The proposition of being back in Dorian's mouth is clearly well met, and he gives a tight nod with curled lips. Thomas can readily imagine what he could do with both hands in his hair.
"Knees," he purrs. Even if he shares the preference, rough sex has an implied position, unless Sweeney speaks up. Thomas is ready and aching to see them both slicked up so he can shove deep and ride hard. Fuck, that's all he can think about at the moment, and his prick is already twitching at the phantom sensation.
Sweeney swallows carefully and sets his drink aside. He pulls deep on his cigarette, holding the breath longer than he needs to. Arguably, this is the most important act for him to enjoy watching.
Well then! He doesn't mind that. Dorian shifts his position, getting on his hands and knees, positioning his ass right in Thomas's direction.
He lets out a murmur of pleasure as he feels himself start to get slicked up. And he lets out an outright groan of pleasure as Thomas slides his prick inside. Dorian obviously doesn't like this position as much: he's not doing as much blatant flirting and teasing as he was when the two of them could lock eyes. However, he's still receptive and still having a grand time.
As he feels Thomas thrust in and out of him, Dorian lets out a small groan of pleasure. "When you're ready, spend inside me," he purrs, grin on his face. "I want to walk back to my room with you dripping from my ass."
It's probably for the best there's less flirting; it hardly sets the proper tone. Unless Sweeney enjoys some brattiness. Thomas doesn't know, so he errs on the side of caution.
With the first thrusts, his fingers dig into Dorian's hips. Sweet fuck. He worries about being able to provide a show that's long enough to be presentable. The request is enough of a distraction, and he's grateful for it.
Thomas grabs him roughly by the hair and pulls his head back as he curls over him a bit. "You know I will," he growls huskily.
He manages a few sharp thrusts with his hair still in his hand, but he ends up abandoning it so he can catch his hips again. His hard thrusts start to find an eager pattern, and it's not long before it's building to a fevered pace. It's work but no burden; he'd happily do this whenever Dorian lets him.
Grunts and muffled moans escape his throat, and soon they're giving way to raspy, shallow breaths. Thomas tries to keep his focus, but eventually it's too much. With a full thrust and a sharp cry, he loses himself. Shortly thereafter, he rests over Dorian and plants a soft kiss on his shoulder while he's still twitching inside him. He turns his head enough to whisper into Dorian's ear. "That was glorious. You're exquisite."
Sweeney allows the men time to recover; there's no sweet brunette to shove himself into, nor is there the urge to find one. He takes the time to finish his cigarette.
Dorian certainly enjoys some brattiness. When Thomas pulls him by the hair, Dorian deliberately strains against it, making things so that Thomas has to essentially pull harder, yanking him and giving him a bit more pain. He's a jerk and he knows it.
He knows that he's not going to spend this round—after all, Dorian came not that long ago. He's up for constant fucking, but losing himself twice in two hours just isn't going to happen. But he can enjoy the sensation, enjoy the feeling of being used and, more importantly, enjoy being stared at and adored.
Dorian lets Thomas stay inside him as long as he wants—though he visibly preens at the compliment of being called exquisite. Damn fucking straight he's glorious. "It's a pity you don't have a plug with you," Dorian murmurs right back. "I'd have you shove it up me and I'd wear it the rest of the day under my trousers. You'd watch me serving drinks and flirting with all the other pretty boys, knowing full well that I'm stuffed full of your cum."
"Tease. Maybe next time," he purrs and nips Dorian's neck before sitting back on his heels with a wince. Thomas looks to Sweeney while he continues to work on deepening his breaths.
Sweeney gives a meaningful glance towards his clothes and produces a gold coin with a lift of his brow. Get the fuck outta here. Thomas pushes himself back off the bed on shaky legs and starts to gather his clothes. Once he gets his trousers on, he starts towards the door, trading the bottle of oil for the coin.
After, Sweeney gives Dorian a few. The man's had a long night, after all. He kills the last of his rum.
