The Bull had absolutely no interest in moving, in stopping for even a moment. "You'll just have to believe me," he panted, "when I say you look amazing." He loved the mess Dorian was, loved the way he moved with desperation as he chased that feeling.

He adjusted himself, getting his right foot planted on the mattress so he had the leverage to rock his hips up to meet Dorian every time he dropped down. The sound of skin meeting skin was deliciously obscene, especially punctuated by Dorian's gasping breaths.

His hand slid from Dorian's hip to wrap around his cock; he didn't even bother to really stroke him, just let Dorian move between his cock and his hand.