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"Oh fuck you, Orym," Dorian says in that playfully annoyed tone of his that Orym knows all too well.
He looks down at himself and his surroundings and, when he finds nothing out of the ordinary, he looks back up at Dorian with a raised eyebrow.
"...Why exactly?" He asks slowly, a slight grin on his face.
"Don't act like you don't know what you've done, mister of the Ashari." Dorian stands next to their bed with his arms crossed, still looking down at Orym like he wants to be mad at him for… something.
The halfling simply rolls his eyes, too tired for whatever games Dorian might be wanting to play and falls face first onto the bed. "Well, if I'm so bad, I guess you should do something about it."
He quickly realizes – and how did he not see it coming? – that turning his back on Dorian is exactly the wrong thing to do at that moment. It hasn’t even been a full minute before he feels Dorian crushing him with his entire body. The act itself nearly knocks the air out of his lungs and, in his dizziness, he's vaguely aware of strong arms wrapping from under him and turning both of them over. He finds himself staring at the ceiling and desperately trying to wiggle his way out of Dorian's grasp, which only makes the genasi press him down harder against his chest.
"You– big oaf!" He wheezes out but can't help the laughter that comes with it.
"Say you yield and–" Dorian pants, "–And that you're sorry and– I might let you go," he struggles to say as Orym keeps wiggling in his arms, never one to give up so easily.
He tries to bite Dorian's hand and misses, with the way he's still wiggling under Dorian's arms and he's trying to counter that, there's no wonder why he missed. His husband must've heard the sound of teeth biting down hard against each other though, for his next move is to flip them over again. Orym takes his chance and kicks his legs back as much as he can before getting pinned under Dorian. He manages to hit him at least once, if the grunt of pain above him is anything to go by.
Once they’re flipped over, Dorian lets out a puff of air and presses Orym down against the mattress, finally rendering him unable to move. There's not much else he can do against Dorian like this and he's very aware of it.
“Say you yield!” Dorian demands but Orym continues to struggle under him, not ready to admit defeat yet – or never, really.
“You were the one to start this out of nowhere!”
“Just say it and I’ll let you go!”
“Like heck I’d listen to you now–”
Dorian groans and presses harder. “Ugh, just say it!”
“Fine!” He exclaims, exasperated and a little breathless. “I yield!” His struggling stops and he turns his head as much as he can to look at Dorian, only a little too annoyed. “ Happy? ” he gasps bitterly, though there's no actual bite to his tone. If anything, he sounds closer to playfully stern than any other thing.
“Very.”
He can basically hear the way Dorian's smile curled all the way up to his eyes. It is in that moment he wants nothing more than to erase that shit-eatting grin from his husband's face as he revels in his defeat.
The genasi lets go of him slowly, probably expecting some sort of surprise counter attack and, as much as Orym would love some level of revenge, he is far too tired for something like that right now. Maybe tomorrow morning.
A few minutes pass and it's just him laying in the bed and Dorian kneeling next to him, expectant. When roughly five minutes pass without anything happening, he moves to straddle Orym’s legs, this time careful not to crush him under his weight, and gives his shoulders a loose massage.
"I didn't hurt you too much, did I?" His voice is soft now, concerned in a way that makes Orym's heart sing from just how lovely this man he married is.
"Nah, you're not that good." That earns him a light slap to his shoulder and he can't help but laugh, Dorian echoing the sound.
"Ha ha, you're so funny."
He keeps massaging Orym's back – now with a little more technique – and working the tension off his shoulders, the soft pressure from both his hands and his body a very welcome warmth.
Orym has always felt like, perhaps, Dorian studied in a secret academy for the top massage therapists of the world and that's the reason why he's so good at it. He always applies just the right amount of pressure with either the heel of his hand or his thumb. It's not like Orym's never received a massage before and, although it's not something he goes to often, he's come to realize that Dorian is the only one capable of rendering him boneless so efficiently.
His legs feel cool for a second as Dorian walks away in search of something from the night stand, giving Orym little time to even question him about it in his brand new yet familiar hazy state before he feels a freezing , creamy and just a little sticky type of liquid being poured on his back and Dorian working his fingers through the expanse of it. He hisses at the sensation at first, the sound soon turning into soft moans.
