washed off the world

dorian

He'll wrap you in his arms
Tell you that you've been a good boy

Dorian's gaze remains steady, almost detached, as Dahlia's hand explores the fabric of his shirt. The sensation is noted, and though he doesn't flinch, there's a flicker of something in his eyes—an acknowledgment of the closeness that has its own allure—though at no point do Dahlia's fingers move across him without his permission.

"Ah, sweet. A term that seems to be thrown around rather liberally," Dorian hums with a wry smile, his voice a low purr. "SoFt And SwEeT, as if they're pastries meant to be savored." His eyes flicker down to where her hand lingers on his chest, his mind calculating the strength needed to snap her fingers, her wrist, before returning to meet her gaze.

"My darling.." Dorian smirks, his tone dripping with muted condescension. "If the male forms you've encountered are too soft for your taste, it's time to mold the situation to your liking." He reaches down, intertwining his fingers with hers. Though his touch seems gentle, it's a subtle reminder that her newfound form could be wielded with surprising force. "Now that you have fingers, there's no reason not to use them, hmm?"

He'll rekindle all the dreams
It took you a lifetime to destroy

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!