[ Bull's sharp smile gets an answering one by the time Dorian's arm is bent back up over his head, knife-quick and edged, then blurred away under a deep exhale as Bull withdraws his hand. The muscles in that arm, coiled, promptly relax. It's a raw feeling, this, a sort of exposure of blood close to the surface and activated nerve endings, but distraction is one of those things he's always associated with sex.
One he likes. His breath catches a little at the sounds he can't see of leather sliding and dropping. His free hand intercepts where Bull is taking up the oil again. ]
no subject
One he likes. His breath catches a little at the sounds he can't see of leather sliding and dropping. His free hand intercepts where Bull is taking up the oil again. ]
Then that must certainly be for me.