Dorian just enjoys the sensation of resting for a moment, that beautiful blissful post-coital afterglow—and, just as importantly, the grand feeling of not being on his knees. That sensation is absolutely ruined when Sweeney starts talking. Dorian can't help it: he lets out an annoyed little groan.
"Right, I've got to ask: why me? If this is just pure voyeurism, you could get your kicks with anybody here, but it seems like you're going through all this just to watch me come undone."
He's getting up off of the bed, though. And as he complains, Dorian is reaching for his trousers to put them back on (once again, he is leaving his shirt behind). He's definitely going to come back here in fifteen minutes, but he's going to get his complaining in before he does.
He leans forward, his elbows on his knees and his forearms perpendicular to the ground. Shutting his eyes, he takes a focused breath. A stool manifests as several gold coins clatter to the floor. Setting it down, he slides it towards the side of the table between him and Dorian.
"I was gonna do this when ya got back, but considerin' I don't gotta plug fer you an' ya don't seem ta mind it, yer welcome ta sit as ya are." His tongue slides along his teeth, and he shifts his gaze to the table as he produces a bottle and another tumbler without any more coins falling. He puts them down in invitation.
"Gin, right?" He starts to pour before Dorian answers.
Of course Dorian 'egomaniac' Gray thought that Sweeney had done this just so that he could watch Dorian be intensely attractive while also being sticky, gross, or fucked to high heaven.
And it's true that Dorian doesn't mind being covered in mess for a little bit. He especially doesn't mind now that there are drinks and possibly (hopefully?) a conversation.
"My poison's anything," he admits, "but gin's near the top—especially considering that I've yet to find a decent absinthe in this shithole of a city."
"I'll keep an out out next time I'm out." The offer is casual, bordering on indifferent. Sweeney travels regularly; absinthe's just not something that appeals to him. He pours rum for himself.
"Tonight's me lookin' fer a samplin' of yer work. F'gured I'd see a fair bit in one go, as to not waste yer time o'er multiple evenin's. Rumor is ya enjoy fuckin' an' that yer good at it." He gestures briefly to the bed as he continues. "All evidence points ta that bein' the truth." Sweeney's eyes drop to his glass for a moment.
"Folk keep tellin' me that I hate ya, or that I have it out fer ya." He shakes his head, clearly dismissing the idea. "But I don't." It's a simple truth.
"I'd like ta dispel that notion." There's a simple solution. "You like fuckin', I enjoy watchin' it, an' I have the coin ta make an easy night fer you." Everybody wins.
"If ya rather not have me ask fer ya again, I'll respect that. But if yer open, I'd like ta have another night sometime. Get ta watch ya." His shoulder raises in a half-shrug. "'nless I feel like joinin'." He lifts his glass in a faint toast.
Dorian can't help but raise an eyebrow at that. Maybe it's because he's been in prison for most of the past year, but it's honestly a bit of a surprise that people think Sweeney hates him. He suspects the man finds him annoying—but then again, so did everybody else on the Barge.
"Even if you didn't have coin, I'd let you watch me fuck someone," Dorian points out, with a little shrug. "I like being watched. To me, there's nothing better than commanding the attention of the entire room. Of course, then you've got the pesky matter of 'the other partner in the scenario' and they might not be as keen on the matter."
Dorian reaches over to take the glass and take a sip of the gin. "So yes, I'd also be up for another night sometime."
The offer of coinless voyeurism spreads a wolfish smile.
"Oh, I'll make sure they're keen," he assures him. There's not much point if the other party isn't enjoying it. Sweeney tips the bottom of the glass just enough to imply a clink and takes a swig. His gaze shifts over to Dorian, his eyes wandering down him without shyness.
"Any particular specialty or specialties I should know 'bout? Got things I enjoy, course. But I learned a long time ago that sometimes ya don't know ta want somethin'. Just needs ta be put on the table fer ya."
Dorian frowns a little bit, thinking things over, before he can't help but laugh. "Find someone who'll beat me up or tie me up and you'll have a grand evening."
