[ It's all talk. Even Dorian knows it's all talk. When Bull joins in on that talk, it's an added relief, and his eyes fall closed at that feeling of Bull's fingers already interrupted the preened curls of his hair. There's no forceful tug, and there doesn't really have to be to snag his attention -- the ropes dig where he leans against them, each knot a tension point of support. Architecture. He can feel it tight at his arms, across his chest, when he breathes in.
He kneels up as tugged, all coiled muscle and athletic line. Dorian tips up his chin as Bull sweeps that broad hand down his front, his own wrists twisting ever so slightly where they're caught. A small curl of warmth, low, releasing at the low rumble of these latest words. ]
I'm never where I don't wish to be, [ he agrees. ] But I know what I want. I'm curious as to what you want.
no subject
He kneels up as tugged, all coiled muscle and athletic line. Dorian tips up his chin as Bull sweeps that broad hand down his front, his own wrists twisting ever so slightly where they're caught. A small curl of warmth, low, releasing at the low rumble of these latest words. ]
I'm never where I don't wish to be, [ he agrees. ] But I know what I want. I'm curious as to what you want.