OOM -- for Jack Benjamin

[capture_eternity]

Dorian's room is of late, late Victorian opulence bordering on Art Nouveau, and encompass in its small space a little bit of everything that a gentleman of leisure might keep in his home.

The walls are papered in deep jewel-toned hues and covered with paintings -- portraits from all times of history, but no landscapes or still lives -- there is a small writing desk, a book-case filled with books bound in linen, silk, or leather, two chaise-longues arranged around a small table that, at this moment, only holds a potted orchid but has enough room for drinks, even a small repast, and a rococo bed in the corner, head and foot curved gently as if to encompass those that will rest, or play, upon it. There is a fire in the fireplace, a view of the greenhouse behind the rich, purple drapes on the window, and chandeliers to light the room.

Dorian holds the door open for Jack with his free hand, and bows. "Welcome to my home away from home."

Comments

[capture_eternity]

Dorian leans his head back and sighs, giving himself over to the pleasure of touch.

"You do have wonderful lips," he murmurs.

[holy_or_broken]

"Thanks," Jack murmurs, "you too, wonderful lovely lips..."

[capture_eternity]

"You must be missing both touch and companionship so much," Dorian murmurs, hands stroking Jack's shoulders, "what with the strictures that your wars and your position impose on you."

[holy_or_broken]

Jack lays his head against Dorian's neck for a moment.

"There's a kind of companionship on the battlefield," he says quietly. "I would die for my men. I nearly did," he adds with a ghost of a smile. "But it's not the same as a lover, that's true."

[capture_eternity]

"Could you trust them with seeing -- this?" Dorian says, slipping a hand underneath Jack's shirt-collar.

[holy_or_broken]

"Yes," Jack whispers. "They know. They don't care. All that matters to a soldier is how you act on the battlefield."

[capture_eternity]

"That must be good to know," Dorian murmurs, craning his neck to kiss Jack again, "that you can show your true colours to the men you stand beside, facing death."

[holy_or_broken]

"It's very good," Jack says, kissing Dorian. "It's the best thing I've got."

[capture_eternity]

"Do you enjoy fighting?" Dorian asks, curious.

[holy_or_broken]

Jack pulls back, his expression thoughtful. "No. But I'm good at it. I've got a far better mind for strategy than anyone suspected -- much to my father's chagrin," he adds with a wry twist to his lips. "I'm actually pretty good at covert ops, my openess at the bar notwithstanding.

"But I take no pleasure in killing, if that's what you're asking. I've known men who do, and all they do is is get the rest of us in trouble.

"I think my men like me because I don't lead them into danger for the sake of glory."

[capture_eternity]

"You care about what you do, even though it hems you in with duties and expectations," Dorian nods. "That deserves admiration."

He leans up again, to once more kiss Jack.

"As does the fact you don't risk other's lives lightly, and also that you do risk your own. Enough generals in my time lead battles from a safe hill, through binoculars and messengers."

[holy_or_broken]

"That's for old men," Jack scoffs. "I'm not going to hide behind my royalty."

Then his face falls, and he adds, "Though since I got wounded, I've been removed from the battlefield. I'm behind a desk for the time being."

[capture_eternity]

"Where were you wounded?" Dorian asks.

[holy_or_broken]

He takes Dorian's hand and runs it over the fading mark on his forehead. "Here. Not deeply, fortunately. Just enough to knock me out and let me get captured."

[capture_eternity]

Dorian strokes the little mark. "What kind of weapon was that?"

[holy_or_broken]

"I think it was a field dagger. I don't remember too clearly."

He kisses Dorian's jaw almost absently.

"It was dark," he murmurs against Dorian's cheek. "We were ambushed...we were supposed to have air support..." He sighs. "Messy and horrible. That's war for you."

[capture_eternity]

Dorian shudders, and tilts his head for a full-on-lips kiss.

"It's not for me," he says. "I'm glad you survived that ambush."

[holy_or_broken]

"Thank you," he says with a wry smile, and then kisses him as requested, full-on, hungrily, like he wants to lose himself in this beautiful boy.

[capture_eternity]

"Come here," Dorian says, his voice low, his hands going for Jack's belt, pulling him closer while grinding up his own hips.

[holy_or_broken]

Jack kisses him harder, his hands sliding up Dorian's chest to search for buttons.

[capture_eternity]

The open smoothly; the purple shirt is meant to be divested easily.

Dorian moans softly at the touch.

[holy_or_broken]

Jack strokes Dorian's chest and kisses his neck.

"More," he whispers in Dorian's ear.

[capture_eternity]

Dorian lifts his knees a little more, drawing Jack closer; at the same time, he takes his hands away and, one by one, pulls off his silver rings so they won't catch in Jack's clothes.

[holy_or_broken]

Jack stops kissing him to do the same, dropping his rings to the carpet with soft thunks.

He kisses Dorian again, winding their fingers together.

[capture_eternity]

They are soft and sinuous now, without the rings to clash and scrape.

Dorian opens himself to the kiss, and rocks his hips against Jack's.

"Too many clothes," he murmurs.