"Don't—" Bull starts, too late. He feels struck. "I'm fine," he reiterates firmly, refusing to let his voice waver. "You're fine." In every sense of the word, hurr hurr hurr. "None of this 'til death do us part crap, kadan."
Not because he doesn't feel the same way. Dorian knows he feels the same way; Bull is more forthcoming on that than he is, usually. But anything that starts with "if I die" or whatever sounds big red NOPE alarms in Bull's brain, because if it doesn't he'll have to think about Dorian dying, and then — he doesn't know what he'd do then. Doesn't want to know. No point grieving preemptively.
Anyway. The suit is light, thin, stretchy; he uses his hand to demonstrate that maybe they don't need to take it off to get what they want. Next he's going to use his mouth. Nobody's around, he's already on his knees, and he wants the distraction — also likes the idea of all the affection Dorian tends to lavish on him during oral being multiplied by the powder's effect. Probably this should fade to back at least until Dorian starts vomiting.
no subject
Not because he doesn't feel the same way. Dorian knows he feels the same way; Bull is more forthcoming on that than he is, usually. But anything that starts with "if I die" or whatever sounds big red NOPE alarms in Bull's brain, because if it doesn't he'll have to think about Dorian dying, and then — he doesn't know what he'd do then. Doesn't want to know. No point grieving preemptively.
Anyway. The suit is light, thin, stretchy; he uses his hand to demonstrate that maybe they don't need to take it off to get what they want. Next he's going to use his mouth. Nobody's around, he's already on his knees, and he wants the distraction — also likes the idea of all the affection Dorian tends to lavish on him during oral being multiplied by the powder's effect. Probably this should fade to back at least until Dorian starts vomiting.