During his part of the debriefing, Bull accurately maps out - from memory - troop movements through Orlais, as well as other clusters of interest. Bandits, renegade groups breaking out to take advantage of the civil war. He'd been observing through their entire journey: things that Lavellen wouldn't necessarily think to note of or remember to report. The Inquisitor has enough going on; this is part of why Bull is here. He adds a few more things to the map, and when Leliana asks where his information is from, Bull just gives her a look.
"The letters were already opened," he says dryly. "You know." Even if she couldn't translate them, she knew. Since he joined the Inquisition, he and Leliana have been circling each other like alley cats. Bull finds it invigorating; Leliana seems to find it frustrating. She's a good spy, but so is he. And he has a multilingual advantage that she and her agents just can't match.
Once the meeting closes, Bull lingers as the others filter out to find food, drink, rest, or more hot water. Soon enough, he and Dorian are the only ones left, with Dorian closing the distance between them. Lemon and iris. Something in Bull's expression softens as he watches the mage move.
"I thought about it," he admits, studying Dorian for his tells. Dorian has been protecting himself for a long time, but Bull has spent three months intimately getting to know him, and he'd spent months before that learning everything else. "Would you care to join me?"
It's a hand held out, a clear offer that Dorian can take or leave. It's not exactly uncommon for them all to drink together, it's a relatively safe invitation. Bull is already trying to think of ways to coax Dorian back to his room for the night. He's been spoiled having a companion in his bed so consistently, he isn't looking forward to losing that. He doesn't see why either of them has to give that comfort up.
It's a tempting offer, and it does mean something that Bull cares to make it. There usually is quite a gathering at the Rest on the night of the Inquisitor's return; Dorian is used to being there to drink away the aches of the road. But he thinks about the circumstances. Sitting with Bull and his boys can be strained at the best of times; he isn't exactly beloved by them, and if any of them have heard about his involvement with their leader, he'll no doubt be made the subject of their jokes all evening. He doesn't think he's prepared to subject himself to that.
"Not tonight," he declines reluctantly with a small, strained smile. "A glass of brandy, a book, and my own bed are calling too loudly to ignore."
A quiet evening in doesn't sound bad; he can build up the fire in his room's hearth, burrow beneath his blankets, nurse some better booze than what he'd find at the Rest and read. That he'll then have to fall asleep alone for the first time in several months is...well, he'll have to get used to it sometime. He's slept alone for over thirty years. A few months spent sharing a bedroll shouldn't make such a difference, surely?
"I'm sure you've been missed," he encourages. "I'll see you at breakfast, provided you aren't too indisposed in the morning."
Bull wants to ask if Dorian would like company. A quiet night sounds as appealing as a rowdy one, and it would mean spending time with Dorian. A glass of brandy, a bed, and maybe painting Dorian's toes...
He pushes the thought out of his head. Everything Dorian just described sounds like a solitary night, and Bull can't begrudge him the space. They've been sharing camps for three months, having a door between himself and the rest of the world probably sounds good right about now.
"You mean hung over?" he says dryly, a small smile appearing. "Krem and some of the boys are off on a mission for Cullen in the morning. I'll be up to see them off."
He's glad the Inquisition can make use of the Chargers and he's grateful for the steady pay his boys are getting now.
After just a breath of hesitation, Bull lifts a hand to brush the backs of his fingers along Dorian's cheek. "Sleep well, Dorian. You've certainly earned it."
As he had in fact meant hung over, Dorian can't help but chuckle. "All the more reason for you to spend time with them tonight, then," he reasons. If a good portion of the Chargers are leaving in the morning, then that gives Bull very little time to catch up with them.
It's something of a surprise when Bull's fingers trace lightly over his face. The touch, soft and affectionate as it is, feels as intimate as a kiss. Dorian is half tempted to initiate one himself. But that way lies the sort of entanglement on his side that he's vowed to avoid; he would never be able to live with himself if he broke down now and confessed to Bull that he doesn't really wish to spend the night alone.
"Good night, Bull. If you do miss breakfast, I will never let you forget it." He reaches up to squeeze Bull's hand briefly in farewell before stepping away. He turns to go, and makes himself walk away before he can hesitate.
That night, it takes him a long time to fall asleep without the Bull's now familiar presence beside him.
