[ His expression has sharp edges, but his mouth is soft -- made softer for the kissing, the friction from silk, worrying his lips. The touch to his mouth is a mirror of the one he'd given Zevran, which doesn't bother him as it should (or shouldn't, but by some standards--), his fingers then hooking firmly into the edges of the silky smallclothes and tugging them down and out of the way.
The sight of tattoo, once again, drags out the moment a little longer, but only by a fraction, just a moment to imagine needle point on such delicate skin. Then, Dorian's fingers curl around Zevran's length, a massaging squeeze as steadying preamble to his mouth closing around the damp tip.
This isn't his first time, not even with an elf, and there's no thinking anymore, no hitches in his heart or fears for the future -- they both know what they're about. Shallow, a dull, hot ring of pressure, but edging deeper. A sound of contentment settles in his throat, felt through the flat of his tongue. ]
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Date: 2016-02-19 11:40 am (UTC)The sight of tattoo, once again, drags out the moment a little longer, but only by a fraction, just a moment to imagine needle point on such delicate skin. Then, Dorian's fingers curl around Zevran's length, a massaging squeeze as steadying preamble to his mouth closing around the damp tip.
This isn't his first time, not even with an elf, and there's no thinking anymore, no hitches in his heart or fears for the future -- they both know what they're about. Shallow, a dull, hot ring of pressure, but edging deeper. A sound of contentment settles in his throat, felt through the flat of his tongue. ]