[ He knows those points, the edge of pain that just shies away. There's a world of difference between pain and hurt, and what Dorian needs is warmer, a bone-deep ache and the occasional jolt, thrill, the reminder of danger without threat.
Another mark works its way above his collarbone. Then lower, along the line of his ribs. He remembers where the press of his fingers lay upon his hips but leaves them be for now, sinking lower instead, intent on laying a new mark close against the inside of his thigh instead. A huff of breath against damp skin marks Dorian's grip against his horns, the faint, itching tickle it sets under his skin that wants for something more.
It's teasing, is what it is. And taking it out on the stretch of unblemished skin he finds along the stretch of his thigh is good enough for him. ]
no subject
Another mark works its way above his collarbone. Then lower, along the line of his ribs. He remembers where the press of his fingers lay upon his hips but leaves them be for now, sinking lower instead, intent on laying a new mark close against the inside of his thigh instead. A huff of breath against damp skin marks Dorian's grip against his horns, the faint, itching tickle it sets under his skin that wants for something more.
It's teasing, is what it is. And taking it out on the stretch of unblemished skin he finds along the stretch of his thigh is good enough for him. ]