[ Dorian tips his head ever so into that hand, encouraging the blunt scrape of nails tingling over his scalp, whether ignorant to the mess its making of his hair or, more likely, not minding it at all. Context is everything. His tongue curls along tight, swollen flesh, and he spears Zevran with another look at that urging.
He lifts his head, that tight, wet heat replaced swiftly by the long strokes of his hand, no desire to break build and moment just to free his mouth, which is damp and swollen, devoid of sharp smirks, even though he finds something like them in his voice. ]
Whyever not? We have all night.
[ But it proves to be a benign threat, stung with sarcasm, for he takes Zevran back into his mouth and takes him deeply. His hands grip onto Zevran's hips, fingers setting firmly into the rounder muscle and flesh of his backside. ]
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Date: 2016-02-25 07:47 am (UTC)He lifts his head, that tight, wet heat replaced swiftly by the long strokes of his hand, no desire to break build and moment just to free his mouth, which is damp and swollen, devoid of sharp smirks, even though he finds something like them in his voice. ]
Whyever not? We have all night.
[ But it proves to be a benign threat, stung with sarcasm, for he takes Zevran back into his mouth and takes him deeply. His hands grip onto Zevran's hips, fingers setting firmly into the rounder muscle and flesh of his backside. ]