thick with the scent of recently consummated passion though he seems not to notice. He does though. Dorian notices everything.

As Danta suggests whiskey, Dorian, still reclining in the bath, lifts an eyebrow and shakes his head. "A robe." He requests instead, still quite content with his wine.

"It's a curious thing," Dorian muses while awaiting his requested garment. "How she could go again and again, hardly needing more than just a moment between, whereas you..." His eyes leisurely trace down the Maverick's body, a smile that seems almost apologetic appearing as they reach his withering erection before rising again. "...well." . He chuckles and then shrugs. "Don't have quite the same luxury."

The high indifference some call fate
But we had names more intimate

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

I used to hold your haunted neck; I know I'll miss you if I close my eyes

The blonde, of course, brings the robe straight to Dorian as requested - she's on the clock, after all - before leaving to fetch Danta's whiskey. (And let's be honest, she's probably glad to be out of there with all the tension still in the air). The Maverick watches her go with gusto, only for his attention to be drawn right back to the man reclining in his bath. And he can't help the huff of laughter that leaves his lips.

"We don't have quite the same luxury," he corrects, grabbing his pants and hiking them up around his hips without fastening them. "I suspect it's because if we did, we'd never get anything else done." That, at least, is something he suspects holds more truth than most men like to admit.

Dantalion

With a raised eyebrow and a sardonic smile playing on his lips, Dorian observes the Maverick's banter. "Ah, but that implies I share in the constraints of such mundanity," he muses, elegantly stepping out of the bath and into the awaiting robe with an air of refinement. "I find myself with a different set of... distractions, one might say." And, based on the relaxed state of his body, for all of the Mavericks' attractiveness and skill, it had not been for the purposes of sexual pleasure that he'd invited Danta and the girl up to his room.

Letting the robe hang about his body, Dorian reveals a physique that defies expectations. The subtle play of lean muscle beneath his skin is evident as he swirls the remaining wine in his glass. His movements exude a surprising strength and control that belies the conventional signs of aging, a testament to a vitality that transcends mere appearance. "It's fascinating, really, how some creatures are bound by the ... limitations of their own desires, tethered to the mundane rhythm of their needs. While others.." he adds, raising his glass in a mock salute, "..find themselves navigating a realm of infinite possibilities."

The high indifference some call fate
But we had names more intimate

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

I used to hold your haunted neck; I know I'll miss you if I close my eyes

"Your dislike for the constraints of such mundanity don't change the fact that you have a cock, and it would deflate just like any other after getting what it wants," Danta drawls, finding himself rather cheerful, actually, in knowing that even this mercurial man could not maintain an erection by sheer force of will. The blonde returns with the whiskey and a glass of crushed ice, and he accepts it before dismissing her.

Sipping his liquor and enjoying the display of physicality for everything it's meant to be, there's very little not to like about Dorian, he thinks. Even his arrogance becomes him, piquing Danta's curiosity in the same way that has him looking for loose threads to pull on clothing.

The other man muses in his open robe and Danta lounges on the bed, catlike and satisfied and offering an open, fanged grin for the backhanded comments sent his way. "Were I a man who was ashamed of what he was, I might take offence to that," he purrs, raising his glass in return and taking another drink. "I think, even given infinite possibilities, I'd still choose a good fuck and some flesh to sink my teeth into," he admits. "You ought to come and roll around in the dirt with me one day. You might like it."

Dantalion

Letting the robe hang about his body, Dorian swirls the remaining wine in his glass, watching Danta with a predator's precision. The Maverick's words draw a low chuckle from him, a sound that echoes with a blend of amusement and condescension. "A strange thing to know with such certainty. Perhaps I have been blessed by Frey that I might never experience such a lack of utility." He suggests smugly, before draining his glass once more.

"As for your invitation to roll around in the dirt." Dorian continues. "I find myself more inclined to stay clean. Dirt is for those who are still trying to find their footing."

