[ There's a restriction present. When Gorgug lowers his mouth down Fabian's neck, when he pushes his hips against Fabian's, there's a barrier in both. A barrier that he has to work against, that nags at him, infuriating him more below. It's his tusks, the tips themselves perhaps catching and nicking at Fabian for a second, but it's the front of them that cause more problem, at least for him.

And then there's a reason for him to hate his clothing choice, the thick jean material that separates himself and Fabian. Trying to reach for a friction that he isn't being rewarded by; but the response from Fabian himself, both audibly and physically--not just from any state of him beyond the thinner, looser pants that he wears--gives him that gratification he's seeking. And he's searching for it, on Fabian's skin and beyond his clothes; in his voice and in his reactions. Give it to me, he said, and Gorgug doesn't want to think of himself beyond that demand.

What does he want? He wants to be something and someone different from the guy he's been from the past few months, shameless and unthinking.

And so Gorgug doesn't want to listen. He does, because the point being made does register to him, even though when he removes his mouth from the expanse of skin just under Fabian's pointed ear (and, more annoyingly, stops himself from trying to get them to fuck each other despite the clothing between them), the look he gives Fabian is--something.

He's panting, his skin darker around his eyes from the heat rising all over his body; and the way he's quiet, staring at Fabian, is similar to whenever he does pause to think of an answer, calculations being made insde his head that show so easily on his features. But it's difficult to find the signs of embarrassment that might be typical in this scenario, that are some small factor of what's going on for Gorgug, and the emotion in Gorgug's eyes and that flushes his skin stops it from being unaffected, blank.

Frustration. Not anger, but the closest he's come to the emotion in a while when he's tempted to dismiss Fabian's concern for something reckless, something entirely unlike himself. He wants to give in to the buzz that Fabian's given him permission to experience and relish in. What if they're depraved instead? What if everyone heard Fabian right now? And is that what Gorgug wants? Really wants?

He focuses on Fabian's face for those few seconds, calculating against parameters he doesn't understand in himself. Then he looks down over Fabian when he steps back, just so that he can reach and grab for one of his hands, wherever it is he has to take it from. His heartbeat is pounding away inside him as loud as the party above, lyrics slurring in his ears. ]

Upstairs. There's rooms.

[ He doesn't want to explain further; this isn't a time for thinking or shame, for processing beyond what's going to happen here, and even Gorgug doesn't know its extent. His tugging Fabian isn't harsh, but there is a lead being taken in more than Gorgug bringing the other to go up the stairs with him, up to the party and the people collected within one of the music rooms. Doors left open, allowing people and sound to spill out; for the eyes that might catch them.

Gorgug knows. He's aware. But even while that subtle embarrassment more rings a higher pitch in his ears as he passes by the doors, Gorgug refuses to look--he refuses to think about it. They have to get to one of the karaoke booths: that's his only goal. Rooms meant for the privacy of a group of friends, with no much else than plush sofas around the walls and a table in its centre for drinks.

And that's the only place, and the only time that Gorgug will be able to pay attention to Fabian properly: to see him as he is now, and what he wants from him. Like every thought of him he's already had: under him, hard, and incapable of hiding it. Doing something to Fabian, giving it to him.

He'll figure it out once they get to one of those booths. ]

[ The lights turn on when they enter inside, a soft dim coloured lighting that works well enough for their mood. It leaves Gorgug dealing with the lock, which had been an addition simply because all the other doors have them, too. Never did he think that this is what they could be used for, or that they would be on the first night--that he and Fabian would be the ones doing this.

He doesn't think about it now. All he thinks about is Fabian, turning around to find him already set up on the sofa to greet him, and--he sees it, of course. The work of their grinding, the fabric being tugged by his cock pushing upward, and he doesn't stop himself from staring at it. Truthfully, it's what Gorgug wanted to see; as much as he wanted to take in the rest of Fabian, but doing it downstairs, it hadn't been the right opportunity. It didn't offer him a show like Fabian just instantly knows what to give him now. Like he read his mind. Like he's so easy to predict.

It's hard to drag his eyes away from Fabian's body, but he does look at his face, eventually, when he speaks. The cocky confidence that meets him in that grin, the way a single eye could lock onto him, and Gorgug, lips still parted, feels his breath heavy from his mouth.

Come here. Tell me how you want me. It's hypnotic, a spell that Fabian has him under, and it's not his usual confusion that slows Gorgug, his need to think, but the delay his mind is working on. Eyes wandering again down to Fabian's collarbone, only noticing what looks like a mark against his skin. Is it? Or is it the lighting playing tricks on him, because his mind was already thinking about back then? What started this certain kind of depravity inside him.

