Dorian lets out a quiet, rueful laugh, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. His lips part to offer an answer, but when the Bull shifts closer, he immediately goes still, a little wary. The Bull traces a path down the side of Dorian's head, knuckles brushing against his hair, the shell of his ear, the hinge of his jaw. The touches are light, incidental, but it's still the distorted echo of something approaching intimate. Dorian goes rigid, furtively glancing around to ensure no one is paying them any undue attention.
It's only a blink later that he realizes how patently ridiculous he's being, that the Bull surely means nothing amorous by this, and that the only attention anyone might be paying him would be to ensure he wasn't about to explode with demons.
"You really ought to be sitting," is what he manages for now, batting the Bull's hand away. His gaze is stern when he takes in the small details – the way the Bull is leaning on his bad leg, the tightness of the other man's jaw and at the corner of his eye.
no subject
Dorian lets out a quiet, rueful laugh, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. His lips part to offer an answer, but when the Bull shifts closer, he immediately goes still, a little wary. The Bull traces a path down the side of Dorian's head, knuckles brushing against his hair, the shell of his ear, the hinge of his jaw. The touches are light, incidental, but it's still the distorted echo of something approaching intimate. Dorian goes rigid, furtively glancing around to ensure no one is paying them any undue attention.
It's only a blink later that he realizes how patently ridiculous he's being, that the Bull surely means nothing amorous by this, and that the only attention anyone might be paying him would be to ensure he wasn't about to explode with demons.
"You really ought to be sitting," is what he manages for now, batting the Bull's hand away. His gaze is stern when he takes in the small details – the way the Bull is leaning on his bad leg, the tightness of the other man's jaw and at the corner of his eye.