[ The shiver is felt, a brief tense and release under his hand, but it's good. Still good, and he ventures another, lower, along the long curve of his throat. The movements are slow, deliberate, matched by the upward slide of Bull's fingers against his stomach, up just as smooth as the stroke of a painter's brush.
Give him enough to focus on that isn't the shit he's had to try and come to terms with, lately. ]
Might get one set in here, one day. Could be fun.
[ Another soft nip. And then another. Warmth breath ghosts over damp skin, as the broad pad of his thumb brushes against Zevran's nipple. ]
no subject
Give him enough to focus on that isn't the shit he's had to try and come to terms with, lately. ]
Might get one set in here, one day. Could be fun.
[ Another soft nip. And then another. Warmth breath ghosts over damp skin, as the broad pad of his thumb brushes against Zevran's nipple. ]