At his urging, Dorian does relax again, allowing Bull to do most of the work in holding his hips up. After Bull fusses with the oil for a moment, Dorian feels the familiar rasp of his stubble against his skin, and then the warm, slick sensation of his tongue curling into him. He's gasping softly even before an oiled finger pushes into him as well, though there's no urgency to it, nor to the almost lazy way that his cock slowly fills. He has no trouble at all accommodating a single finger alongside Bull's tongue, not when he'd fucked him so well earlier this afternoon.
He feels loose and tender and open, heavy with relaxation. His skin is smooth and bright with oil, and Bull's grip is strong on his hips, tethering him. Bull has him. "Please," he says quietly, just that word. His fingers curl into the blankets beneath him, forehead pressing into a pillow. He breathes in slow, shuddering breaths. There is something inside of him that needs so badly to be filled; Bull is the only one who's ever come close to it. Who's ever made him feel precisely like this: protected, treasured, desired.
Bull loves feeling the way that Dorian gives in to him, the way he relaxes beneath him, the way he trusts him in these moments. When he hears the sweet, whispered word, Bull lifts his head and carefully adds another finger. He knows Dorian can take it, it hasn't been that long since they were last together like this. A handful of hours. Bull carefully wipes his face dry with his free hand before he leans down to kiss Dorian's back as his fingers work slowly in and out, barely thrusting at all. His mouth trails up the mage's spine and, after a long and agonizing few moments, Bull adds a third finger with a quiet sigh.
He murmurs something sweet in soft Qunlat against Dorian's golden, gleaming skin. Bull leans over him, protective and cherishing as he works.
"You feel ready?" Even if he knows the answer, he still feels compelled to ask. He keeps after Dorian for a moment more, regardless of the answer, because he is nothing if not thorough. Eventually he picks up the oil again an slips his fingers free so that he can slick himself.
Bull's fingers, as they slide smoothly into him one by one, feel good, but like a prelude is the exciting, anticipatory taste one gets before the full book. Sometimes Bull's fingers are quite enough, stretching him enough to be pleasant, to be challenging, without making him feel overfull. But sometimes they aren't. Sometimes--often--Dorian craves the too-full feeling, and nothing gives it to him like the heavy press of Bull's cock inside him. He feels triumphant every time he takes him to the hilt, and the way Bull fucks him is his reward.
Tonight, Bull's fingers barely stretch him. It feels more like he's testing, reassuring himself that Dorian is still open enough. He sighs longingly as they press deep, slowly, almost agonizingly so. Bull's mouth brushes over his back, laying a path of warm kisses up his spine, and covering him with his bulk. Dorian hadn't thought it possible to melt further beneath him, but he does.
"Yes, entirely," Dorian responds almost dreamily. He makes a soft, vaguely disappointed noise as Bull's fingers leave him, but he can't be too upset, as he knows it's only because he's going to get what he really wants. "You should fuck me now."
Bull smiles at Dorian's encouragement; he doesn't need more prompting than that. He adjusts his position and coaxes Dorian's hips higher. He makes an almost apologetic sound, a smile hidden behind it, as he forces the mage to hold himself up rather than laying on the pillows. Bull could probably fuck him like that, but this is easier.
He covers the mage as he leans over him, looms, really, thanks to his height. It takes nothing to guide himself in. He still can't quite bring himself to just push deep in a single thrust, even if it feels so much easier now than it had earlier in the day. Bull murmurs praise in heavy, quiet Qunlat as he slowly sinks deep. He drops his head, letting his brow bump gently against the back of Dorian's neck. He kisses the mage there, lifting his head only when their bodies fully meet.
Bull runs his free hand up Dorian's thigh and along his side, touching him everywhere that he can as he moves his hips in lazy, indulgent thrusts. He doesn't know how long Dorian will let him get away with it, but he'll enjoy it while he can.
