[ Good, it's good. He's good. It isn't what his instincts called it- this isn't anywhere he's ever been that ended with bruises and blood and cold words- this isn't like anyone he's ever been with before. The hands too large, too warm, the voice too deep, the precise force too careful. He melts into the hits- breathing as he's bid.
It aches but it does not cut into him. This- he's chosen this, choosing this, and he's dragged back from the ragged edge.
He floats a little more with every strike, mouth hanging open for half hitched breaths that smooth out into soft moans as he forgets not to keep quiet. As the instinct to keep still leaves him. Zevran lolls back against Bull, pliant, soft, and faintly adoring, head rolling to rest against his chest. The pressure is intense but the silk- cool and soothing against his reddened skin. ]
Thank you... [ He doesn't know if he's supposed to or if he's not but he's floating, and it's good, and Bull's hands are so warm. That frantic tension uncoils; leaving him boneless. ]
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Date: 2016-01-05 05:58 am (UTC)It aches but it does not cut into him. This- he's chosen this, choosing this, and he's dragged back from the ragged edge.
He floats a little more with every strike, mouth hanging open for half hitched breaths that smooth out into soft moans as he forgets not to keep quiet. As the instinct to keep still leaves him. Zevran lolls back against Bull, pliant, soft, and faintly adoring, head rolling to rest against his chest. The pressure is intense but the silk- cool and soothing against his reddened skin. ]
Thank you... [ He doesn't know if he's supposed to or if he's not but he's floating, and it's good, and Bull's hands are so warm. That frantic tension uncoils; leaving him boneless. ]