"You must've over done it today, I usually don't have to use the menthol-cream until the weekends."
"Mhm… guess so," he mumbles, his body too soft and his brain too foggy, quite literally in the process of melting under Dorian's skilled hands and sweet humming. "Have I ever told you how much I love your hands?"
"Why, yes. Last night you just wouldn't shut up about it–" Dorian's light teasing is quickly interrupted by Orym groaning loudly in annoyance.
"Remind me to never compliment you ever again," he says in a sleepy voice, not really meaning it. Meanwhile, one of Dorian's hands works on his neck while the other is occupied with his lower back.
"Sorry to break it to you darling, but the day you married me you agreed to compliment me at least once a day, I don't make the rules."
"What? I don't remember anyone saying anything about that."
"Well, duh. It was an implicit part of our binding, of course." He says matter-of-factly and before Orym can turn his head to get a better look at Dorian, the man in question is already leaning forward to plant a soft kiss on his temple, then another one on his cheek. Orym can't do anything but smile in defeat.
"Then that means you have to wake up at dawn with me for my morning work-outs as pay-back." At that, Dorian's hands immediately stop their course.
And, for the third time in the evening, having his back to Dorian comes at a price and that price is called surprise attacks from the genasi, once again in the form of arms wrapping from under him. Though, this time, Dorian gets them on their sides to spoon Orym, one leg draping possessively over his waist and one hand pushing their back and chest pressed against each other.
Orym thinks that Dorian's bickering will start up again soon, but nothing comes. He braces himself for a tickle attack or a pinch to his skin, but that doesn't happen either. After a while of their position proving to be entirely safe, he decides to let himself drown in the joy of it all. He is content in their shared proximity and silence, a type of calm and quiet that happens on rare occasions due to their busy schedules, so whenever they get a chance for it, he treasures every second dearly.
Still, he eventually breaks the silence because he knows that if he doesn't do it now, he'll probably fall asleep in no time.
"You know I won’t actually force you to wake up that early," he whispers and it's not a question, but a statement. Dorian hums and kisses the back of his head.
"I know. But if you asked I would consider it…" Another kiss. "Also, I love you so, so very much. Most days I don't even know how you put up with me."
"I never put up with you."
"No, I guess you don't…"
The efforts from the day finally starts catching up to Orym, combined with the energy their little wrestling match took and the way Dorian's massage left him soft and placid. His eyes feel heavy, his body begging for the rest it clearly needs but there is one more thing he must do before that.
"So…" He starts in a voice so soft he bets if he weren't this close to Dorian, it'd be hard to hear him. "Why did you fight me earlier?"
"Mhm?" He sounds startled, like he'd been on the edge of falling asleep but Orym caught him right before he could manage anything.
"Ah, sorry... Didn't mean to wake you."
"No, no... It's–" he yawns. "It's okay. What did you say?"
"I asked why you fought me earlier... Y'know, the whole 'fuck you' thing?"
"Oh. Cuz you looked… very hot," Dorian chuckles, drunk with sleep.
" What? " Orym sputters, disbelief written all over his face.
"Yeah yeah," he chuckles again. "You were coming to bed and I looked at you and you just… looked super hot and y'know that's kind of unfair?" He cuddles closer to Orym. "Considering we were about to go to sleep…"
"You– my gods, " Orym chuckles, soon turning into a full good-hearted laugh. "You are such a silly man!" He stage whispers through his laughter and Dorian can't help but laugh now as well.
"Sure, but I am your silly man!" Dorian says while laughing, somehow managing to press Orym even closer to his chest to kiss at his ear and neck.
They keep laughing for a while and it isn't until they calm down and their breaths are even again that he turns around in their embrace to face Dorian. He puts one hand on his cheek and uses his thumb to caress it while Dorian looks at him; heavy lidded eyes filled with a love and devotion Orym would've never thought himself so lucky to have again. But here he was, the luckiest halfling alive, married to the silliest, most wonderful man in all of Exandria.
He strains his neck to kiss Dorian good night and finds a deep joy in the way his husband instantly smiles at the gesture.
"I love you."
"And I love you."