Bull nuzzles Dorian's jaw and bites gently there. He can't stay that way when he moves his hips, though; it's difficult to bend quite this much when he's on top of Dorian. He doesn't want to gore Dorian's poor mattress by tipping his head the wrong way.
He reaches down to hold one of Dorian's thighs, using it to pull him closer as he pushes back in. He murmurs soft praise in heavy Qunlat as he pushes himself up. He doesn't want to smother Dorian, either. It's easy to build a rhythm from there, something deep and insistent, slow at first but building. Bull tries to keep in mind Dorian's request and he makes himself focus on Dorian's body more than his own, on every little tremble and arch, on the way he rocks his hips and goes tight beneath him. He's fairly certain he can keep focused enough to catch Dorian before he comes.
"As long as you need," Dorian laughs, only the smallest edge of hysteria to his voice. He's determined to last as long as Bull does, though he'll undoubtedly need help. Every rock of Bull's cock into his body lights up his nerves, filling the well of feeling and sensation inside him so much that it threatens to overflow with each full, careful thrust. He's so lucky to have a man like Bull, who can bring him so much pleasure without even trying--and yet he does try, always, and makes him feel that much better because of it.
As requested, he sighs and moans openly, low and throaty to panting gasps to louder cries, wrung from him with deep, slow, through thrusts. Bull moves away, so better to fuck him, and Dorian looks up at him with nothing short of adoration, the feeling warm and immediate, close to the surface, reflected in the softness of his half-lidded gray eyes.
Dorian's hands move to settle on Bull's chest, somewhere to touch and explore idly as Bull moves inside him, as Dorian shudders and reacts beneath him, wide-spread legs allowing him very little actual movement, but arching and shifting his hips to meet each movement as much as he can.
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He reaches down to hold one of Dorian's thighs, using it to pull him closer as he pushes back in. He murmurs soft praise in heavy Qunlat as he pushes himself up. He doesn't want to smother Dorian, either. It's easy to build a rhythm from there, something deep and insistent, slow at first but building. Bull tries to keep in mind Dorian's request and he makes himself focus on Dorian's body more than his own, on every little tremble and arch, on the way he rocks his hips and goes tight beneath him. He's fairly certain he can keep focused enough to catch Dorian before he comes.
"How long do you want to draw this out?"
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As requested, he sighs and moans openly, low and throaty to panting gasps to louder cries, wrung from him with deep, slow, through thrusts. Bull moves away, so better to fuck him, and Dorian looks up at him with nothing short of adoration, the feeling warm and immediate, close to the surface, reflected in the softness of his half-lidded gray eyes.
Dorian's hands move to settle on Bull's chest, somewhere to touch and explore idly as Bull moves inside him, as Dorian shudders and reacts beneath him, wide-spread legs allowing him very little actual movement, but arching and shifting his hips to meet each movement as much as he can.