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Dorian works another carefully aimed thrust down into the tight heat of the Genasi below him. Then Ashton's body stiffens up under him with a sharp gasp.
"Yeah, is that it?" He plunges in at the same angle, drawing back slow and carefully listening to Ashton's responses of low whimpers. "You feel so good around me, baby. So tight, fuck!"
The air hitches in Ashton's throat, and then they let out a low sob. Dorian's fingers tease along the slope of Ashton's back, rolling his hips down, harder. Ashton lets out a louder sob, the tears coming harder, now. Dorian groans. Usually it takes a lot more to push the barbarian this far to tears - several orgasms and a lot of teasing that drives them to the point of overstimulation and desperation.
"It feels that good? Fuck, love when you cry for me Ashton, fuck I'm close. Think you can come from this? Or do you want a hand?"
When Ashton doesn't respond, Dorian pushes in a little deeper. His hand moves from where it's tightly gripping the other Genasi's hip and curls down towards a - not hard cock. What?
"Ashton?" Dorian stills, trying to maintain the gentle strokes of his palm across a scarred back.
The barbarian chokes on a sob and buries their face further into the pillow. This isn't right. Dorian draws his cock out of the tight warmth and leans down over Ashton in concern. Ashton flinches. Something is very not right, Dorian realizes, as the barbarian tucks their head under their arm, the broad bicep shielding the slab of glass over their brain.
"Ashton? What's going on? Those don't sound like good tears, baby."
The barbarian tilts over onto their injured side, pressing the vulnerabilities into the mattress, knees coming up to a forehead as their body just shakes with sobs. Dorian wants nothing more than to draw Ashton up into his arms, whisper soothing words until the tears subside. But it seems like touching is a bad idea in this state. They've still got their hands covering their head as they curl tighter into a protective ball.
"Hey hey hey, talk to me. Did I hurt you?"
Then the words that spill from Ashton's lips hit him like a ton of bricks.
"Please let me go home. You can have the half upfront back, just please let me go home."
Ice floods Dorian's veins as realization sweeps over him. Ashton's memory must have slipped away. They'd warned him about this. Told him what to do if he suddenly forgot where he was and started to panic. Dorian just never thought it would happen like this. With his cock buried in the other Genasi, mid stroke. But Dorian can't seem to remember what to do. His mind is spinning the words around, a sickness creeping in at the thought of Ashton not knowing who he is, thinking he's just some...some...
Nausea creeps up inside him at the thought of what's happened. Ashton unwilling underneath him. Afraid. The disgusting sense of having taken advantage of the person he loves. Of having not noticed, of having kept moving, kept fucking him. Dorian pushes off the bed and spins, searching for somewhere to expel the sick that burns up his throat.
His chest slams into the windowsill just in time for the protein heavy dinner and several glasses of whisky from earlier in the evening to make a reappearance. Then he hears the door swing open. "Ashton, wait!"
Dorian couldn't be more relieved to hear the soothing voice of the party's druid out in the hall.
"Fearne?"
"I've got 'em, don't worry," she calls back. "Can you help?"
The bard shakes his head clear of the swirling thoughts. He doesn't even care that he's bare ass naked as he stumbles out into the hall and assess the situation.
Fearne's got an arm up under Ashton's armpit, half holding up their limp, unconscious figure as dainty fingers curl in the sheet around their waist. "They're heavy, come on!"
In an instant, Dorian's pressing a shoulder up under Ashton's other arm, hand gripping the tight muscles of their abdomen as he helps Fearne drag the barbarian back into the room. "We gotta get him dressed."
"Where are their clothes?" Fearne glances around the startlingly tidy room.
Dorian just crosses to the table and pulls down a carefully folded bundle of leather. "Here. Their boots are by the door. Can you go get FCG while I get them dressed?
Fearne nods and stands, carefully making her way back towards the door. She pauses beside the bard. "Are you okay? You don't look too good."
Dorian just nods. "I'm fine. We need to take care of Ashton right now." He knows his words aren't the least bit convincing to the druid, but she, thankfully, accepts them for now and leaves the room.
He closes his eyes and takes a slow, deep breath. "Okay," he says. Ashton is unconscious, but it still feels weird not to talk to them as he works. "Let's get you fixed up here, baby." Dorian unfolds the clothing with all the care and control he can muster. The leather pants are well worn and feel soft against his fingers as he slowly works them up muscular legs. It's easy, up to the knee, but Ashton's thighs are so thick and the pants fit them purposefully tight up to the hips and ass. Dorian ends up sitting behind the barbarian, back to their chest so he can pull the pants up bit by bit. Then he carefully strings the laces up the center, careful to tuck sensitive bits comfortably down one pant leg. Getting the sleeveless undershirt and leather jacket on the other Genasi proves a lot easier, and it's not much longer before Ashton is fully dressed, save for their shoes.
Dorian crosses back to the table and grabs for another carefully folded bundle of clothing, this one silk, and beings dressing himself. He's just gotten his pants up when Fearne returns.
"Smiley day!" Fresh Cut Grass rolls in after the faun, then halts. "Oh. That's not good."
The bard's eyes close in a prayer for divine intervention. "We uhm... ah-hem. Their memory did the - did the thing..."
A low whir of the automaton's wheel is the only sound for a moment. "We should get 'em to Milo, then."
Dorian just nods. "Yeah. Fearne, can you get their hammer? It's in their room against the window."
"Of course."
With a heavy sigh, Dorian finishes dressing. FCG has gotten Ashton's boots on. Now they only need to figure out the best way to actually get an unconscious barbarian across town to the Krook House.