Gorgug follows Fabian's command. He moves to sit with one leg under him on the sofa, the other foot still on the ground. Eyes on Fabian, a hand on the back of the sofa; his body language like he's obeying, but also ready to move again, soon. He hasn't touched his jacket yet. It's a thought on his mind, but first comes Fabian. ]

I want you under me. I wanna fuck you. [ It's an admission that burns at his throat, as well as his cheeks. A confession that shames him, but one that he needs to give. He wants Fabian to see him. He wants him to know who exactly he's in this room with. Nevermind his heart trying to escape his chest. Nevermind the way his body reacts in both pleasure and embarrassment. ] I don't want to be gentle. I've wanted to fuck you since--

[ --since that time. But he doesn't finish, his own heartbeat and breath catching in his throat. There's no other reason for interrupting himself except that he doesn't personally care about dates or times or whens, and he swallows, his adam's apple bobbing.

He shuffles slightly towards Fabian and where he's displayed, nothing graceful about the motion. It's the best he can do under the conditions they're in. ]

I'll be gentle now, [ he says--close enough to a promise, and a plea. Like this is Fabian's choice. He's in control. Gorgug swallows again quickly. ] Can I touch you? I'll show you--how much I want you.

[ To that offer, his voice does dip in volume a little, shyness finally finding itself in his voice. But it's not difficult to see, if Fabian were to look, the strain to Gorgug's own pants--as if the rest of him wasn't already speaking for Gorgug's want of the other.

He's not putting on a show like him, but he's willing to display himself. He's giving Fabian choices, too, in exactly what Gorgug should do. ]

[ You can touch me. You can undress me. Fabian adds if you want to the latter. And while it's explicit permission, that there's a choice, Gorgug focuses more on what else it says: I'm letting you. I want you to.

Every piece of permission granted is what Gorgug fixates on, and he doesn't mind what isn't addressed now. Gorgug's dreamed about Fabian under him, rocking his back into the dirt ground, and against the specific outfit worn on the day this fantasy came to life. Fabian's fingers scraping at him, pulling him in. Needy, passionate; wanting out of Gorgug what can barely be said with words due to Gorgug's own needs getting in the way. Because he never wants Fabian to be able to think in his dream, to speak--he wants to fuck him with the same intensity the Fabian inspired in him that day.

But he doesn't need it. Not right now, and even in his lust, he knows it isn't possible. But Fabian's heard him, and he'd accepted him, and Gorgug doesn't resist when Fabian pulls him in to kisses him, his mouth wanting under his touch. It's teasing, when his tongue is missing Fabian's on it, and he has to suck on it to keep it tamed. Focus, he tells his body. And he half-kneels, his body only moving by Fabian's touch, his attention wavering just once from his face--down to his pants, when Fabian tells him he can undress him. He has plans, but he's patient, and plain docile up to Fabian's last words.

Even after, really. He wants Fabian's touch as much as he wants to give Fabian his, but from his perspective, it's Fabian that comes first: his needs. What he deserves. And what Gorgug wants even more is to grant that.

But first: it's getting too stuffy.

Gorgug leans back, just enough so he can peel off the hoodie jacket that he's wearing to strip himself down to the short-sleeved band shirt that he wears. He throws it in the direction of the door, then looks back at Fabian sheepishly, but more so because of every other emotion running through him than a sudden shyness at taking off a jacket. His gaze still holds Fabian in a certain kind of wonder, and he leans back in to take in the deep kiss that his tongue has been longing for, a better reminder of Fabian's mouth than a contrct signed and sealed.

He's slow, savouring; the opposite of what he had been at the bottom of the stairs, but willing to match Fabian if he should want a hungrier exchange. But still, Gorgug won't stay; any arms that come around him might keep him around a little longer, but Fabian's permissions continue to ring in his ears, and he has a job to do. Touch. Undress. All yours.

Gorgug dips his mouth down, similar to how he did before. He skips Fabian's neck, mostly for the angle he has to work with, the sofa arrangement not set for fucking your best friend under the most comfortable positioning. Gorgug has to come at him from his side, holding onto the back of the seating to keep his balance as he leans, bringing his lips and tongue over the skin made bare by the one strap already pushed down; tasting at his skin, his free hand slowly touching from the farthest shoulder to the tricep. A gentle caress, an observant with his fingertips; because when Gorgug said he wanted to touch him, he didn't mean in the most obvious of means.