As it turns out, Dorian will let him get away with it for quite some time. He grumbles a bit at having to hold himself up, but once Bull's cock is inside him, he quite forgets to protest. His slow, lazy pace means equally slow, rolling waves of pleasure, a feeling that moves up Dorian's spine and suffuses through every limb before starting again, making his toes curl and his fingers clutch at the bedding beneath him every time Bull bottoms out. He moans soft and low, unbidden, the sound muffled by the pillow and his arm. His cock throbs steadily between his thighs, and the worst part of this position is that he can no longer grind it down against the sheets.
He feels almost too hot, warmed by the Bull's hands on him, rubbing the ache from his muscles, and the Bull's bulk above him, pressing over his back--just heavy enough to really feel his presence, his size. That alone is enough to make him weak-kneed. Before that first night, he'd never been with anyone like Bull. He'd acted as confidently as he could, intent on showing him that he could give as good as he got, that he wasn't frightened or intimidated or cowed, but truthfully, it had been an entirely novel experience. Bull has since shown him the absolute extent of pleasure his body can feel, as no one else has ever managed to. And not only that. Being held through the night after is somehow an even more novel experience.
"Like that, just like that," he gasps, eyes closed, lids fluttering. Bull's thick cock drags slowly across the most sensitive spot inside him, and his thighs shake.
Bull smiles above him. The way Dorian moves, the sounds he makes, the subtle tension every time Bull moves just right: all of it makes for a heady mix. There's even some appeal in the way he tries to keep quiet - there's part of Bull that wants to see what it would take to make him lose that control. Maybe not here, not in a camp surrounded by so many when there are already rumors flying.
There are things he's getting used to, too. Things that he's noticed about other lovers but never gotten the chance to explore or experience more than once. It isn't hard for him to learn someone's needs and wants, but it's different to be able to practice that again and again. The satisfaction he feels seeing the euphoric look on Dorian's face after Bull bites him, or the desperate way the mage will clutch at him, grabbing any part of him that he can reach, when they're face to face. Sometimes when they're not.
Just like that. The command sinks pleasantly through Bull's mind, even if Dorian didn't mean it as one. He adjusts their position just a bit, using his knees to push Dorian's further apart. It doesn't quite bring the mage down far enough to find relief against the blankets, but it does force Bull to stay slow. Can't get ahead of himself, no matter how good he feels. He's willing to wait until Dorian begs for something else. Maybe he won't. Maybe this is all he needs tonight.
Dorian makes a startled noise as Bull nudges his legs open further until they're spread indecently wide, bracketing Bull's. He sinks a little lower, rests more weight on his upper half than on his knees. It feels like Bull is fucking him into the bedroll with every slow, deep thrust. It feels like Bull's cock is the only thing keeping him grounded, preventing him from simply drifting off, lost in the heat and the loose, tingling feeling spreading through his body. Sweat beads at the back of his neck, and where Bull's damp skin rubs against his. He whimpers into the crook of his arm.
Bull grinds into him, so deep Dorian can feel his hips against the curve of his ass every time. The rhythmic slap of skin on skin is, obscenely, the loudest sound in the tent. Dorian tilts his head to the side, eyes sliding slowly open, half-lidded as he gazes up at Bull over his shoulder. His pupils are blown wide, so dark they nearly swallow the gray of his irises.
"Put your hands on my hips," is his only request, so soft it's nearly a whisper. Bull will have to lean back, and as much as Dorian will miss his weight against his back, the idea of Bull's fingers (blunt claws) digging into his hips and dragging him back onto his cock with every thrust is enough to make up for it.
Bull huffs a sound, almost a laugh, when Dorian makes his request. He pushes himself up, reluctantly pulling back. His hands drag along Dorian's sides until he can grip the mage's hips. He lets his blunt nails dig against Dorian's skin, lets him feel it, before he starts moving his hips again. Bull bites back a groan. It adjusts the angle, lets him get a bit deeper as he pulls Dorian back to meet him. His hands completely cover Dorian's hips and that alone sends a pleasant rush out to his fingertips.