He spends the next day as he normally would at Skyhold. The Bull does not miss breakfast, which Dorian notes to his face with some teasing feigned surprise. After that Dorian spends the majority of the day in the library, primarily catching up on work he'd had to put on hold and talking with the other mages about his field research. As he takes his meals at odd times after losing himself in his work, he sees Bull again only briefly in passing before it's time to retire for the evening.
Dorian makes a valiant attempt not to think about how this is the longest they've gone without seeing one another in months. He is absolutely not pining, or anything so ridiculous. He just needs time to adjust. He brings a little more work to his room as a distraction to pass the time before he's tired enough for sleep. The desk in his quarters is too cluttered to really sit at, so he spreads things out on his bed, and sits cross-legged in the middle, dressed in the simple, loose garments he often wears to bed in colder climates. A few candles burn around the room, but the primary light comes from the hearth, where he's stoked the fire to a sizable blaze. Who could blame him, with how frigid it is outside?
Bull has plenty of things to keep himself busy after seeing the Chargers off. He trains in the yard with some of the soldiers, he spends the afternoon with Vivienne, catching up and getting gossip. He sees glimpses of Dorian here and there but there's no real reason for them to run into each other. He finds himself missing the mage's presence, the sound of his voice, his familiar scent. Little things he's become accustomed to over the last few months.
He eats alone in the tavern that night, content to keep to himself as he considers his plan. He misses Dorian, that's the simple fact. There's no reason why they should keep apart, is there? The last three months will catch up with them one way or another, why punish themselves?
As the night gets quieter, Bull finds his way up to Dorian's room. He knows his way around most of Skyhold now and he can get most places without being seen by too many people. There's still light from beneath Dorian's door when he gets there, so Bull knocks and makes it a point to ignore the weird flutter in his chest. This is a calculated risk, but a risk none the less.
A knock at his door at this hour is either an emergency or a very unexpected visitor; Dorian is immensely relieved to open it and find that it's the latter, even if his appearance is still surprising. Oh, but what a pleasant surprise it is. "Bull," he says, that sort of shocked observation when seeing something unexpected, when the brain can do nothing but state the obvious.
I was just thinking of you, he could say; that wouldn't be too strange, would it? Certainly less odd than I've been thinking of you all day, which is also true.
In the end, he says neither of these things. "Come in," he ushers. "Venhedis, it's cold--aren't you freezing?" Almost reflexively he reaches for the Bull's hands after he closes the door behind him, channeling magical warmth through his own fingers and into Bull's.
Bull huffs a quiet laugh when Dorian pulls him in. "I've gotten used to it," he admits as Dorian takes his hands to start warming them. He can't help the soft look he gives the mage, not even complaining as he works his magic. Bull strokes his thumbs over Dorian's.
He probably should dig out more of his cold weather gear. He has things he can wear that don't need to go over his head.
As Dorian takes care of his hands, Bull gets his first good look at the mage's room. Unlike Leliana, he didn't need to go through Dorian's things to learn about him, and so he'd never had a reason to be here. But now-- Bull almost wants to laugh. He's seen Dorian's work spaces, but he hadn't quite expected that sort of clutter to follow him back to his bedroom. The desk is already overflowing and he can see the nest of books and papers Dorian left behind to answer the door.
"Can you actually find things in all of this?" he teases.
There's a little thrill as Bull's thumbs stroke over his, a confirmation that he wasn't wrong to initiate this contact. It's good to have that reassurance; he's more than a little nervous, oddly, and had worried for a moment that he'd jumped in too quickly.
"You're fit to talk," Dorian sniffs, "given the state of your quarters." But something seems off about that, even as he says it. Bull is always so neat and efficient when they travel, and he'd always kept their tent tidy. That his room should be so messy seems almost...
But that isn't so important, is it? Dorian opts to save that thought for another time in favor of coming right out and asking what he really wants to know, though far more casually than he actually feels.
"What's brought you all the way here? Has Cabot stopped serving so early?" He knows that's impossible, of course, but there has to be some reason. Some reason beyond the foolish hope quickly filling Dorian's chest despite himself; he wanted to see me. He's missed me.
Bull only hums in response. Dorian's right, of course: his room above the tavern is a wreck. But it looks like that for a reason, and Bull is content to let it stay that way for now.
His attention shifts back to Dorian when the mage asks the important question. Bull looks down at their hands as if he's considering his answer, but he already knows. A risk. A calculated risk.
"I wanted to see you," he admits quietly. He offers a small, wry smile. "Last night was-- lonely."
