[ Breathing is a good idea, having temporarily forgotten when Bull slid inside of him, a sensation that feels both completely easy and natural and slick and then, immediately, foreign, invasive, a ripple of muscle forcing a soft, shuddering sound out of Dorian, hands in sheets and clenching.
Breathing, though. He does so shallowly, and his eyes close as he waits out this moment of adaptation. He shifts, just a little, as if conflicted between attempting to lessen what borders on too much and already needing that movement, that relief, where Bull inside him presses unrelentingly against sensitive spots.
Dorian's hands have landed on the sheets and torn robe fabric on either side of them, gripping, loosening. ]
You feel--
[ Another internal shiver squeezes around Bull, slightly more deliberate than compulsive, even if every sound out of Dorian comes unbidden, a little strangled. ]
no subject
Breathing, though. He does so shallowly, and his eyes close as he waits out this moment of adaptation. He shifts, just a little, as if conflicted between attempting to lessen what borders on too much and already needing that movement, that relief, where Bull inside him presses unrelentingly against sensitive spots.
Dorian's hands have landed on the sheets and torn robe fabric on either side of them, gripping, loosening. ]
You feel--
[ Another internal shiver squeezes around Bull, slightly more deliberate than compulsive, even if every sound out of Dorian comes unbidden, a little strangled. ]
--very, deeply good.