[ The sound Dorian makes into the kiss is affirmation enough, pushing back with pressure and gentle bite, the grizzled friction at Bull's chin and the delicate tickle of his own mustache. And between them, his hand finding a firm grip, stroking, long and deliberate, with pauses only to sweep his thumb against that blunt, warm end.
But this state of half-dress can't go on.
Dorian evades the next kiss, finally shifting aside, the mattress creaking beneath the redistribution of weight, one leg still flung over Bull's thighs, nudging in indication as he lists back onto his elbows. ]
no subject
But this state of half-dress can't go on.
Dorian evades the next kiss, finally shifting aside, the mattress creaking beneath the redistribution of weight, one leg still flung over Bull's thighs, nudging in indication as he lists back onto his elbows. ]
But you can start by helping me with these.