Bull knows he didn't have to take it quite that far, but Dorian deserves to know that much. He's here for Dorian, he's here because he wants to spend time with him, because he misses their quiet evenings together. Bull almost offers to leave, if Dorian is busy, but holds his tongue. He'll let Dorian answer, at least, before giving himself an out.
Against all of Dorian's cautious reasoning, convincing himself out of those things he actually wants most, the Bull's answer is almost precisely what he'd been hoping for. Yet he hadn't been prepared. For a moment, he's struck entirely dumb, staring up at Bull's face as though he's just spoken in Qunlat. What's he's actually said is almost equally incomprehensible. It dawns on him; Bull feels the same.
Bull feels the same. Or similarly enough.
It doesn't matter quite so much whether Bull has missed the sex and companionship, or Dorian himself. In this instance, they're similar. He says he'd wanted to see him. He'd come here seeking him, rather than taking one of his maids or serving boys to bed, as he so easily could have. That must mean something?
"I--" Where does he even begin to navigate this? If Bull has been so honest, then he can do the same, can't he? "I felt that way, too," he admits, still holding Bull's hands, warming them. "I only...didn't want to monopolize you, you see, when we've already spent so much time together. I thought that when we returned you might want to..." He pulls a hand away for just long enough to make a vague gesture. "There are plenty of other people to spend your time with. I wasn't sure that what you wanted while traveling would still hold true here."
Bull gently squeezes Dorian's hands. Before he says anything, he leans down to catch the mage in a gentle kiss.
"It's different," he says quietly.
He's fairly certain Dorian is referring to the people he took to bed with any kind of regularity before they left Skyhold. While he's on good terms with all of those people, he wouldn't exactly call them friends. They don't know him the way that Dorian does now, and they most likely never will. And, on the off chance that he did get close to any of them, the sex generally stopped after that. Dorian is the only person he hasn't followed that pattern with.
Bull doesn't know why.
He gives Dorian a warm smile. "Monopolize me, Dorian. I rather enjoy it."
Dorian returns the kiss with a deep sense of relief and fondness. He hadn't wanted to lose what they'd built between them these last few months; it makes him happy, and--he'd hoped--he'd been able to make Bull happy, too. He'd resigned himself to going back to how things were before if he had to, but that seems not to be the case.
That doesn't mean, however, that he understands what is going on. Bull says that it's different--but there is so much there that can't be understood without explanation. It's a risk to ask, but Bull had admitted it first. Dorian's voice is soft, incredulous.
"Sex and friendship don't usually go together for me," he points out quietly. But Dorian has waltzed across those lines and Bull-- he doesn't want to go back. He doesn't want to separate those relationships. He doesn't know what to call it, he doesn't know how to categorize Dorian, and so he's just stopped trying.
"I like spending time with you. I don't want any of what we've been doing to stop, if you don't."
That's one of the few things that might make Bull back off: an explicit request from Dorian that he do so. Part of him knows it would make everything so much easier, but he doesn't... want that, and that is a strange feeling, too.
Dorian tells himself he isn't disappointed; it's the answer he should have expected. He is Bull's friend, and surely a Qunari would hardly want...more. Apparently he's already an anomaly as far as Bull's personal relationships go.
He's glad, of course, that Bull is happy to continue on the same trajectory. He squeezes his hands and smiles warmly up at him.
"I certainly don't want it to stop either," he assures. "I'm happy to be your friend, Bull. And sleeping together has been..." He laughs, feeling a bit bashful. "Well, I'm sure it's been quite obvious how much I've enjoyed it."
Bull smiles and tips his head to give Dorian another lingering kiss. "Do you want to keep standing here?" he asks. He doesn't mind, but he imagines Dorian's bed might be more comfortable.
"Mmm, I come bearing gifts," he adds as he plucks up a bottle that's been hanging from his belt. A brandy that he's noticed Dorian likes. His gaze drifts to the blanket of books and papers. "What are you working on?"
If Bull is still willing to kiss him like this, to come up here and tell him honestly that he still wants him, Dorian thinks, then he should be content with that. It's far more than he's ever had with anyone else--far more than he'd ever hope for. Especially with a man as kind and considerate and--dare he say--suited to him as the Bull. They've become very close over the last several months, and he's happy with things as they are.