The only downside is that he can't kiss or bite Dorian anymore, so Bull tries to make up for the loss with the snap of his hips, the grind every time he drags Dorian back. One hand lets go so he can run it up Dorian's back just to feel the muscles move beneath golden skin.
"Dorian." He Bull sighs his name like a prayer, the only sound he's willing to let breathe.
Beneath him Dorian shudders, fingers curling into the blankets as Bull draws back, shifting the angle of his thrusts just enough to put him in more direct contact with his prostate, the fat head grinding sweetly against it as Bull pulls him roughly, perfectly, back against his hips every time his cock sinks into him. Between his legs, Dorian's cock is wet with precome, dripping more steadily with the bright bursts of sensation Bull is wringing from his already sensitive body.
Bull's hands are huge, covering his hips entirely and clutching at the softer flesh there with a bruising strength, his nails a sharper pressure. It's a perfect counterpoint to the almost mind-numbing pleasure, the perfect way Bull's cock fills him, the way it glides smoothly into his stretched hole, driving him wonderfully made with the slow, steady build of energy in his body. His back cools quickly without Bull covering him, breaking into goosebumps. He shivers at the touch of cool air, a relief from the overwhelming heat.
When he moves his fingers from the blankets, he leaves ice crystals behind in the shape of his handprint. Face buried against the crook of his other arm, he doesn't notice. He does gasp harshly when he reaches between his legs and begins pumping his own cock, but by then his touch is hot again--unnaturally so.
"Oh, Bull," he groans, responding viscerally to the sound of his name in the Bull's wonderful low voice, "yes, harder, yes--" He manages to keep his eyes open, manages to watch Bull over his shoulder. He looks magnificent towering over him like this, all wide shoulders and flexing muscle and Andraste's pyre, his horns. "Bull," he gasps, "I'll--you're going to make me--" It's difficult even to finish the thought, let alone voice it.
As Dorian starts to stroke himself, Bull tips his head down, watching the place where their bodies meet, where Dorian stretches to accommodation him. This is the most regular sex Bull has ever had - the longest he's ever had a single partner - and there's a thrill and a comfort in that, knowing that Dorian can take him, that he wants to.
Bull will never get tired of this. The way Dorian practically trembles to pieces, the soft, urgent sound of his voice as he reaches his peak. He mutters softly as Dorian gets tighter, adjusting his place just to make sure that he doesn't hurt Dorian as he comes. To that end, Bull pushes deep at the tell-tale gasps, the soft, breathless warning. He stays deep, grinding his hips as he slowly sinks down over Dorian again, completely covering him. One hand presses to the bedroll while the other arm wraps around the mages chest.
"That's it," he murmurs, heavy and deep. "Let me feel it."
It's only a moment after Dorian voices his warning that he feels his pleasure crest, bright and white-hot, obscuring all else. His eyes slam shut and his thighs quiver as he comes, spilling over the blanket beneath them, a rhythmic clench and release of muscles as he works himself through it, stroking his cock as he tightens around Bull's. He muffles his sharp, shuddering moan, teeth sinking into his forearm to do it.
From the sweltering heat of their bed, a sheet of magical ice races across the tent floor, nearly all the way to their packs and the trunk in the corner. The excess magic races through Dorian as surely as his orgasm had, overflowing in much the same way, unbidden and uncontrolled. He can't sustain the spell, so the ice begins to melt almost immediately. Dorian's head is still spinning, aftershocks of his climax and magic both making his body thrum.
Bull is grounding, centering as he leans over him, a thick, impossibly strong arm holding him secure. A final shiver races down Dorian's spine with the sound of Bull's voice in his ear, the thrilling depth and gravelly quality of it.
