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From the way the suit jacket hugged along Front Dorian's waist and biceps, to the hat that sat atop his head, the visor casting a shadow down upon his imposing features. The black pants that molded to perfect thighs and an even more perfect bulge. You were absolutely enamored by your lover's uniform. It wasn't just a simple attraction, no, it was something that turned you on oddly enough. There was so much yearning you felt whenever speaking with this Dorian, more so than the others - even Trap and that was saying a lot.
This has been on your mind for God only knows how long. It was only getting worse, and worse, and fucking worse. There had to be something you could do, after all, your hand would only suffice for so long. Sure, you could find reprieve in toys or even just asking Dorian outright but then he'd take off that uniform and it wouldn't be that exciting.
There was a comfy spot right on the couch, though.
So, you conjured up a decent plan. Get Dorian to sit on the couch and simply grind against him and make sure he wouldn't go beyond that.
The morning was still fresh on your tired form as you ventured down the steps and towards the kitchen, seeking out the luxurious golden ticket to your fully awake state - coffee. You have it the way you usually like and take slow sips from the ceramic mug as steam stems from the surface of the liquid, careful to not burn your tongue. The smell is comforting in its warm and rich, earthy aroma.
You really need this before bothering with Dorian in any regard, maybe a good talk or two with Drysdale as well, but hearing about his sorrow-filled agony about Washford should probably wait another day. Maybe some morning fun wouldn't be so bad…
Before you know it, you finish the coffee within the hour and rinse the mug off before gently setting it in the sink. You've begun to treat the dishes more carefully now, given that Daisuke would probably have a heart attack otherwise.
With your renewed state, you go over to the front door. The glasses are perched on your face but not turned on quite yet. You run your hand along the wood of the door, the other hand caressing the knob. The one hand on the wood traces up to trace along the trim of where the window is. Your thumb teases along where the hole in the doorknob is, pressing slightly against it before circling it.
“You're so hot,” you softly whisper.
To anyone, this would be weird. You just couldn't help it, especially with how beautiful this door was. Although, you found Dorian attractive in all ways, from wood to personification. After your little ritual, you turned the sunglasses on to be met with a rather embarrassed Dorian.
“Good morning, love,” he spoke in a sheepish tone. “Hope you, uh, slept well.” He scratches the back of his neck while avoiding eye contact with you.
“Good morning,” you play the innocence card. “So, what has you all flustered and…” you look down to see the very noticeable bulge straining in his black suit pants. “And hard?”
Dorian finally looks at you. “Do you already not remember? You felt me up before talking to me. Any rightful door would shudder and groan at that.”
“Got your hinges all oily?”
“Quiet you,” Dorian murmurs.
What a more perfect opportunity to take.
“We could go to the couch and I could help you with your problem ,” you offer.
It was a simple tic for tat sort of deal. You get the thrill of the uniform and he gets a sweet release. Simple as that.
Dorian is reluctant but softly sighs. “Fine. Don't expect this every time you fiddle my hinges, though.”
“No promises.”
The two of you make it to the couch and you take initiative, shoving the tall man to sit on the couch with his legs spread wide open. God, he looks so beautiful, especially when those muscles flex under the black fabric, cock throbbing and straining under it too. Dorian rests his arms on the back of the couch, essentially presenting himself to you. As for you, you make quick work of your clothes and Dorian tilts his head.
“Do you want me to take off mine—?”
“No, leave them on.”
“What do you have planned, you minx?” He asks while you sit on his lap and straddle him.
You can feel that massive bulge pressing up against your own crotch as you push down and grind against him. Dorian hisses through his teeth and that blush returns back to his face as he takes up a more submissive role now. The visor of his hat does very little to even remotely cover the stained red, but that's a good thing. Dorian looks good like this.
As you gyrate your hips on his lap, grinding yourself against him, your hands wander. They slip under the suit jacket to feel the sculpted pectorals under the black shirt, hooking a few fingers at where his necklace of keys is and pulling Dorian into a kiss. You easily overtake his mouth and he melts, moaning against you. Your hands massage those firm yet squishy pecs through his shirt before abandoning them to feel the way his suit jacket wraps around his large biceps. The fabric is soft, but not silk-like, there's still a feel of roughness to it but it's not grating.
The vibration of Dorian moaning against your tongue has you reeling a bit. You move your hips faster and drag your tongue along the roof of his mouth, flicking behind his upper set of teeth, then pulling back and breaking away from the kiss. That view of Dorian, hat tilted and face flustered as he's completely drunk on pleasure and submission has you drowning in your own pleasure. He can't help but try and weakly move back up against you, wanting more, and more, and more . It's all he wants even if he'll make an absolute mess in his pants.
A whine of your name spills from his lip, hands loosely grabbing your hips. “Love, you're going to make me cum all over myself.”
“That's what I want.”
“It's going to be a mess, though.”
Dorian really thinks that'll make you stop? Really?
“And that's hot.”
He whimpers and weakly continues to move against your own hips as you lick up the pace. Your hands find his broad shoulders, squeezing them to feel the muscle but more important, that suit jacket. Dorian is beginning to feel hot, far too hot in his own clothes and wants to take them off so badly, but he can't, not when you're moving so well. on him.
“L-Love,” Dorian whimpers a little loudly. “I-I'm cumming. I'm cumming in my pants,” he stammers.
Those words are used as nothing but pure fuel for encouragement. You moan louder as your hips move faster. Dorian's cock throbs in his pants, spurting out cum through the layers of fabric, some getting on your thigh, the rest staining the black in ropes of white. He rides the orgasm out and then some overstimulation as you ultimately finish on him as well. The two of you are left panting messes, bodies trembling, and arousals satisfied. You sit back and adjust Dorian's hat to be more straight and proper.
“I didn't even get out of any of this. What's gotten into you, darling?” Dorian asks as he softly pants, chest not heaving as much.
“You look really hot in this,” you motion to his clothes. “Wanted to grind against you.”
A soft laugh leaves Dorian. “Just ask me upfront next time. No need to beat around the bush with me, sweetheart.”