They part, and Dorian laughs as he invites Bull further in. "I suppose you're allowed, as you come with brandy," he teases, and takes the bottle from Bull's hands to set it on top of the small dresser near his bed--a surface cluttered not by books or papers, but by his cosmetics. He begins to clear off the bed as well, making room for both of them to sit.
"At the moment? Genealogy of altus families," he says, with some humor. "Not a subject I ever thought I'd find myself studying in such detail, but here we are."
Bull lets Dorian do the clearing, mostly because he doesn't want to ruin any sort of organizational principle happening there. When there's enough room, Bull sinks down carefully. He reaches to pull Dorian down as soon as the mage is close enough.
"Sounds fascinating," he says with a dry look. He knows the importance of the work, but pouring through genealogies, especially considering that Dorian had done quite a bit of work to get away from that sort of thing, sounds tedious. "Anything interesting yet? Awkward amounts of inbreeding?"
Dorian smiles as he's pulled into Bull's lap, hand settling on his broad shoulders. "Oh, stop," he scolds, though he's nearly laughing as he says it. "I can't say I've seen anything particularly interesting yet--though I can safely conclude that nearly every altus family has intermarried with every other family at some point or another."
But that was something he'd already known, to some extent; everyone who understood the nature of their own family history (or had it drilled into them by strict nannies from a young age, as Dorian had) would already be aware of that much.
"You know, I can't pour us any brandy if I'm sitting in your lap," he points out, leaning close enough to kiss, but not quite closing that distance. "Unless you'd prefer to save it for later?"
"Tamassrans keep track of this kind of thing to make sure that doesn't happen," he says as he looks at the pile of paperwork. His hand slides over Dorian's thigh and he tips his head when it seems like the mage is leaning in for a kiss. Bull smiles at the question and closes the distance.
"What, no drinking it straight from the bottle?" he teases. He relaxes his hold and gives Dorian's ass a gentle swat. "Let's at least try it. If you don't like it, I'll pawn it off on Varric."
There's no question of him liking it; he's yet to meet a brandy he didn't enjoy on some level, though he'll certainly pretend to turn his nose up at some, just as he pretends to be offended by Bull;s playful slap. Regardless, he'll drink it anyway.
"Actually, drinking straight from the bottle is our only option." He stands to retrieve it from the top of the dresser, handing it unopened to Bull before settling in his lap again, this time face to face with a thigh on either side of Bull's. "You first."
Bull chuckles and accepts the bottle as Dorian settles back in his lap. It feels good to have him so close. He opens it carefully and takes a drink. It's good, one of the better ones Cabot had in stock. He offers the bottle to Dorian, curious to hear his opinion.
"Truly roughing it, I see," he teases gently. He has a good idea of what Dorian has been through since he left Tevinter, partly because the disappearance of an altus is something that goes noted. "I'll have to make off with some glasses for you."
"As you can see, I am completely destitute," Dorian confirms with suitable drama. "Not even a single glass to my name."
He puts the lip of the bottle to his mouth as soon as the Bull hands it over, no hesitation, and drinks. The liquor is warm and remarkably smooth, the flavor strong without being overpowering. Not bad at all. He drinks deeply for another moment before making a noncommittal noise. "It will do," he declares.
At this point he thinks he should be safe in asking the question he most wants to now, but past experience makes him apprehensive and hesitant. For Bull's sake, however, he gathers the courage to wonder, "Would you like to stay here tonight?"
Bull's expression softens at the invitation. "Yes," he answers. "I'd like that, thank you."
He hadn't planned to ask himself: he'd come this far, it was up to Dorian whether or not he stayed the night. He tips his head to kiss Dorian's jaw. His thumbs sweep across the mage's hips and Bull realizes that he's relieved to have that invitation. To know that he won't be sleeping alone tonight.
He pauses, then looks down at the bed. "Think we'll fit?"
To mask just how relieved he is at Bull's affirmation, Dorian takes another swig from the bottle, smiling despite himself at Bull's displays of affection, lips against his jaw and huge hands covering his hips. Bull will stay tonight, at least, and whatever happens after that they'll decide as they go.
"I'll have to sleep on top of you," Dorian jokes. "Or at least very close to your side." But he's rather used to that by now--laying his head on Bull's chest, a thick arm around his waist, drifting off pressed as close together as it's possible to be, skin to skin. "And I'm sure I have enough pillows for your head." Lacking Bull's own bolster, they'll have to pile a few up, but it should work just as well.
"We'll manage," he says fondly. "I can't imagine you'll complain too much, given the way that fire is going."