Sometime in the midst of Dorian's orgasm, Bull hits his own. He grabs Dorian close to him, pushes deep in lazy thrusts as he finishes, careful not to draw out too far as he fills Dorian, marks him in the most primal way. Bull looks over as ice spreads across the floor of their tent and he shivers at the sight of it and the sudden chill that rolls off it. But it melts almost as quickly as it appeared and Bull actually chuckles. He trails languid kisses over Dorian's shoulder and murmurs soft praise.
Slowly, Bull adjusts their position. He pulls out reluctantly and eases onto his back next to the mage, and just as quickly pulls Dorian against his side. "Get a little overwhelmed there, big guy?" Bull can't help but smile and he gives Dorian a kiss before he can get too annoyed. The magical misfires are new to Bull still, but at least now he knows that they can happen.
It's deeply gratifying to feel Bull spill inside him, marking him as surely as the bruises he's left on his hips. The moments after they've both finished, as they're both readjusting, are perhaps some of the most intimate of the whole process. Dorian appreciates that Bull doesn't pull out immediately. There's little that breaks him out of his pleasant post-orgasmic haze more jarringly than an immediate withdrawal. Still, the emptiness Bull leaves is uniquely disappointing. The way he draws him into his arms almost immediately does a great deal to make up for it, however.
"If I did, it's entirely your fault," Dorian grumbles, though he accepts Bull's kiss. In truth, he's deeply embarrassed about losing control. As powerful and experienced as he is, that simply shouldn't happen.
"Mm, I can live with that." Bull smiles and tips his head to brush his lips over Dorian's dark hair. Before they can cool down too much, Bull grabs a blanket to pull over them. He should probably grab a cloth to help Dorian clean off, but-- this first. Just for a little while.
Bull feels warm and heavy in all the best ways, especially with Dorian tucked against his side, held there easily. He tries not to let his mind drift too much - to the next day, the next week, returning to Skyhold. Will this change? Will Dorian decide he's had enough or that the risk isn't worth it?
"Least we'll both sleep like the dead tonight." And if Dorian doesn't, Bull can't be blamed. He's done his part.
For once, Dorian's imagination doesn't get away from him. He thinks only of the warmth of Bull's body, the handsome curve of his smile, and the gentle way he guides him to lay beside him, curled up there sated and secure as he has so many other nights over the last month. Perhaps the combination of sex and magic have worn him out especially, but he can't bring himself to think of anything beyond this moment, and the way his fondness for Bull aches sweetly within him.
"A charming turn of phrase," Dorian sighs, nuzzling against Bull's chest as he settles into place beside him. He sleeps on Bull more often than he does a real pillow, these days. He's begun to grow used to it. "Wake me before you go," he murmurs, a little softer. He's grown to prefer waking with Bull still next to him to finding him already gone.
Bull nuzzles Dorian's hair and gives him a gentle squeeze. "I will," he promises quietly. "Can't have you missing breakfast."
He suspects it will be a long day, hopefully one that involved killing Venatori. There's only so much they can get done in the daylight, though. It's easier to travel at night, less likely to exhaust any of them. They'll cover what ground they can, he suspects, before finding somewhere to shelter until the worst of the heat has passed.
His fingers brush lazily over Dorian's back in absent circles. He won't leave Dorian to wake up alone again. Not if he has a choice.
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He feels loose and tender and open, heavy with relaxation. His skin is smooth and bright with oil, and Bull's grip is strong on his hips, tethering him. Bull has him. "Please," he says quietly, just that word. His fingers curl into the blankets beneath him, forehead pressing into a pillow. He breathes in slow, shuddering breaths. There is something inside of him that needs so badly to be filled; Bull is the only one who's ever come close to it. Who's ever made him feel precisely like this: protected, treasured, desired.
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He murmurs something sweet in soft Qunlat against Dorian's golden, gleaming skin. Bull leans over him, protective and cherishing as he works.
