[ The powder and paint he'd used to cover his tattoos along his face, shoulders, and arms tapered out to nothing in the window between the ridge of his sternum and the bend of his knees. Sinuous lines that should continue and are part of a greater work spiral into being in arcing talons, fine tipped feathers, or abstract swirls that follow the dip and delve of Zevran's musculature. The toned expanse of his thigh is not spared the treatment- a wide band of black curling round to dip under the hem of his smalls.
Pale as the silk is- shades of similar ink are vaguely visible on his hardening cock under Dorian's hand. Part of the dance, the game- Zevran rolls his hips into the touch, silk doing just as much to enhance the sensation rather than diminish it. He has a moment to try to guess where Dorian might take this next; making a mess of him in the silk is likely, tearing them off to have him bent over the sofa also likely-
He is not often surprised in bed, and here he sits, surprised by Dorian's wandering south. Perhaps they do things different in the North- or the rarity of finding someone willing and wanting and discreet scrapes some of the taboo of doing this for an elf aside. Zevran props himself on his elbows to watch, hands resting light against the nape of Dorian's neck- there's barely any pressure. This is for the sake of contact, not to command. ]
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Date: 2016-02-19 10:07 am (UTC)Pale as the silk is- shades of similar ink are vaguely visible on his hardening cock under Dorian's hand. Part of the dance, the game- Zevran rolls his hips into the touch, silk doing just as much to enhance the sensation rather than diminish it. He has a moment to try to guess where Dorian might take this next; making a mess of him in the silk is likely, tearing them off to have him bent over the sofa also likely-
He is not often surprised in bed, and here he sits, surprised by Dorian's wandering south. Perhaps they do things different in the North- or the rarity of finding someone willing and wanting and discreet scrapes some of the taboo of doing this for an elf aside. Zevran props himself on his elbows to watch, hands resting light against the nape of Dorian's neck- there's barely any pressure. This is for the sake of contact, not to command. ]