aban_aqun | The Hissing Wastes

Settling across Bull's lap is infinitely better than where he had been. Bull is clearly nothing less than amused by Dorian's insistence, which Dorian can't decide if he's pleased or annoyed by. He's quite serious about this, after all. But before he can decide, Bull gives him a choice. And even though he'd just suggested Bull picking him up again himself, the fact that Bull is actually giving it consideration and acknowledging it as a possibility has Dorian reeling. That might just be a long-time fantasy. But he can't appear too eager. That would give Bull far too much ammunition to tease him with.

"Let's see where this goes, shall we?" He says lightly, as though it doesn't matter to him either way. "Just don't put me down again," he instructs, and shifts his hips to settle more firmly in Bull's lap. Grinding down against Bull in the process is, of course, entirely deliberate. He settles his hands on Bull's wide chest and leans in to kiss him again, keen on distracting himself that way for a bit.

Bull's breath catches as Dorian grinds against him. Even if Dorian's trying to hide it, he saw the way he reacted to the possibility of being held up during sex. Maybe they'll have to try it tonight after all.

He leans in to meet the kiss and slides his hands over Dorian's thighs and the perfect curve of his ass. He'll say this: Dorian knows how to dress to advantage. After they started having sex regularly it became impossible for Bull to ignore. As his hands move, he starts working free buckles and straps. It'd be too much to undress Dorian entirely, especially out here, where they aren't really protected. But they don't need to be naked for this. Bull has everything else they need.

"Too bad you don't like those robes the Enchanters here like," he murmurs as he slides his mouth down Dorian's neck. "Easy to just lift those up." He grins against the mage's skin and scrapes his teeth over his pulse.

Dorian hums his approval when Bull's hand slide up his thighs and over his ass. It's almost disappointing when they wander further to begin unbuckling various straps on his person. Bull's gotten good at remembering which of them hold up the most important pieces of the garment in order to get him out of it quickly.

"Oh, so you've finally noticed that I don't wear a skirt?" Dorian quips, even as he tilts his chin to let Bull kiss and nip along his neck. It shouldn't be as arousing as it is, though, that Bull laments him not wearing a different outfit just for ease of access. It conjures a...certain image. More embarrassing things have made his cock hard, he supposes. "If I did," he says lightly, "I'd be depriving you of an excellent view. Whatever would you look at while we traverse the countryside? The scenery?"

His pulse beats hard and fast beneath Bull's lips and his fingers curl into his chest, unvarnished nails dragging against Bull's skin.

"Maybe I wouldn't have the view, but I'd have my imagination to keep me entertained," he quips as he works loose and open the most important parts of Dorian's gear. Bull pauses his mission to give some attention to Dorian's cock as soon as he can get to it. He meets the mage's gaze as he strokes him.

"Besides, this would be much easier," he quips, his voice warm as he teases Dorian, letting his palm graze the head of his cock before he strokes down again. He can feel Dorian's blunt nails digging against his chest and he suddenly wonders what it might take to have Dorian clawing at him. He shouldn't keep them out here too long: someone will come looking for them, especially if they find their abandoned dinner bowls. Better to be quick this time.

Had Bull not chosen that moment to begin stroking his cock, Dorian might have had a wittier response. As it is, he manages, "It's easy enough," followed by a low moan as Bull's hand drags along his length. Bull's hands are rough and warm and huge, and Dorian takes a few moments to simply enjoy the sensation, letting pleasure spread through him in with each stroke as he gradually grows hard.

Not to be outdone, however, he reaches for the massive buckle of the Bull's belt, and has to use both hands to undo it. It's good that he isn't wearing his full kit, at least, or else he'd need help with it. Once the belt is open, however, it's a simple matter of rearranging his voluminous pants and sitting up enough to free Bull's cock.

It's a stark contrast when they do this together, Bull's hand on him and his on Bull. Even soft, or nearly so, Dorian's fingers barely meet around his girth, whereas Bull's palm covers nearly the entirety of Dorian's cock; not because Dorian is small, but because Bull is big. Dorian bites back another moan--one never knows how sound may carry in a place like this--as he tilts his chin down to watch. He pumps Bull slowly, base to tip, fingers squeezing lightly around the head. For lack of options, he uses a spell to conjure oil in his hand, spreading it to make his strokes easier, slicker.

Bull groans quietly and drops his head back. He grunts when it hits the rock behind him but he doesn't seem overly concerned, much more interested in the way Dorian's hand strokes along his cock, suddenly slick and easy. He huffs a laugh.

"Might start to love that spell."

He looks down between them and can't help but enjoy the way Dorian's hand looks wrapped around his heavy cock. Bull nudges into a kiss and gets an arm around Dorian's hips to pull him closer. It takes little effort to wrap his around around Dorian's cock and his own and he hides a moan against the mage's mouth as he strokes them together.

