[ The cut twists out one last gasp, a faint twitch into the blade before he can stop himself. For a little more of that sharpness, that sweetness and he aches.
He wants more than a knife, more than a hand, he isn't all that certain what it is he wants aside from more.
Stop is the farthest thing from his mind.
Shivering and sweet he tips his head into Bull's hand, leaning into the touch, the praise, glowing under it. Good- he did well. Bull is pleased. As hard as the kiss is he yields; without guile, without a shred of his tricks, he merely takes what he is given and gives all that Bull asks of him; the lack of breath becomes dizzying and he clings. Presses for more, for affection, for approval. ]
no subject
He wants more than a knife, more than a hand, he isn't all that certain what it is he wants aside from more.
Stop is the farthest thing from his mind.
Shivering and sweet he tips his head into Bull's hand, leaning into the touch, the praise, glowing under it. Good- he did well. Bull is pleased. As hard as the kiss is he yields; without guile, without a shred of his tricks, he merely takes what he is given and gives all that Bull asks of him; the lack of breath becomes dizzying and he clings. Presses for more, for affection, for approval. ]