For all that Dorian is comfortable being an obnoxious dom, taking the reins of things and being the boss, there's a part of him that's secretly a huge, bratty sub.
His grins goes wide for a few moments before he licks his lip and takes a swig.
"Think I can manage that." Sweeney's mind is already digging through ideas and putting things together. A grand evening indeed.
"Nothin' that might leave a scar," he notes, confirming he remembers Dorian's boundaries.
"Can't 'magine there's much ya haven't tried, or I might look fer somethin' up that alley." The man isn't that old, but he is highly motivated in the realm of debauchery.
"Honestly? There might actually be a few things I haven't tried," Dorian admits. He takes another drink before continuing.
"In my world, most of the supernatural is under the radar. I've fucked vampires before, but that's about it? There are people of all sorts here, so if you can find...I don't know, a werewolf or a wizard or something like that, then there we go, something I haven't tried."
"Hm." Sweeney considers it, then kills his glass and pours another one.
Having been a Leprechaun for a long time, running with gods and jinn and all sorts of otherworldlies, it's just not that peculiar to be with someone...unique. Of course, this place is full of folk with parts like tentacles and pinchers, so it doesn't seem like it's off the table.
"I'll see who I can come up with." His head tips to add a caveat. "No promises."
"Of course," Dorian says, with a little nod. "I wouldn't expect any promises to begin with." After all, they might not even find some sort of otherworldy person who's up for fucking a stranger and voyeurism in the first place.
"Still, if you can't find some other sort of supernatural slut out there, I'm sure you can find someone who'd want to boss me around for a night."
"Oh-ho, of that I have no doubt." He smirks at his glass and brings it to his lips.
"Chance ta see ya answer fer that smart mouth an' put its tongue ta good use?" Sweeney's eyes take a brief slip along the ceiling. A cheeky arch sets in his brow.
"Don't s'ppose ya take on weekly arrangements," Sweeney casually queries. "Or at least a weekend one."
He's confident he could fill the time. And it would be something new and exotic for him as well. Overnights aren't uncommon for him, depending on who he's with, but he hasn't ever taken a whore for longer.
His tongue runs along his teeth as he mulls. Sweeney takes down a cigarette and presses it between his lips while he digs for his lighter.
"How many rounds ya think ya could take in one night?" He flicks it opens, lights the cigarette, and snaps it shut. He favors the first drag, his eyes fixed on Dorian in consideration.
"Three," Dorian answers. "Four, if we stagger it right and depending on what people want."
After all, it's easier for him to go for giving people three blowjobs and getting fucked once instead of getting fucked three times and giving one blowjob.
Sweeney accepts the information, his mind painting blurry pictures as he tries to put all the potential pieces together.
"How many times can ya go?" He gestures vaguely towards Dorian's lap with his cigarette. Best to know where and when to make use of such things. Don't want to tap him empty too early.
Yeah, Dorian's getting what Sweeney's putting down.
"Twice," he answers. "Three times if I'm pushing it and I'm not drawing it out—and you needn't worry, I can draw it out for a long as I want. But again, we'll need to stagger it."
He nods, tucking away the information. Another long drag, and Sweeney taps his ash.
"Ya have a preference between women an' men?" There's no guarantee the answer will factor in too heavily on their activities, but it's still good to know.
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"Knees," he purrs. Even if he shares the preference, rough sex has an implied position, unless Sweeney speaks up. Thomas is ready and aching to see them both slicked up so he can shove deep and ride hard. Fuck, that's all he can think about at the moment, and his prick is already twitching at the phantom sensation.
Sweeney swallows carefully and sets his drink aside. He pulls deep on his cigarette, holding the breath longer than he needs to. Arguably, this is the most important act for him to enjoy watching.
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He lets out a murmur of pleasure as he feels himself start to get slicked up. And he lets out an outright groan of pleasure as Thomas slides his prick inside. Dorian obviously doesn't like this position as much: he's not doing as much blatant flirting and teasing as he was when the two of them could lock eyes. However, he's still receptive and still having a grand time.
