[There's no revulsion or judgment in his touch, but nor is there any shame to speak of, in spite of the concealing clothing he favors. Even with his shirt hanging open and dangling off his shoulders, he sports plenty of scars of his own, both faded and fresh--how could he not, after centuries of battle? Even if he hadn't been restrained, it would have been pointless to try and hide them.
His smile is felt rather than seen as he dips his head. A pair of fingers slip inside Rosie, pressing and stroking; soon enough, he's breathing muffled noises of arousal against her as his mouth sets to work. He's certainly enthusiastic, if nothing else, all too glad to let his world narrow to slick heat around him and musk heavy on his tongue.]
no subject
[There's no revulsion or judgment in his touch, but nor is there any shame to speak of, in spite of the concealing clothing he favors. Even with his shirt hanging open and dangling off his shoulders, he sports plenty of scars of his own, both faded and fresh--how could he not, after centuries of battle? Even if he hadn't been restrained, it would have been pointless to try and hide them.
His smile is felt rather than seen as he dips his head. A pair of fingers slip inside Rosie, pressing and stroking; soon enough, he's breathing muffled noises of arousal against her as his mouth sets to work. He's certainly enthusiastic, if nothing else, all too glad to let his world narrow to slick heat around him and musk heavy on his tongue.]