[Dodger hesitates a bit, the bottle of lube in his hand suddenly making this whole situation a lot more real. Something in his chest starts hurting, at the thought. When he tops, he rarely gives his bottoms any time to really think about it, but he's getting it here and he hates it.
He isn't about to demand the man does it for him, though; they've clearly established who's calling the shots, and as much as he'd love another bruise he fears the man leaving. So with some effort he wets his fingers and goes to work, trying to ignore how every hair on his body is now on edge.
It helps to glance back, at least, because fuck is this man gorgeous. If he could just stop the blood from rushing in his ears, this would be fucking fantastic... but then again, the fear does seem to add something to this, because he can't remember the last time he was hard enough to start aching like this.]
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He isn't about to demand the man does it for him, though; they've clearly established who's calling the shots, and as much as he'd love another bruise he fears the man leaving. So with some effort he wets his fingers and goes to work, trying to ignore how every hair on his body is now on edge.
It helps to glance back, at least, because fuck is this man gorgeous. If he could just stop the blood from rushing in his ears, this would be fucking fantastic... but then again, the fear does seem to add something to this, because he can't remember the last time he was hard enough to start aching like this.]