[ Dorian makes a sound at the back of his throat as he's dragged back in those few inches, mirth more in the flash in his eyes than anywhere else. He isn't quite still by the time the wide span of Bull's palm lays on his belly, but movements aren't geared towards struggle by the time blunt nails drag temporary lines on his skin. More of an arch, chin tipping up.
He does like it.
And he likes that the attraction of gravity that causes his thoughts to wander Bull's way is turned into something physical, something he can't get away from in the form of big hands, and even the mattress sloping down where Bull has settled his weight.
This last part gets a chuckle, a little breathless. ] Is that what you like?
[ His hands travel downwards, this time participating, undoing the ties that lace up the front of his trousers. A little slower and a lot more prim than the treatment of his robes, which will be tossed at a seamstress along with a generous tip and zero explanation. ]
no subject
He does like it.
And he likes that the attraction of gravity that causes his thoughts to wander Bull's way is turned into something physical, something he can't get away from in the form of big hands, and even the mattress sloping down where Bull has settled his weight.
This last part gets a chuckle, a little breathless. ] Is that what you like?
[ His hands travel downwards, this time participating, undoing the ties that lace up the front of his trousers. A little slower and a lot more prim than the treatment of his robes, which will be tossed at a seamstress along with a generous tip and zero explanation. ]