As he feels Thomas thrust in and out of him, Dorian lets out a small groan of pleasure. "When you're ready, spend inside me," he purrs, grin on his face. "I want to walk back to my room with you dripping from my ass."
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With the first thrusts, his fingers dig into Dorian's hips. Sweet fuck. He worries about being able to provide a show that's long enough to be presentable. The request is enough of a distraction, and he's grateful for it.
Thomas grabs him roughly by the hair and pulls his head back as he curls over him a bit. "You know I will," he growls huskily.
He manages a few sharp thrusts with his hair still in his hand, but he ends up abandoning it so he can catch his hips again. His hard thrusts start to find an eager pattern, and it's not long before it's building to a fevered pace. It's work but no burden; he'd happily do this whenever Dorian lets him.
Grunts and muffled moans escape his throat, and soon they're giving way to raspy, shallow breaths. Thomas tries to keep his focus, but eventually it's too much. With a full thrust and a sharp cry, he loses himself. Shortly thereafter, he rests over Dorian and plants a soft kiss on his shoulder while he's still twitching inside him. He turns his head enough to whisper into Dorian's ear. "That was glorious. You're exquisite."
Sweeney allows the men time to recover; there's no sweet brunette to shove himself into, nor is there the urge to find one. He takes the time to finish his cigarette.
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He knows that he's not going to spend this round—after all, Dorian came not that long ago. He's up for constant fucking, but losing himself twice in two hours just isn't going to happen. But he can enjoy the sensation, enjoy the feeling of being used and, more importantly, enjoy being stared at and adored.
Dorian lets Thomas stay inside him as long as he wants—though he visibly preens at the compliment of being called exquisite. Damn fucking straight he's glorious. "It's a pity you don't have a plug with you," Dorian murmurs right back. "I'd have you shove it up me and I'd wear it the rest of the day under my trousers. You'd watch me serving drinks and flirting with all the other pretty boys, knowing full well that I'm stuffed full of your cum."
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Sweeney gives a meaningful glance towards his clothes and produces a gold coin with a lift of his brow. Get the fuck outta here. Thomas pushes himself back off the bed on shaky legs and starts to gather his clothes. Once he gets his trousers on, he starts towards the door, trading the bottle of oil for the coin.
After, Sweeney gives Dorian a few. The man's had a long night, after all. He kills the last of his rum.
"Ya've got fifteen minutes ta get back here."
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"Right, I've got to ask: why me? If this is just pure voyeurism, you could get your kicks with anybody here, but it seems like you're going through all this just to watch me come undone."
He's getting up off of the bed, though. And as he complains, Dorian is reaching for his trousers to put them back on (once again, he is leaving his shirt behind). He's definitely going to come back here in fifteen minutes, but he's going to get his complaining in before he does.
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He leans forward, his elbows on his knees and his forearms perpendicular to the ground. Shutting his eyes, he takes a focused breath. A stool manifests as several gold coins clatter to the floor. Setting it down, he slides it towards the side of the table between him and Dorian.
"I was gonna do this when ya got back, but considerin' I don't gotta plug fer you an' ya don't seem ta mind it, yer welcome ta sit as ya are." His tongue slides along his teeth, and he shifts his gaze to the table as he produces a bottle and another tumbler without any more coins falling. He puts them down in invitation.
"Gin, right?" He starts to pour before Dorian answers.
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And it's true that Dorian doesn't mind being covered in mess for a little bit. He especially doesn't mind now that there are drinks and possibly (hopefully?) a conversation.
"My poison's anything," he admits, "but gin's near the top—especially considering that I've yet to find a decent absinthe in this shithole of a city."
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"Tonight's me lookin' fer a samplin' of yer work. F'gured I'd see a fair bit in one go, as to not waste yer time o'er multiple evenin's. Rumor is ya enjoy fuckin' an' that yer good at it." He gestures briefly to the bed as he continues. "All evidence points ta that bein' the truth." Sweeney's eyes drop to his glass for a moment.
