[ He opens his eyes by the time he responds to gentle urging, tongue darting between his lips to pull in excess moisture, his eyes heavy hooded. It's not the same lazy bliss as having been pleasured so much as his own fog of arousal, but attention sharpens again by the time he finds eye contact, and the corner of his mouth twists into a small, self-satisfied smile.
With a distinct prowl, all ruffled curls and swollen mouth, he crawls back up the length of Zevran on the couch. The fabric of his trousers are tailored enough to show the distinct line of his own arousal pressing against inseam, and then more flush against Zevran as he presses bodily into him.
The kiss that comes next isn't sweet; dirty and bitey, the bitter taste of himself detectable on Dorian's tongue. ]
no subject
With a distinct prowl, all ruffled curls and swollen mouth, he crawls back up the length of Zevran on the couch. The fabric of his trousers are tailored enough to show the distinct line of his own arousal pressing against inseam, and then more flush against Zevran as he presses bodily into him.
The kiss that comes next isn't sweet; dirty and bitey, the bitter taste of himself detectable on Dorian's tongue. ]