It isn't unusual for some people to live on their own, away from barracks, but it wasn't usual, either. Bull - Hissrad - has earned some quiet after all his service to his people. Besides, he's still right in the middle of communal life, doing his job.
Returning to intimacy with Dorian is-- a relief in the face of everything. Something familiar, something that is theirs. He relishes their privacy, the walls between them and the rest of the world. For little moments at a time, he can forget everything he shouldn't remember. He gives more than he takes, but that has always been his nature in bed. He already feels quietly selfish for taking such comfort in Dorian's touch, the least he can do is make sure to indulge in every little thing his lover wants.
There is guilt in feeling that Dorian must be tethered to him whenever they are in public, but it is safer that way, at least for now. He knows other Ben-Hassrath agents are looking on, observing coolly. Dorian's willingness to play docile helps: no one seems to question that he has been pushed past a breaking point and needs time to recover if he is truly going to be of any use. No one doubts Hissrad's methods, not when they've proven so effective in the past. It's strange seeing Dorian in Ferelden styles, but it makes it easier to blend in: Dorian's personal style is meant to be noticed. Bull tries to find things that he knows Dorian will like: colors of fabric cuts, little things that, while not his style, might at least be an echo of it. More than anything, he wants to provide Dorian with some modicum of comfort while they try to sort themselves out.
His fingers brush the small of Dorian's back. It's an excuse to touch him as much as anything else, but it's also a quiet sign: he has this handled, everything is under control. He hates thinking of the word control in conjunction with Dorian's presence at his side, but it is an illusion they must keep up.
Hissrad. Liar.
Bull stands quietly as he listens to the tamassrans, understanding both lectures. He feels-- at home. As reluctant as he might be to admit it, there is something about all of this that feels like a balm to the loneliness he's felt for so long. All he need do is turn his head and he can see other people that look like him: he can hear his native language spoken. This is a life he could never imagine having again and he'd struggled to make peace with that long ago. But now that he is trapped here, he cannot help but find some comfort in it.
The child makes him smile. He was much the same at that age, and when he catches the little one side-eyeing them again, he offers a soft look and a nod toward the tamassran. He can feel Dorian lean into him and it's easy to slide his arm around the mage, holding him closer.
no subject
Returning to intimacy with Dorian is-- a relief in the face of everything. Something familiar, something that is theirs. He relishes their privacy, the walls between them and the rest of the world. For little moments at a time, he can forget everything he shouldn't remember. He gives more than he takes, but that has always been his nature in bed. He already feels quietly selfish for taking such comfort in Dorian's touch, the least he can do is make sure to indulge in every little thing his lover wants.
There is guilt in feeling that Dorian must be tethered to him whenever they are in public, but it is safer that way, at least for now. He knows other Ben-Hassrath agents are looking on, observing coolly. Dorian's willingness to play docile helps: no one seems to question that he has been pushed past a breaking point and needs time to recover if he is truly going to be of any use. No one doubts Hissrad's methods, not when they've proven so effective in the past. It's strange seeing Dorian in Ferelden styles, but it makes it easier to blend in: Dorian's personal style is meant to be noticed. Bull tries to find things that he knows Dorian will like: colors of fabric cuts, little things that, while not his style, might at least be an echo of it. More than anything, he wants to provide Dorian with some modicum of comfort while they try to sort themselves out.
His fingers brush the small of Dorian's back. It's an excuse to touch him as much as anything else, but it's also a quiet sign: he has this handled, everything is under control. He hates thinking of the word control in conjunction with Dorian's presence at his side, but it is an illusion they must keep up.
Hissrad. Liar.
Bull stands quietly as he listens to the tamassrans, understanding both lectures. He feels-- at home. As reluctant as he might be to admit it, there is something about all of this that feels like a balm to the loneliness he's felt for so long. All he need do is turn his head and he can see other people that look like him: he can hear his native language spoken. This is a life he could never imagine having again and he'd struggled to make peace with that long ago. But now that he is trapped here, he cannot help but find some comfort in it.
The child makes him smile. He was much the same at that age, and when he catches the little one side-eyeing them again, he offers a soft look and a nod toward the tamassran. He can feel Dorian lean into him and it's easy to slide his arm around the mage, holding him closer.
"Remind you of someone?" he teases quietly.