"You feel ready?" Even if he knows the answer, he still feels compelled to ask. He keeps after Dorian for a moment more, regardless of the answer, because he is nothing if not thorough. Eventually he picks up the oil again an slips his fingers free so that he can slick himself.
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Tonight, Bull's fingers barely stretch him. It feels more like he's testing, reassuring himself that Dorian is still open enough. He sighs longingly as they press deep, slowly, almost agonizingly so. Bull's mouth brushes over his back, laying a path of warm kisses up his spine, and covering him with his bulk. Dorian hadn't thought it possible to melt further beneath him, but he does.
"Yes, entirely," Dorian responds almost dreamily. He makes a soft, vaguely disappointed noise as Bull's fingers leave him, but he can't be too upset, as he knows it's only because he's going to get what he really wants. "You should fuck me now."
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He covers the mage as he leans over him, looms, really, thanks to his height. It takes nothing to guide himself in. He still can't quite bring himself to just push deep in a single thrust, even if it feels so much easier now than it had earlier in the day. Bull murmurs praise in heavy, quiet Qunlat as he slowly sinks deep. He drops his head, letting his brow bump gently against the back of Dorian's neck. He kisses the mage there, lifting his head only when their bodies fully meet.
Bull runs his free hand up Dorian's thigh and along his side, touching him everywhere that he can as he moves his hips in lazy, indulgent thrusts. He doesn't know how long Dorian will let him get away with it, but he'll enjoy it while he can.
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He feels almost too hot, warmed by the Bull's hands on him, rubbing the ache from his muscles, and the Bull's bulk above him, pressing over his back--just heavy enough to really feel his presence, his size. That alone is enough to make him weak-kneed. Before that first night, he'd never been with anyone like Bull. He'd acted as confidently as he could, intent on showing him that he could give as good as he got, that he wasn't frightened or intimidated or cowed, but truthfully, it had been an entirely novel experience. Bull has since shown him the absolute extent of pleasure his body can feel, as no one else has ever managed to. And not only that. Being held through the night after is somehow an even more novel experience.
"Like that, just like that," he gasps, eyes closed, lids fluttering. Bull's thick cock drags slowly across the most sensitive spot inside him, and his thighs shake.
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There are things he's getting used to, too. Things that he's noticed about other lovers but never gotten the chance to explore or experience more than once. It isn't hard for him to learn someone's needs and wants, but it's different to be able to practice that again and again. The satisfaction he feels seeing the euphoric look on Dorian's face after Bull bites him, or the desperate way the mage will clutch at him, grabbing any part of him that he can reach, when they're face to face. Sometimes when they're not.
Just like that. The command sinks pleasantly through Bull's mind, even if Dorian didn't mean it as one. He adjusts their position just a bit, using his knees to push Dorian's further apart. It doesn't quite bring the mage down far enough to find relief against the blankets, but it does force Bull to stay slow. Can't get ahead of himself, no matter how good he feels. He's willing to wait until Dorian begs for something else. Maybe he won't. Maybe this is all he needs tonight.
Bull would be content with that, too.
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Bull grinds into him, so deep Dorian can feel his hips against the curve of his ass every time. The rhythmic slap of skin on skin is, obscenely, the loudest sound in the tent. Dorian tilts his head to the side, eyes sliding slowly open, half-lidded as he gazes up at Bull over his shoulder. His pupils are blown wide, so dark they nearly swallow the gray of his irises.
"Put your hands on my hips," is his only request, so soft it's nearly a whisper. Bull will have to lean back, and as much as Dorian will miss his weight against his back, the idea of Bull's fingers (blunt claws) digging into his hips and dragging him back onto his cock with every thrust is enough to make up for it.
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The only downside is that he can't kiss or bite Dorian anymore, so Bull tries to make up for the loss with the snap of his hips, the grind every time he drags Dorian back. One hand lets go so he can run it up Dorian's back just to feel the muscles move beneath golden skin.
"Dorian." He Bull sighs his name like a prayer, the only sound he's willing to let breathe.