"Folk keep tellin' me that I hate ya, or that I have it out fer ya." He shakes his head, clearly dismissing the idea. "But I don't." It's a simple truth.
"I'd like ta dispel that notion." There's a simple solution. "You like fuckin', I enjoy watchin' it, an' I have the coin ta make an easy night fer you." Everybody wins.
"If ya rather not have me ask fer ya again, I'll respect that. But if yer open, I'd like ta have another night sometime. Get ta watch ya." His shoulder raises in a half-shrug. "'nless I feel like joinin'." He lifts his glass in a faint toast.
"Whad'ya think?"
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"Even if you didn't have coin, I'd let you watch me fuck someone," Dorian points out, with a little shrug. "I like being watched. To me, there's nothing better than commanding the attention of the entire room. Of course, then you've got the pesky matter of 'the other partner in the scenario' and they might not be as keen on the matter."
Dorian reaches over to take the glass and take a sip of the gin. "So yes, I'd also be up for another night sometime."
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"Oh, I'll make sure they're keen," he assures him. There's not much point if the other party isn't enjoying it. Sweeney tips the bottom of the glass just enough to imply a clink and takes a swig. His gaze shifts over to Dorian, his eyes wandering down him without shyness.
"Any particular specialty or specialties I should know 'bout? Got things I enjoy, course. But I learned a long time ago that sometimes ya don't know ta want somethin'. Just needs ta be put on the table fer ya."
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For all that Dorian is comfortable being an obnoxious dom, taking the reins of things and being the boss, there's a part of him that's secretly a huge, bratty sub.
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"Think I can manage that." Sweeney's mind is already digging through ideas and putting things together. A grand evening indeed.
"Nothin' that might leave a scar," he notes, confirming he remembers Dorian's boundaries.
"Can't 'magine there's much ya haven't tried, or I might look fer somethin' up that alley." The man isn't that old, but he is highly motivated in the realm of debauchery.
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"In my world, most of the supernatural is under the radar. I've fucked vampires before, but that's about it? There are people of all sorts here, so if you can find...I don't know, a werewolf or a wizard or something like that, then there we go, something I haven't tried."
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Having been a Leprechaun for a long time, running with gods and jinn and all sorts of otherworldlies, it's just not that peculiar to be with someone...unique. Of course, this place is full of folk with parts like tentacles and pinchers, so it doesn't seem like it's off the table.
"I'll see who I can come up with." His head tips to add a caveat. "No promises."
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"Still, if you can't find some other sort of supernatural slut out there, I'm sure you can find someone who'd want to boss me around for a night."
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"Chance ta see ya answer fer that smart mouth an' put its tongue ta good use?" Sweeney's eyes take a brief slip along the ceiling. A cheeky arch sets in his brow.
"Ya sure one night would sate 'em?"
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"I suspect they'll want to be back for more later."
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He's confident he could fill the time. And it would be something new and exotic for him as well. Overnights aren't uncommon for him, depending on who he's with, but he hasn't ever taken a whore for longer.
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And honestly, the more they talk about this, the more interested Dorian's becoming.
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"How many rounds ya think ya could take in one night?" He flicks it opens, lights the cigarette, and snaps it shut. He favors the first drag, his eyes fixed on Dorian in consideration.
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After all, it's easier for him to go for giving people three blowjobs and getting fucked once instead of getting fucked three times and giving one blowjob.
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"How many times can ya go?" He gestures vaguely towards Dorian's lap with his cigarette. Best to know where and when to make use of such things. Don't want to tap him empty too early.
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"Twice," he answers. "Three times if I'm pushing it and I'm not drawing it out—and you needn't worry, I can draw it out for a long as I want. But again, we'll need to stagger it."
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"Ya have a preference between women an' men?" There's no guarantee the answer will factor in too heavily on their activities, but it's still good to know.
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