His tusks drag unintentionally against flesh each time that Gorgug opens his mouth to bare skin, when he decides his wants to suck on the space under Fabian's collarbone. A light pinch for the second when he opens up, but he's careful, resting his own bottom lip as a cushion, and he doesn't bite; he said he would be gentle, and he meant it, his wandering hand coming down to Fabian's exposed stomach.

Fingers wiggle under the shirt, and Gorgug pushes his hand through to grab fully at the pec that he finds. It's not as soft as he's used to, and Gorgug doesn't expect it to be. But it's still different, worth being inquistive; the tight muscle of someone who works out, and--does Fabian like this? Does he like his chest played with, will he feel good if--? ]

Can I suck on it? Is it okay? [ The side of his cheek is close to being pressed under Fabian's chin as he speaks, Gorgug not turning to look at Fabian; he might bump him, and he's far too interested about where he is. He knows he won't be able to stay up here for long, not the more that he progresses. But as he asks his question, he massages at the muscle again, sucking on his own tongue; daydreaming, pushing up on the shirt regardless of the answer--because he was told to undress Fabian. He still needs to do that, to get there, even if all for now, he'll be exposing him.

But between the act and where his thoughts are, Gorgug's cock twitches where it's restricted, responding to every part.

Every part of him as warm as when he was wearing the jacket. ]

[ The problem with Gorgug not focusing on the moan and instead focusing on how sexy Fabian is that: they're one and the same to the half-orc.

Because it's the sound of Fabian liking it, what he's doing it, and it's the sound of his voice, blissful in Gorgug's ears and for the lower parts of his body. He wants to put his mouth on Fabian already, trying to ignore an issue that part of his brain is telling him might be present, shoving it aside. Especially when Fabian is so desperate sounding above him, and fortunately for him, Gorgug can't see what Fabian does, even if he might have some inclination he moved.

But Fabian gave him permission, and so he gives a ] Lean back, [ which is more of a request than anything demanding, just to help give Gorgug better access to Fabian's chest from the position he is. Because now that he's bringing his mouth down over the pec, and, specifically, the nipple, the issues with his angle and his features are showing themselves more. An awkward angle? Gorgug can deal with.

Except, his tusks are a problem.

Because when his mouth meets Fabian's skin, he's aware of the ends of his tusks meeting skin first, pressing in, even while he's trying to adjust his bottom lip to cover them, and--it's hard. Because even when he can ease off some pressure from Fabian, they dig into the soft inner skin of Gorgug's lip instead he flicks out a tongue, sucks up enough to tease it up.

But Gorgug wants to know--he wants to know what Fabian likes. If he likes this, so he ignores the tiny stabbing pain if he moves his head in a way his tusks disagree to; more annoying (irritating) than dangerous, but still it makes the skin sore, that he has to lift his head away. Regardless of a positive reaction--despite a positive reaction.

He looks up at Fabian, his lips wet from saliva, the colour from his cheeks undeniable from the hormones dancing through his body right now. But he sees the state that Fabian's in, and his half-lidded gaze breaks into a more worried blink. ]

D-did I catch you? Was it--?

[ My tusks? Did he get him with his tusks? ]

[ It's-- a little awkward. How desperate Fabian sounds, and Gorgug wants to continue, but his lower mouth hurts in trying to be careful about his tusks, and how can he say anything when Fabian is so insistent? Gorgug realises he has to come up with some other fix, but he doesn't want to approach it in a way that disappoints Fabian. One that gets him whining--he's supposed to be doing anything he wants to Fabian, right? He's meant to be taking the lead, pleasuring him.

Gorgug nods silently, and decides to take his time in addressing one of the other things he was meant to be doing: undressing Fabian. He lays a hand on the farther side of Fabian's hip from himself, and he's sitting his own weight still half on the sofa, half off it, moving that hand under a buttock while, continuing to look in Fabian's one eye: ]

I have to move you on my lap if I'm going to keep going. My tusks get in the way if I'm--not careful. [ Details that he's sure Fabian doesn't care about, but his free hand touched down Fabian's chest, leading all the way to the hard-on protruding from his loose pants, pawing at it from the outside, trying to touch it without being able to properly grab it--teasing Fabian. ] But I can do more if we do. And we'll get your top off.

