If I survive the ordeals to come, [ he says, by way of casual reminder of the stakes, Iron Bull, the stakes.
He's heard something about desert fleas.
But he isn't thinking about desert fleas or even his imminent potential death, not in great detail, by the time his trousers are being pulled passed his hips, exposing hotter skin to cooler air, the rough press of Iron's belt, the sturdy, rough fabric of his own pants. A slight wriggle helps the process along until there's nothing much else to do for it until Bull opts to move.
Dorian can't bring himself to urge him away. Not when he's doing wonderful things with his mouth, teeth against skin, oversensitising to the point of near discomfort, unable to get away from it and unsure if he wants to.
With Bull's harness gone, it gives Dorian unimpeded access, hands dragging away from horns to skim palms over the back of Bull's thick neck -- who knew that such an area could have so many dips and valleys, with his own neckline being a fairly fine swoop -- and down his back, fingernails setting in hard. ]
no subject
He's heard something about desert fleas.
But he isn't thinking about desert fleas or even his imminent potential death, not in great detail, by the time his trousers are being pulled passed his hips, exposing hotter skin to cooler air, the rough press of Iron's belt, the sturdy, rough fabric of his own pants. A slight wriggle helps the process along until there's nothing much else to do for it until Bull opts to move.
Dorian can't bring himself to urge him away. Not when he's doing wonderful things with his mouth, teeth against skin, oversensitising to the point of near discomfort, unable to get away from it and unsure if he wants to.
With Bull's harness gone, it gives Dorian unimpeded access, hands dragging away from horns to skim palms over the back of Bull's thick neck -- who knew that such an area could have so many dips and valleys, with his own neckline being a fairly fine swoop -- and down his back, fingernails setting in hard. ]