Dorian gives a cheeky grin, meeting Bull's eye. "I've given you good reason," he teases, and then gives him another--a slow, slick stroke along the length of Bull's shaft. He leans happily into Bull as the Qunari urges him closer. He's glad he isn't the only one stifling his sounds of pleasure in their kiss. He's only a little reluctant to relinquish his hold to Bull, though once a rhythm is established his hips roll almost of their own accord. He rubs his cock shamelessly against Bull's, held tight in the grip of his huge hand.

When he wraps his arms tight around Bull's neck it brings them flush together again, and Dorian lets himself sink deep into the feeling of Bull's warm bulk against him and the steady waves of pleasure that roll through him with each stroke of his hand, consistent as the tide. He knows he'll come quickly if this keeps up, and he doesn't protest or move to slow their momentum, despite what else is on offer. He kisses Bull again to keep himself quiet, though the occasional whimper is still audible, drawn involuntarily from his throat.

Bull tightens his jaw to avoid making too much noise after they break from the kiss. He barely needs to do anything as Dorian moves his hips, giving him the friction he needs. With a low moan he meets the next kiss, his arm tight around Dorian to give him support and to keep them close together.

The words that come next sound almost pained for what they offer: "If you want more, we need to stop," he breathes, almost dazed. "We have to move." He'd told Dorian he would hold him against the rocks if that's what he wanted, but-- He could finish like this. He knows he can and he will, quickly, if they keep it up.

"Dorian..."

Dorian does want more. He always does. These days he misses the fullness of Bull inside him like he belongs there. How it feels to be with him, split open and spread wide and cherished for it. Increasingly, stolen moments like this have begun to give him a very similar feeling of contentment.

"I don't care," he gasps, and presses his mouth to Bull's again, desperately, imploringly. "Bull, don't move, please."

Dorian clings to him, thrusts into his fingers, against his cock. Bull's arm is locked around his back, unyielding, and Dorian absolutely can't imagine pulling away for long enough to undress more. For the moment, he just wants Bull, however he can have him.

Bull groans in answer to Dorian's desperate encouragement. He makes a wordless, assuring sound and meets the next kiss with a heady mix of relief and urgency. Relief that this doesn't have to stop; urgency to meet the crest rising in him. They can't be gone long. The last thing they need is for a scout to find them like this.

"Come for me," he murmurs, heavy and low between them. Bull voices the command, the request, just moments before his own peak hits him. He growls and buries his face against Dorian's neck, biting him to avoid making a louder sound. His cock pulses between them, spilling over his hand and over Dorian. He makes some attempt to contain the mess but it-- isn't easy.

He breathes heavily against Dorian's skin, dizzy with the scent of him and the way the mage's body feels tucked against his. "Dorian-- Dorian let me have it. Come on."

Dorian probably doesn't need the encouragement, but Bull gives it all the same.

He doesn't need it, but he loves it. "Oh Maker, Bull," he gasps, watching the way Bull's cock throbs between them, the mess he makes as he comes hard all over both of them. The slide of Dorian's cock is that much slicker now with Bull's release, and he whimpers as he continues to thrust against Bull's softening length and into his fist. It builds so quickly it's dizzying, and he comes barely a few breaths after Bull finishes, his entire body seizing tight for a moment and then releasing as he comes all over Bull's cock in a quick succession of steady pulses. It's a satisfying sight.

He clings to Bull, and his shoulder stings with the fresh bite he'd left there, and he lets the warm, lingering effects of orgasm make his head light, his vision unfocused, as he leans against his much larger lover.

Bull pulls Dorian tighter against him when he feels the mage come. Dorian is beautiful when he falls apart and all Bull wants to do is savor the moment. His hand slows and stop but he doesn't quite let go of them yet. He likes feeling Dorian cling to him like this, loves the sound of his breathing and the tension in his hands and arms. Bull nuzzles against his neck, pressing a kiss where he's left a bruise.

"Still with me?" he murmurs as Dorian's weight sinks against him. Bull manages to find a handkerchief to clean them both off, at least as best he could out here without any water. He gently tucks Dorian away first. Bull doesn't care if anyone catches him exposed, but he'll save Dorian's dignity if he can.

He turns his head to catch Dorian in a lazy kiss.

"Mm," Dorian hums in confirmation, still drifting. But he's present enough to return Bull's kiss, lax as it is. It feels good not to have to rush back to the real world after things are over, knowing that Bull is there holding him, getting him cleaned up and presentable again. What an infuriatingly reliable man. Dorian kisses him again for his trouble. He rests a hand flat on Bull's broad chest as the other curls around the base of a horn, thumb stroking gently at the skin there. "You're so good to me," he murmurs absently.