[ That shirt that, honestly? Gorgug doesn't give a shit about since it's no longer covering his chest. But it's part of his job, so. Once he can get Fabian to manoeuvre his legs onto the sofa enough for Gorgug to tug him into his lap, he'll get the other to put up his arms while he lifts off the slinky material, finally discarding it--

And the quicker that Fabian complies, the sooner Gorgug can return to what Fabian's so eager for him to, and with a better means of doing so with the other directly facing him. ]

[ It's truly, truly not fair. That's what every part of Gorgug tells himself, and he has to be in agreement: this is torture. Because he feels Fabian, every time that he twitches against his body, the sound of his breath, and if he sighs and lets Gorgug's name escape his lips, it's as much of a tease to his senses as it is every time Fabian grinds against him.

He can't fuck him, and he wants to, and the knowledge is killing him.

Especially when Fabian tells him those magic words.

I need you. Right above his head, so close to his ears. His face already burns, and he pulls away his lips just to breathe in and be able to think about more than where he wants to stick his dick right now.

(But he wants to fuck Fabian so, so bad.)

He plants a kiss near the centre of Fabian's chest, a quick peck before he lifts his chin, white pupils looking up at Fabian. ]

I'll suck you off. Is that okay? I wanna put it in my mouth...

[ He's doing this somewhat on purpose. And yes, he hates himself for doing so, when he's already plenty aroused (and when he has the opportunity, he needs to undo his jeans), but he wants to hear more of Fabian under any circumstances. Waiting on Fabian's permission, Gorgug lays his tongue hot against the other's chest; close to where he planted the otherwise chaste kiss before. He drags it up towards the middle of Fabian's collarbone before lifting his head to face Fabian better this time--lips slightly parted, only close so he can suck on them, licking them wet.

Intentional, every part of it. The same as when Fabian rolled his hips against him, teasing him so delightfully well. Gorgug doesn't know if this is too much for a first time, but he wants Fabian to see him like this, anyway, to deride or encourage him--to know him for who he is.

And to tell him what he can do. ]

[ Fabian's sounds above him are so gratifying. Not just the words, even though they stir inside Gorgug a more degenerate side to him that wriggles itself more free, but that also might have something to do with the state that Gorgug's in already. He feels the fingers in his hair, keeping hold without a pressure that he's decided that he wants, but that's hard to ask for with his mouth full. And when Fabian's asking him to keep going, how can he stop?

Not immediately, anyway. And he knows he'll have to make it up to Fabian if he does. Letting go of his own dick, in a poor sorry state of its own, so he feels less unbalanced when he finally does slide Fabian out of his mouth. Even if he just rests it on a leg while the hand already holding onto Fabian's cock starts pumping along it, using the saliva from his work so far to make it slick, easier to slide up and down, up and down.

And Gorgug takes this time to look up, lips still close to the member he's jerking off right now. ]

Pull on my hair. [ He hasn't made many requests, not ones for his own gratification, but he's doing it now, voice needy, a plea that's as much spoken as it is reflected in his gaze up at Fabian. ] Please. You can do whatever you want to me... say whatever you want...

[ He might be babbling himself, too, searching for words to please Fabian, to make him respond well. To make him happy. Even being on the floor under him was a choice, but one as much for Fabian as it was for himself. Because he might've been the one digging his tusks into Fabian's skin, but it was Fabian's taunt of make me that really set Gorgug off that day. That defiance from under him, wishing to hear more, make Fabian say more.

All of the control is in Fabian's hands in this moment, where there isn't even the question of Gorgug taking away his attention on Fabian's dick present, with him already slowing his hand to lick along the veins thick on the underside.

And soon, returning his dick back inside his mouth. ]

[ Gorgug senses the hold requested from Fabian, and it's that reason that Gorgug look up at him. Questioning, but there's something a little more reserved about his expression when he meets Fabian's face this time around. There's no hiding the shade of his cheeks, and his lips still sit slightly parted from each other, but he's not putting on a show about it. Apparently, sucking off a guy is one thing, but trying to actually take him fully in your mouth (or trying)-- humbles you, in a sense. At least for Gorgug.

It's a moment of fluster, where Gorgug watches Fabian to see if he'll say anything about it, except he doesn't. He's asking him to swallow him, and--that does widen Gorgug's eyes, but he doesn't immediately speak up. The thought had been in the back of his mind, but he hadn't reached any conclusion about it. It's hard to be going down on a guy and not to consider it, or the thought of how hot it would be if he did do it. But does he want to? Does he have any desires against doing it?

