The words on his boxers get a twitch of Francis' lips, but it's the size of the man's erection that draws a low whine in the back of his throat. Slender archer's fingers brushing to touch him through the fabric, and then he's being pulled down and he lets himself slide down to his knees. Blue eyes focused on him as he strips off the layers. And oh, there's part of him that wants to trace his tattoos with his tongue. He only really vaguely gets the satanic references, but he likes how the scars and ink layer against each other.

He's caught up in it, in the moment, because he's always liked people that were pushy, rough with him, and Dodger is so much exactly that Francis can't help himself. He leans a little into the fingers that curl in his hair, and when that cock pushes to his soft lips there's an almost eagerness to how the blonde moves. His tongue lapping against warm skin, wrapping lips around the girth of him with a low murmur of breath as he sucks all wet and eager.