He's had kind lovers and considerate lovers, yes, plenty of them--not all of his trysts have left him bad off, or he'd have stopped doing this altogether long ago. (No, no, he probably wouldn't have.) But none who have cared for him quite as diligently or completely as the Bull, who seems to truly take some kind of personal satisfaction from it. Dorian likes it very much.

"We have to go back soon, I suppose," he sighs, and forces himself to begin reconciling with the idea of getting to his feet and walking. Straight back to their tent, he hopes.

Bull offers a small, soft smile and brushes a kiss to Dorian's cheek. It makes him feel good to take care of people. He likes pampering his lovers, when they let him. Dorian is particularly satisfying to give that kind of attention to: he soaks it up, relishes it, appreciates it.

"Soon," he agrees as he reaches between them to right his own clothes. It's a significantly easier process than putting Dorian back in order. Just like that, they're covered up. "Otherwise Harding is going to set some poor scout on our trail, and the're already terrified of me."

Bull smiles and smooths his hands down Dorian's back and over his thighs. He wants to offer to carry Dorian, but he doesn't think the mage's dignity will allow it.

Dorian smiles just as softly at the press of Bull's lips, indeed soaking up the attention, just as Bull notes. He loves feeling wanted, and Bull never makes him feel anything less, even after sex. If anything, he's especially considerate then, which puts to rest many of Dorian's concerns.

"Terrified of you?" He can't help but scoff. "I think they're more afraid of me, frankly." Bull is friendly and likable, and at least he has the Chargers vouching for him; Vashoth mercenaries aren't exactly common in southern Thedas this side of the Waking Sea, but they're certainly more so than evil Tevinter magisters. Still, he understands where Bull is coming from. "Let's head back then, shall we?"

He uses Bull's shoulders for support as he gets up out of his lap and stands, dusting some sand from his robes and fixing his hair, though it had never gotten mussed in the first place. He looks perfectly well in order, no sign of a semi-public liaison anywhere--apart from the bite on his shoulder, which he tugs his robe over with only a slight frown.

"Mm. Might have caught a few of them talking about you. About us." Bull stays still while Dorian leverages himself up. He reaches back to grip the rocks behind him so that he can get himself up. The downside about his size is that there are few people that can brace themselves enough to actually help him get up. He has to rely on the landscape or sheer force of will.

He stretches carefully once he's upright and adjusts his belt to make sure that he's not in danger of losing his pants.

Bull catches Dorian trying to cover the bruise on his shoulder and he has the decency to look apologetic. "Sorry. I should've been more careful."

"Quite all right," Dorian says somewhat stiffly. "I didn't discourage you, so it's as much my fault as yours." It's nothing the application of a little magic can't fix. He isn't an adept healer by any means, but with a little concentration, the bruise lightens and then fades entirely, replaced by healthy, unblemished skin. "There we are. No harm done." Literally.

Turning back in the direction of camp, Dorian waits for Bull to join him. "What were they saying?" He asks, doing quite a good job of seeming unaffected. And he is, for the most part. Curious, but not morbidly so. Unfavorable rumors about himself are nothing new, and he's long learned to live with them, even if he doesn't like them. But he does like to know what's being whispered, at least. And these days he worries about his association casting the Inquisitor in a bad light. Or Bull, in this case. "About me? Us?"

Bull isn't sure what he feels as he watches the mark disappear. Some kind of loss or disappointment, he isn't sure how to name it. He pushes it out of his mind and gives Dorian a quick smile when he proclaims himself healed.

"Mm, something about how they wondered how you haven't been crushed yet. Then some lewd but creative suggestions about positions."

The gossip is as much about Bull as they are about Dorian. He can handle it, but he knows that Dorian would prefer things private. The least he can do is scare the shit out of people that think that kind of thing is worth spreading around. Soldiers will always gossip, can't stop it. Especially about things like the members of the Inquisitor's inner circle. But he can try.

Dorian's lip curls. "So that's it," he says disdainfully. It's certainly no worse than anything else that's ever been said about him, but something about this gossip in particular annoys him to the point where he wants to spite it by waltzing back into camp with Bull's arm around him, or holding his hand, or tucked against his side. It makes him want to kiss Bull where anyone can see, as sweetly as they'd kissed just now. If everyone thinks he's fucking Bull just for the Qunari experience, then let them see that it isn't like they suppose. He cares for Bull far more than that.

But that would start the wrong kind of rumors, too. And so he lets it lie.

"How tiresome. I'm sure I've thought of ten better just today," Dorian sniffs instead. "It probably doesn't bother you, does it?" He asks. He isn't sure whether he wants Bull to disagree or not.

There's something about Dorian's righteous annoyance that makes Bull feel... warm. He wants to smile, and nearly does. The question is more complicated than it should be, he thinks, but he owes Dorian an answer.

