#soren is aromantic and bisexual no i am not taking feedback

[jelzorz]

177.

@raayllum's fault as always, under a read more for (dream)sex.

It's a dream.

Soren knows because he doesn't really sleep around anymore. In his youth, he'd been stupid: cavalier and hot blooded and blessed with the looks and status to get anyone he wanted in his bed. He's had women, and he's had men—once, he'd even had both at the same time—and it was fun, in those days, because it was always just sex. He hadn't really wanted the romance, at least not with anyone that he knew. Not then.

Then there was Corvus, and it hasn't been the same since he left. Part of Soren wonders if this is why he'd been so determined to avoid getting attached. He'd never believed in love to begin with because his parents were such a mess, but for a couple of years there, he'd really thought...

It doesn't matter. Corvus is gone now, and the wound aches but it's healing, and the fact that he's having this dream at at all must mean the hole in his heart is slowly, slowly starting to close. It's all heat and friction, tongues and teeth and laboured breaths, and there's no guilt for once, no sting of a scab picked open once more. Soren actually lets himself enjoy it: the taste of sweat on pale skin, the way the hair is soft between is fingers, the lips parted and whimpering for more.

He hadn't realised how much he'd missed it. He'd thought he was done with this, with sex as just a base need, as just something he needed to get out of his system every once in a while with anyone attractive and just as horny. Maybe it's the warmth, or the proximity, or the way he pulls whoever it is in his dream to him like he might dive in and never come up for air. The legs lock around his waist and the hips rise off the bed as he grinds against them—her, Soren realises belatedly through the haze—his fingers firm against her waist while she moans for him, for more, for him to please,don't stop, don't stop, don't stop—

Whover it is comes, and it's so real, so hot, that he follows, even if he wakes in the midst of his pleasure to an empty bed and a stain on his sheets.

It was a good dream, he'll give it that. He blinks tiredly up at the ceiling as the orgasm recedes, his vision hazy with sleep and with pleasure, for once not grieving the empty space beside him, and instead thinking of blue eyes and caramel hair and the pinkness of lips panting his name.

When he realises who the face belongs to, he blinks. Then he frowns. Then he sits up.

"What the fuck?" he breathes.

He does not sleep the rest of the night.

x

"Are you all right?" Opeli asks him the next morning. The council meeting is over, and Soren realises far too late that everyone else is already on their way out, and it's just him left at the table. Him and—

He shakes his head, refusing to think of the heat in his belly and the sound of his name from her lips.

"Fine," he says evenly. "Just uh. Had a weird dream. Couldn't get back to sleep afterwards."

She raises an eyebrow at him. "Nothing too bad, I hope."

"No, uh." He looks away. "Not at all."