-
"What the-oh!" Milo pulls the door open, and Dorian breathes a sigh of relief that the arcanist just lets them in. "His memory?"
Dorian nods, slightly squeezing Ashton's thigh where the barbarian is slung over his shoulder. "We were...um."
"Not gonna be a fun wake up, then," Milo surmises. "Come on, let's just get 'em to bed."
Every ounce of care and reverence Dorian is capable of goes into settling the barbarian into their bed. He takes a moment to remove the thick leather jacket and drape it over the back of a chair. He removes heavy boots and tucks them into the space at the end of the bed. Then he pulls the soft blankets up over Ashton's hips, tucking them tight around the barbarian's limp body. "Milo?"
"Hmm?"
"I don't know what version of Ashton is going to wake up, so you should probably be the first person they see."
"Yeah, good call." Milo sits at the edge of the bed, pulling a knee up and turning to face Ashton's resting form.
Dorian swallows his pride and sits down in a chair. He sees Fearne step in momentarily, place the hammer against the dresser beside the door, then turn and leave again. Fresh Cut Grass parks themself in the space cleared for them across the room. They don't drop into stasis, but more into a paused mode, waiting to be called on. The bard just rocks in his seat, hands cupped over his mouth as his mind spins and spins and spins and-
"That's not good for you, man."
"Hmm?" It takes Dorian a moment to shake out of his thoughts. "It's nothing."
The arcanist shoots him a very pointed look. "Tell me what happened."
Dorian sighs. "We were, well, you know..."
"No, I don't." Milo pauses. "I know Ashton very well. 'You know' could mean A LOT of things."
A hard swallow stills the bard's thoughts. "We were," he clears his throat. "Having sex. I had them from behind." A deep indigo climbs up Dorian's neck and cheeks. "I should have noticed, should have known when they grabbed onto the pillow, but you know..." He shakes his head. "It's not the first time I've pushed them to the point of tears in bed. I thought it was maybe just...overstimulating, or something. But they weren't...the right kind of responsive." Dorian swallows down another threat of sickness. "They've never flinched away from me like that, before. They've never looked at me like that, before. Like they were waiting for a burst of anger, or violence."
Milo nods in understanding. "Unfortunately, Ashton's had their share of...let's say bad bedfellows."
"Clients, you mean."
Another nod. "Desperate people do desperate things to survive. Anni and I, we did our best to keep them from having to go there. Anni always hated it when Ashton would return from those...outings. Hated the dead look in their eye and slump of shoulders."
Dorian's eyebrows knit together, and he rubs at his eyes. "It scared me. The way they looked at me. The way they...they begged me to let them go." He presses a fist to his mouth and swallows down more nausea. "The idea that I would ever...."
"They know." The arcanist's words are soft, as reassuring as the hand they work against Ashton's skin. "Ashton knows you would never do that to them. In the moment, maybe not. But they know."
"I just don't...." He gasps, eyes cast down to the floor. "I don't want him to think that of me. I didn't notice when it started...I kept...I just kept..."
A low groan emits from Ashton's form.
"Hey, buddy. You're home, I have you."
Blue eyes snap up to find Milo curled down over Ashton's body, hand working soothing circles into a scarred chest. Then one good green eye turns on Dorian and the wind blows from his sails.
"Milo, Dorian, could I.... could I have a hug?"
Dorian is out of the chair and climbing onto the bed before his mind even thinks about moving. He pulls Ashton up into his arms, tucks his face into the crook of a gold lined neck. "Always, baby. Don't scare me like that again, okay?" A hand passes through Dorian's hair and he moans, leaning into the familiar touch.
"I make no promises."
"But-"
Ashton just shushes him, fingers stroking through hair, and all Dorian can think is how backwards this is. He should be comforting the barbarian, not the other way around. But for now he just leans into the touch, grateful to have Ashton back.
"Hey, look at me, pretty boy."
The corners of Dorian's mouth quirk up at the nickname. He leans back, gazing into Ashton's good eye for a long moment, afraid to speak. Finally, he manages, "Are you okay?"
"I am now."
And all Dorian can manage is an exhale, pulling Ashton in close and stroking fingers along scarred skin.
"I'm sorry I scared you."
"No!" Dorian pulls back again, hand sliding to cup a strong jaw. "No, you shouldn't apologize for that. You did nothing wrong. If anything, I should be apologizing." He lets his eyes fall closed, eyelids tightening against the threat of tears. "I should have noticed sooner. I should have stopped."
"You did." Dorian feels callused fingers stroking across his cheek. "You stopped as soon as you knew something was wrong. You stopped and you got me to safety. You did everything right."
Dorian shakes his head, eyebrows pinched together with worry. "I could have done better. I could have-mmph!"
Lips press to his, halting the tumble of words. It's a hard, closed lip press, like Ashton is trying to transfer their feelings into Dorian by touch. The hand in his hair tightens, fingertips pressing into the base of his skull. Then Dorian's eyes fly open and he pushes Ashton back.
"Sorry, I've been sick, I don't-"
Then Ashton is kissing him again, and Dorian gives in to the insistent prod of a tongue. He's vaguely aware that he must taste awful, but Ashton doesn't seem to care as they take a lip between teeth and pull ever so slightly in the way that makes him weak. Dorian just moans into it, arms tightening around the other Genasi and bringing them in closer. This time, the kiss breaks with a light nip to Dorian's lip, and Ashton just leans their forehead to his.
"I know you'd never hurt me on purpose, so quit beating yourself up over it, 'kay?"
"O-okay." Dorian nods.
"Good. I don't like it when people talk bad about someone I love."
And Dorian's heart breaks and swells all at once.