Bull sighs quietly and stops walking for a moment as he looks toward the camp. He tries to parse out where his feelings for Dorian are tangled with his ideas of self-worth, his feelings of confidence and value.

"For what it may do to your reputation, yes. People always think I'm a brute, that's not new."

It bothers him, now and then, but for the most part he's learned to let it go. They aren't wrong: he is brutal.

Bull stops, and Dorian stops with him, raising a skeptical brow. "Considering I've got no reputation to speak of beyond untrustworthy Tevinter, I don't think you have much to worry about," he says wryly. "And you are a brute," he teases, and leans up to kiss Bull again before they're too close to camp, a hand braced on his chest. His voice lowers as he smiles against Bull's mouth, amused and wicked. Just the way I like it is implied. "But also a considerate and worthwhile lover," he adds, and barely registers that it's the first time he's used that word to describe Bull aloud. "That's the rumor I heard about you, at least, before I considered finding out for myself."

Stepping back again, he glances out across the desert for a moment before he turns his face back up to Bull. He doesn't need to confirm that the rumors, spread mostly from tavern and castle staff Bull had tumbled at one time or another, were correct in this case.

"Shouldn't you be proud, Iron Bull?" He wonders, finding himself genuinely curious. "You certainly weren't subtle about your overtures. Now everyone knows you've conquered me at last."

"But you do," he says quietly. "The longer you're here, the longer you're part of the Inquisition... More people are realizing what you contribute and how much the Inquisitor trusts you. Yeah, there's bad rumors out there. But there's some impressed ones, too."

And he doesn't want to ruin Dorian's chances at being considered-- respectable. Whatever it is that might make him feel good and worthy.

"No, I wasn't. But it was never about conquest for me."

There's a crack there, he knows. A hint of vulnerability. He teased Dorian about ravaging and conquest but mostly because he knew it would get a rise out of him and that Dorian might very much like the idea of being held down and conquered.

Perhaps Bull is right. The regular librarians and researchers who have gotten to know him well certainly speak highly of him, he knows that much--apart from his propensity to leave books lying around, that is. He's beginning to carve his own niche. But he can't imagine that any of the people who've actually come to like him might like him less because he's sleeping with Bull. But the reverse may not be true. What will Bull's Chargers think when they find out?

Likely the same thing everyone else thinks, Dorian's mind supplies at once. A conquest.

But Bull tells him otherwise.

"Then what was it about?" Confusion overtakes Dorian's face. He understands that Bull had likely said those things to get a rise out of him--and because he read him correctly. But he'd certainly seemed pleased by the idea of getting Dorian in bed, and didn't mind others knowing about it.

Perhaps that's all it is. Bull isn't ashamed of him, but rather--well, rather the opposite. Dorian isn't a prize, but he is prized. There's a notable difference. His voice lowers, softens.

"And what is it about now?"

"I like you, Dorian." Bull starts there because it's simple and it's true. "You're witty, the back and forth was fun. Then it turned into real flirting and--"

He frowns faintly but not at Dorian. He looks at a point in the sand, trying to pull together words to articulate feelings that he doesn't entirely know what to do with. He wants to be blunt, he wants to explain that for Qunari sex and friendship are two things that just don't overlap. Emotional intimacy but not necessarily physical intimacy. That's what tamassrans are for. But that feels weak in the face of how he feels about the mage standing next to him. Dorian is his friend, and he enjoys that. He also enjoys having sex with him. A lot, as it turns out.

Bull resists the urge to make any frustrated noises; he doesn't want Dorian to misinterpret them.

"I enjoy what we have," he manages at last. "I don't want you to.. regret it. Not for any reason. Least of all because of nasty gossip."

Dorian's nerves are high, stomach suddenly twisting itself into knots. Bull takes his time explaining, and pauses for so long that Dorian begins to worry. It's unlike Bull to stumble so over his words. As crude as he can be, he's also incredibly articulate. But what he finally settles on stuns him.

What we have, he says, like there's...something there to have, something concrete. Dorian's heart flutters in his chest, though he knows that can't be how Bull means it. Qunari, he reminds himself for the thousandth time, as though it weren't glaringly obvious. Still, it's nice to confirm that he isn't the only one adrift in unfamiliar waters. They're friends, ultimately, and Dorian doesn't want Bull to feel badly about this.

"I won't regret it. Certainly not over something so trivial," he assures, moving close to settle his hands lightly on Bull's forearms. It's touching, really, that Bull is being so considerate of him. "I may not care for it, but I understand that gossip is inevitable, Bull," he says quietly. "You know I think far more of you than that, yes? Than what they--imply I want you for." He swallows tightly, yet manages a suitably coquettish smile--one that's also warm and genuine. "Of course, your cock is impressive, and I thank the Maker for it daily, but it isn't the reason I like you, you oaf. In case that was at all in doubt."

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