[ A familiar dance, an easy play to follow, all slow touches and lingering eyes, proprietary tugs and casual assumption of temporary authority. He moves as he's pulled and takes the hands on him as permission to let his own wander, tracing idle paths up the backs of Dorian's shoulders to rest at the nape of his neck. Hair shaved short has such a fascinating texture- he drags his fingers back and forth along the fine hair there in slow, irregular sweeps. ]
Mmhmm. [ Zevran tilts his face into Dorian's hand, parting his lips enough for his tongue to flick out and trace the pad of his thumb in a playful swipe. ] The relief that comes after is far more satisfying, I find.
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Mmhmm. [ Zevran tilts his face into Dorian's hand, parting his lips enough for his tongue to flick out and trace the pad of his thumb in a playful swipe. ] The relief that comes after is far more satisfying, I find.