Leaning against a table with casual elegance, Dorian tilts his head in contemplation, his eyes tracing the contours of the room. "The Dusklight.." he remarks, his tone contemplative. "Holds secrets, I'm sure. Whispers in the walls, tales spun in the shadows." He raises an eyebrow, fixing his gaze on Danta. "I wonder what whispers you've heard about Safrin lately, and if anyone without their head stuck up her ass actually cares much about her disappearance." Leaving the implications hanging, Dorian continues his exploration of the room, trailing his fingers along the table as if acquainting himself with the furniture. "Do you think her absence has any impact on the balance of power around here? Or is it merely a ripple in the pond?"

The high indifference some call fate
But we had names more intimate

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

I used to hold your haunted neck; I know I'll miss you if I close my eyes

Snorting into his glass, Danta shrugs his shoulders and grins openly to the other man. "After you just confessed not to be interested in mundane things like sex? Frey wouldn't waste a gift on someone who wouldn't use it," he says - and he's only heard tell of the deity, but he seems quite confident about that. "Mm, well if you ever feel like losing your footing on purpose and taking a tumble, I promise to catch you," he adds, rolling onto his stomach to stretch and admire Dorian as he takes in the room.

"Undoubtedly it does. All brothels do to some extent," he agrees, stifling a yawn behind his hand. Having little interest in Safrin or her machinations, Dorian will find any secrets Danta has about the starry-eyed goddess given freely - not that there's much to tell. "You know, for everyone who isn't in Safrin's pocket, I don't think her disappearance has made much of a difference in their lives," he admits. "Perhaps in other places it's made a difference, but the Grounds has always been Caido's black sheep. No one really wanted it until I showed up."

Dantalion

Tutting under his breath as Henry Cavill might, Dorian's smile holds a knowing quality as he gently shakes his head. "I never said sex was mundane. Just... the particular act I witnessed." His shrug carries a dual air of casual dismissal and subtle judgment. Dorian empties his wine glass, studying it with apparent consideration before fixing the Maverick with a predatory and intense stare.

"Is that a promise you truly believe you can keep?" The question hangs in the air, imbued with a sudden gravity that hints at dire consequences.

As for Safrin?

Sauntering toward the nearly empty bottle, Dorian pours the remnants into his glass with deliberate slowness, as if savoring every drop. "To put such faith in a fallen star..." he murmurs under his breath, shaking his head slightly before glancing over his shoulder. "...imagine falling from so great a height as the cosmos of space..." Dorian's voice takes on a distant quality as if he's orbiting some distant star that has perhaps ensnared the goddess in its celestial dance. "One can only wonder at what state might she might find herself in when she lands."

Dorian drains the last remnants of the wine in his glass, savoring the taste before setting it aside with deliberate care. Though the lingering ambiance of the moment suggests a continuation, a spark of ice flits across Dorian's gaze as he smiles in the Maverick's direction. "Well," he drawls, his tone carrying a sense of finality. Stretching, he lets the robe fall about him in a calculated display of his own unapologetic nudity. The predatory glint in his eyes suggests that, for all the allure of what might come next, Dorian has other plans.

"Now that I am clean, I think I shall turn in if you don't mind."

The high indifference some call fate
But we had names more intimate

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

I used to hold your haunted neck; I know I'll miss you if I close my eyes

Letting his jaw drop in a facsimile of shock and outrage, the smile playing across Danta's face betrays how seriously he actually takes the jab. Touche, Dorian. As for what he truly believes, while sex and alcohol has numbed the Ancient somewhat to the predatory danger he knows is lurking beneath the other man's charming exterior, he's not stupid, however he might act. "Well," he murmurs, averting his gaze towards the silk sheets, "one can only do their best, can't they?"

His eyes are drawn back up towards Dorian as he discards his robe, and it's with a forlorn sort of sigh that he realises he's being dismissed without the chance to ever test his best on him. "Of course," he murmurs, stretching and rolling off the bed and shrugging into his clothes without buttoning or fastening them.

"Sleep well. If you need anything, there is always someone available at the bar." With a lazy bow, Danta makes his exit, only marginally aware of the danger he leaves at his heels.

~FIN

Dantalion