The grip on his hair draws a visceral noise from deep down on his chest. There's few men who could physically overpower Eskel, and it's very startling but gives him the thrill of something new, a rarity in so long and repetitive a life. Which might have how he got in this position last time, though at least Bull has kindly refrained from getting him drunk and ripped on fisstech. He might actually remember this encounter, at least.
"They are my only clothes." He admits. "Shirt's fixable to a point--" as evidenced by the many visible mends in it currently."--just don't rip the sleeves off or anything, deal?" He laughs.
Bull's grin grows and he gives the neckline of Eskel's shirt a sharp tug, tearing it and then pulling to one side so the shirt starts falling off Eskel's shoulder. "Nice," Bull says appreciatively, looking over the newly bared skin. His other hand tightens its grip and he pulls a little, wanting to see if Eskel will move his head back with the movement or fight him on it. "You can try to tear mine too, you know. If you start getting impatient."
The shirt yields along one of those rough mends, exposing a teasing view of defined muscle, decades of scarring and a light furring of black hair across his chest.
The witcher allows his head to be pulled with the movement of Bull's fingers. He might playfully resist him here and there in the course of this tryst but at the moment he's just sinking down into it, allowing Bull to pull him as he likes.
He's not a submissive man, as such. He likes rough play: pushing shoving, biting and blunt-nails catching on scarred skin. And he likes pleasing his partners, when they give him the chance. He finds it distracts from the face, not that he thinks Bull of all people cares about that. He's not at all troubled by the prospect of a hard, uncomplicated fuck. Just two hungry bodies sprawled on the ground and tangled up in each other.
His body is meant to be resistant to most intruders and impairments: poisons, diseases, etc. But there's something in the air now that settling over him in a familiar way that he finds at once intoxicating and slightly embarrassing as the sense-associations with succubus scent that have been quietly building below the surface all this time start to make themselves far more abundantly known. His breathing catches, his abnormally slow heart races, his cat-like pupils growl to wells of dark arousal. His trousers start to feel somewhat stifling.
"Sure, but remember you invited me to do it." He laughs, right before he moves to try and rip open the fabric across Bull's chest. He wants to see what he's working with, after all.
No, he's not just going to lie there like a passive toy, an idle source for Bull to take what he needs. It's an option, of course, but he trusts that Bull will tell him if he wants it like that.
Edited (Tried to open that up a little bit more with Esk's preferences?) 2021-06-10 01:49 (UTC)
What Bull's wearing doesn't rip so much as unwrap, the loose vest coming untucked from his pants when it's tugged and showing more of his stomach and chest. Bull just grins, looks Eskel over, tugs at Eskel's shirt to try and move him into a better angle, then shoves at him, letting go of his hair and trying to push him onto the ground.
Eskel's shirt gives up on its weary, coming apart all down the front along a mend he'd done the previous winter. In the moment, he doesn't mind, laughing as he catches himself on his elbow. His chest his broad and muscular and mapped out in a half century of violence on his skin. There's obviously animal injuries--claws and teeth-- as well as those of human blades. The worst seems to be a series of stab wounds just under the arc of his ribcage the same age and lurid red as his facial scar.
"You gonna get down here with me or what?" He rasps, arching his back as he unlaces his trousers. "Seems unfair that you're the only one who gets to touch."
Bull chuckles, shifting until he's leaning over Eskel braced on one forearm, the other sliding under Eskel's arched back to try and hold him in that position, press the two of them together. Bull's pants never actually dried, and they're thin enough that Eskel will be able to feel his cock that way, even though he won't really get hard until Eskel is.
"This close enough?" he asks, just in front of Eskel's face again and grinning with all his teeth, trying to put a little bit of something dangerous into the look.
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no subject
"They are my only clothes." He admits. "Shirt's fixable to a point--" as evidenced by the many visible mends in it currently."--just don't rip the sleeves off or anything, deal?" He laughs.
no subject
no subject
The witcher allows his head to be pulled with the movement of Bull's fingers. He might playfully resist him here and there in the course of this tryst but at the moment he's just sinking down into it, allowing Bull to pull him as he likes.
He's not a submissive man, as such. He likes rough play: pushing shoving, biting and blunt-nails catching on scarred skin. And he likes pleasing his partners, when they give him the chance. He finds it distracts from the face, not that he thinks Bull of all people cares about that. He's not at all troubled by the prospect of a hard, uncomplicated fuck. Just two hungry bodies sprawled on the ground and tangled up in each other.
His body is meant to be resistant to most intruders and impairments: poisons, diseases, etc. But there's something in the air now that settling over him in a familiar way that he finds at once intoxicating and slightly embarrassing as the sense-associations with succubus scent that have been quietly building below the surface all this time start to make themselves far more abundantly known. His breathing catches, his abnormally slow heart races, his cat-like pupils growl to wells of dark arousal. His trousers start to feel somewhat stifling.
"Sure, but remember you invited me to do it." He laughs, right before he moves to try and rip open the fabric across Bull's chest. He wants to see what he's working with, after all.
No, he's not just going to lie there like a passive toy, an idle source for Bull to take what he needs. It's an option, of course, but he trusts that Bull will tell him if he wants it like that.
no subject
no subject
"You gonna get down here with me or what?" He rasps, arching his back as he unlaces his trousers. "Seems unfair that you're the only one who gets to touch."
no subject
"This close enough?" he asks, just in front of Eskel's face again and grinning with all his teeth, trying to put a little bit of something dangerous into the look.