[ Why wouldn't you match all the way down, is what a faint twitch upwards of an eyebrow seems to say, but it's useless asking these rhetorics of a man who dresses like a preemptive strike. But then Bull's hand -- which, for being such large, scarred things, have such a way of sliding into tight spots just beyond Dorian's notice -- is on him, and the kiss is immediately a little less precise, faltering, twitching beneath fine silk.
There is the beginnings of a smile by the time kiss gets bitey. Likewise, his arousal has him well on his way to hard, thick and warm against Bull's palm. ]
Finally, some appreciation around here, [ his muttered against Bull's jaw, wry and quiet. His hands, settled on Bull's chest, scratch blunt nails just to liven the nerves. ] How would you like me?
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There is the beginnings of a smile by the time kiss gets bitey. Likewise, his arousal has him well on his way to hard, thick and warm against Bull's palm. ]
Finally, some appreciation around here, [ his muttered against Bull's jaw, wry and quiet. His hands, settled on Bull's chest, scratch blunt nails just to liven the nerves. ] How would you like me?