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Bull's hands are huge, covering his hips entirely and clutching at the softer flesh there with a bruising strength, his nails a sharper pressure. It's a perfect counterpoint to the almost mind-numbing pleasure, the perfect way Bull's cock fills him, the way it glides smoothly into his stretched hole, driving him wonderfully made with the slow, steady build of energy in his body. His back cools quickly without Bull covering him, breaking into goosebumps. He shivers at the touch of cool air, a relief from the overwhelming heat.
When he moves his fingers from the blankets, he leaves ice crystals behind in the shape of his handprint. Face buried against the crook of his other arm, he doesn't notice. He does gasp harshly when he reaches between his legs and begins pumping his own cock, but by then his touch is hot again--unnaturally so.
"Oh, Bull," he groans, responding viscerally to the sound of his name in the Bull's wonderful low voice, "yes, harder, yes--" He manages to keep his eyes open, manages to watch Bull over his shoulder. He looks magnificent towering over him like this, all wide shoulders and flexing muscle and Andraste's pyre, his horns. "Bull," he gasps, "I'll--you're going to make me--" It's difficult even to finish the thought, let alone voice it.
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Bull will never get tired of this. The way Dorian practically trembles to pieces, the soft, urgent sound of his voice as he reaches his peak. He mutters softly as Dorian gets tighter, adjusting his place just to make sure that he doesn't hurt Dorian as he comes. To that end, Bull pushes deep at the tell-tale gasps, the soft, breathless warning. He stays deep, grinding his hips as he slowly sinks down over Dorian again, completely covering him. One hand presses to the bedroll while the other arm wraps around the mages chest.
"That's it," he murmurs, heavy and deep. "Let me feel it."
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From the sweltering heat of their bed, a sheet of magical ice races across the tent floor, nearly all the way to their packs and the trunk in the corner. The excess magic races through Dorian as surely as his orgasm had, overflowing in much the same way, unbidden and uncontrolled. He can't sustain the spell, so the ice begins to melt almost immediately. Dorian's head is still spinning, aftershocks of his climax and magic both making his body thrum.
Bull is grounding, centering as he leans over him, a thick, impossibly strong arm holding him secure. A final shiver races down Dorian's spine with the sound of Bull's voice in his ear, the thrilling depth and gravelly quality of it.
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Slowly, Bull adjusts their position. He pulls out reluctantly and eases onto his back next to the mage, and just as quickly pulls Dorian against his side. "Get a little overwhelmed there, big guy?" Bull can't help but smile and he gives Dorian a kiss before he can get too annoyed. The magical misfires are new to Bull still, but at least now he knows that they can happen.
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"If I did, it's entirely your fault," Dorian grumbles, though he accepts Bull's kiss. In truth, he's deeply embarrassed about losing control. As powerful and experienced as he is, that simply shouldn't happen.
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Bull feels warm and heavy in all the best ways, especially with Dorian tucked against his side, held there easily. He tries not to let his mind drift too much - to the next day, the next week, returning to Skyhold. Will this change? Will Dorian decide he's had enough or that the risk isn't worth it?
"Least we'll both sleep like the dead tonight." And if Dorian doesn't, Bull can't be blamed. He's done his part.
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"A charming turn of phrase," Dorian sighs, nuzzling against Bull's chest as he settles into place beside him. He sleeps on Bull more often than he does a real pillow, these days. He's begun to grow used to it. "Wake me before you go," he murmurs, a little softer. He's grown to prefer waking with Bull still next to him to finding him already gone.
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He suspects it will be a long day, hopefully one that involved killing Venatori. There's only so much they can get done in the daylight, though. It's easier to travel at night, less likely to exhaust any of them. They'll cover what ground they can, he suspects, before finding somewhere to shelter until the worst of the heat has passed.
His fingers brush lazily over Dorian's back in absent circles. He won't leave Dorian to wake up alone again. Not if he has a choice.