"Oh, are you stressed, sweetheart?" Adasse all but purred, as he let his hands slid around to the front of the other man's body so he could touch his chest. He moved in to take a nip on Sorrel's ear. Down to his mouth again, so he could pull the other man tighter against him and shift their hips together, so they could both get a feel on that delicious friction.
"Then I will most definitely work on the ... relaxing part." He murmured, bringing Sorrel's mouth to his again, so they could start moving together from lips to hips.
"'Dasse..." He whines, not sure if it's a noise of complaint or simple pleasure. Nipples are one thing, but Sorrel's ears have always been sensitive. Were he in his right mind, there'd be a joke in that-- that he was born with them sticking out so far, just to make them a target.
He starts to say something else, another plea for friction, to be touched, but Adasse pulls him down again and swallows up any impatience in a way that leaves the desired result: Sorrel rocking against him, and the two of them sliding against one another, as wet as seals. Sorrel breaks for air only when he has too, and only for long enough to gasp
"H-how did you want me?" And this time, it's not a joke, and certainly not innocent. In particular, not in the way that Sorrel leaves no room for immediate answer, bending his head against Adasse's again, as if any time spent apart were too much, too long.
Sorrel is the only one who calls him 'Dasse, and it honestly drives him up the wall. In a good way, naturally. Just makes him want to hold Sorrel closer and swallow those moans with kisses and grip that firm body above him. Which he does, mostly because he wants Sorrel so bad at this point he can't stand it and he can feel every part of him like he's spark lightening in his veins, every single time Sorrel rocks against him.
"Turn around..." Is all he can manage before Sorrel takes his mouth again, and it's all tongues and teeth and more grinding and Maker's Breath he wants this man so badly.
"N'kay," Sorrel mumbles, when he remembers more than blind reaction. He turns without really pulling away, everything made slippery with water and soap, warm and humid even without the heat of the tub. He can't quite seem to get his breath, and all Sorrel can seem to think about is want. He wants Adasse, wants to touch him, to be touched, to be crushed back against his chest and made to feel.
"Please, please 'Dasse. Touch me. Please."
The Dalish do not submit. Except, maybe just every now and again.
Well, slippery and wet really was perfect in this situation. Especially since all Adasse wanted to do was touch Sorrel. So he put his mouth to the back of Sorrel's neck, breathing him in as his hand snaked around the other man's waist. Sliding his hand between Sorrel's legs, so he could grind up against Sorrel from behind him.
"Ancestors ... Sorrell..." He breathed out sharply and happily.
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"Then I will most definitely work on the ... relaxing part." He murmured, bringing Sorrel's mouth to his again, so they could start moving together from lips to hips.
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He starts to say something else, another plea for friction, to be touched, but Adasse pulls him down again and swallows up any impatience in a way that leaves the desired result: Sorrel rocking against him, and the two of them sliding against one another, as wet as seals. Sorrel breaks for air only when he has too, and only for long enough to gasp
"H-how did you want me?" And this time, it's not a joke, and certainly not innocent. In particular, not in the way that Sorrel leaves no room for immediate answer, bending his head against Adasse's again, as if any time spent apart were too much, too long.
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"Turn around..." Is all he can manage before Sorrel takes his mouth again, and it's all tongues and teeth and more grinding and Maker's Breath he wants this man so badly.
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"Please, please 'Dasse. Touch me. Please."
The Dalish do not submit. Except, maybe just every now and again.
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"Ancestors ... Sorrell..." He breathed out sharply and happily.