[ Cracks in composure, retaliation-- both of these are ideal outcomes, and the noise of protest Dorian makes as he's pulled back sounds more pleased with himself than actual discomfort. He sets his teeth against his own abused bottom lip, grey eyes warm and hooded. His dark skin is flushed and hot, throat swallowing around the words pressed near his mouth.
He sets his heels up and behind Bull's waist, pushing, pulling him in, inasmuch as he is something of an immovable option, but the point is mainly to be felt. ]
Oh, yes. I do make a lovely visage, don't I?
[ Eyes flashing, he moves a hand, and Bull can feel the graze of his knuckles against his stomach, reaching down in between them, Dorian seeking out his own trapped cock with a level stare back up at him. ]
Folded up under you, trying to move as you do, saying your name...
no subject
He sets his heels up and behind Bull's waist, pushing, pulling him in, inasmuch as he is something of an immovable option, but the point is mainly to be felt. ]
Oh, yes. I do make a lovely visage, don't I?
[ Eyes flashing, he moves a hand, and Bull can feel the graze of his knuckles against his stomach, reaching down in between them, Dorian seeking out his own trapped cock with a level stare back up at him. ]
Folded up under you, trying to move as you do, saying your name...