None that are strong enough to make themselves known. Gorgug nods, because Fabian tells him to, and he's watching Fabian's tongue and letting the fact that Fabian's looking at him as he licks at his own lips wash over him. Fantasising, and Gorgug can imagine what exactly is on Fabian's mind. So how can he say no to that? Or do anything else but nod? ]

I will. [ But he does find his voice, even if his thoughts are delayed, hazy. There's the dick between his own legs desperate to be remembered, and Gorgug's thinking about how to get through this quickly enough so he can work on himself while trying to answer Fabian. ] Let me know when you're ready. I'll-- yeah.

[ He hopes that's good enough. Gorgug waits to see that it's okay for him to continue, and then returns his attention back down between Fabian's own legs, and a cock that he finds it more than easy enough to put him mouth back around. He wraps his lips around his head, leaning himself forward to position his face from above, to making the bob of his head coming down and around the cock smoother. It rubs against his tongue easily, sliding, and Gorgug appreciates the full sensation it puts into his mouth. But he doesn't go all the way down, not as far as he was going before.

Fabian wants to cum, he realises, and there's that need in himself to see it through; to make it happen because he wants it to, but so that he can get to his own climax. It's selfish. But hopefully Fabian can enjoy him being selfish too.

Because he wraps the hand that's always been hovering around the base of Fabian's cock around his length. While it makes it easier for Gorgug to suck him at a diligent pace, his hand is quicker than his mouth, and he starts pumping him, even moving his mouth away so he can make quicker work. Fabian is slick against his hand, palm already clammy, and he's hot and thick, in a state that Gorgug takes a few seconds to admire. Even to the chagrin of his own unattended cock.

But for the brief seconds that Gorgug thinks about dealing with it, he puts the thought aside: he listens to Fabian first. Especially when he hears the warning that he asked for, so he can make sure his tongue and mouth are ready over Fabian's cock. Sucking him again, but his hand ready to ride out the orgasm better than he's sure he can with his mouth with his neck already starting to ache, his jaw feeling sore from being open in the same position for so long.

But just a little longer, is what he tells himself--for a myriad of reasons. All of them pretty good. ]

[ He isn't exactly prepared for when Fabian comes. There's the warning signs, and then there's something hot in Gorgug's mouth that he only realises as something other than everything else going on by the way it comes in contact with the roof of his mouth, but then melding in with the wetness already present.

Until he removes his mouth, once he knows Fabian is coming down from his high. The taste becomes more evident than what he assumes but can't be sure is the saltiness of Fabian's cum, and--he doesn't swallow. Not immediately. Though it means that Gorgug has to breathe through his nostrils, and his forehead rests against Fabian's thigh as he hears Fabian's pants above him.

Gorgug's hand snakes down between his legs, and he starts to jerk himself off. Before Fabian shifts, coming back down to Etraya, to look down on Gorgug below him. He doesn't see him, because while Fabian doesn't close his eye, Gorgug closes the both of his as his pace quickens, his cheeks sucking in and finally building up the courage to swallow. Or something like courage.

And Fabian's speaking to him. And Fabian's telling him to let him help. And he should want him to, the idea of it pleasant to his cock, with parts of his hand calloused from axe-wielding and metal work, and what would it feels like to have Fabian grab and stroke him? His hand new, and it being Fabian pumping away from him-- ]

N-no. [ Still, he declines. Even hurriedly, and he can't explain it to even himself why he says it, though the feeling is there. Maybe if Fabian had been closer, he may have let it happen; or he might've still tried to decline him, all because of that same impulse in him to suck Fabian off in the first place. To offer to show him how much he wanted Fabian, the things he would have done--felt like it should have, after everything he did. Nearly did.

He tilts his head, losing some of Fabian's leg when he moves. And he struggles to do this next part; where he wants to be a coward and to keep his eyes shut with the next words already in his throat. Heart quickening, and it's somewhere in the lust and the last of his depravity that makes him submit and look up at Fabian. ]

Watch me, [ he asks--breathless, staring up at Fabian this way, only able to see him through one of his eyes. It pulses through his dick, and his free hand, trapped by his side and closer to Fabian's lower foot, reaches out to hold around his leg. For no real reason than to touch him, his eye fluttering closed again as his mind just wants to focus on finishing.

And unless Fabian stops him in any way, that's how Gorgug finally climaxes: visualing and playing back every sound and act of the past couple of minutes, his chest rising and falling quicker with his approaching orgasm. He finishes, splattering the bottom of the sofa's faux leather lining, teeth gritted and his moan bitten down as he plants his face against the actual cushioning on the seat between Fabian's legs.

His shoulders showing the progression of his breathing slowing, coming back to somewhere normal. ]