One thing Dorian hasn't had to worry about for the past three months is getting cold at night. Bull steals the bottle back to take another taste. He won't drink too much; he brought it for Dorian and it would take more than this to get him tipsy anyway.
"Learning anything interesting?" he asks as he relaxes back, shifting until he can lean against a wall.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"The letters were already opened," he says dryly. "You know." Even if she couldn't translate them, she knew. Since he joined the Inquisition, he and Leliana have been circling each other like alley cats. Bull finds it invigorating; Leliana seems to find it frustrating. She's a good spy, but so is he. And he has a multilingual advantage that she and her agents just can't match.
Once the meeting closes, Bull lingers as the others filter out to find food, drink, rest, or more hot water. Soon enough, he and Dorian are the only ones left, with Dorian closing the distance between them. Lemon and iris. Something in Bull's expression softens as he watches the mage move.
"I thought about it," he admits, studying Dorian for his tells. Dorian has been protecting himself for a long time, but Bull has spent three months intimately getting to know him, and he'd spent months before that learning everything else. "Would you care to join me?"
It's a hand held out, a clear offer that Dorian can take or leave. It's not exactly uncommon for them all to drink together, it's a relatively safe invitation. Bull is already trying to think of ways to coax Dorian back to his room for the night. He's been spoiled having a companion in his bed so consistently, he isn't looking forward to losing that. He doesn't see why either of them has to give that comfort up.
no subject
"Not tonight," he declines reluctantly with a small, strained smile. "A glass of brandy, a book, and my own bed are calling too loudly to ignore."
A quiet evening in doesn't sound bad; he can build up the fire in his room's hearth, burrow beneath his blankets, nurse some better booze than what he'd find at the Rest and read. That he'll then have to fall asleep alone for the first time in several months is...well, he'll have to get used to it sometime. He's slept alone for over thirty years. A few months spent sharing a bedroll shouldn't make such a difference, surely?
"I'm sure you've been missed," he encourages. "I'll see you at breakfast, provided you aren't too indisposed in the morning."
no subject
He pushes the thought out of his head. Everything Dorian just described sounds like a solitary night, and Bull can't begrudge him the space. They've been sharing camps for three months, having a door between himself and the rest of the world probably sounds good right about now.
"You mean hung over?" he says dryly, a small smile appearing. "Krem and some of the boys are off on a mission for Cullen in the morning. I'll be up to see them off."
He's glad the Inquisition can make use of the Chargers and he's grateful for the steady pay his boys are getting now.
After just a breath of hesitation, Bull lifts a hand to brush the backs of his fingers along Dorian's cheek. "Sleep well, Dorian. You've certainly earned it."
no subject
It's something of a surprise when Bull's fingers trace lightly over his face. The touch, soft and affectionate as it is, feels as intimate as a kiss. Dorian is half tempted to initiate one himself. But that way lies the sort of entanglement on his side that he's vowed to avoid; he would never be able to live with himself if he broke down now and confessed to Bull that he doesn't really wish to spend the night alone.
"Good night, Bull. If you do miss breakfast, I will never let you forget it." He reaches up to squeeze Bull's hand briefly in farewell before stepping away. He turns to go, and makes himself walk away before he can hesitate.
That night, it takes him a long time to fall asleep without the Bull's now familiar presence beside him.
He spends the next day as he normally would at Skyhold. The Bull does not miss breakfast, which Dorian notes to his face with some teasing feigned surprise. After that Dorian spends the majority of the day in the library, primarily catching up on work he'd had to put on hold and talking with the other mages about his field research. As he takes his meals at odd times after losing himself in his work, he sees Bull again only briefly in passing before it's time to retire for the evening.
Dorian makes a valiant attempt not to think about how this is the longest they've gone without seeing one another in months. He is absolutely not pining, or anything so ridiculous. He just needs time to adjust. He brings a little more work to his room as a distraction to pass the time before he's tired enough for sleep. The desk in his quarters is too cluttered to really sit at, so he spreads things out on his bed, and sits cross-legged in the middle, dressed in the simple, loose garments he often wears to bed in colder climates. A few candles burn around the room, but the primary light comes from the hearth, where he's stoked the fire to a sizable blaze. Who could blame him, with how frigid it is outside?
no subject
He eats alone in the tavern that night, content to keep to himself as he considers his plan. He misses Dorian, that's the simple fact. There's no reason why they should keep apart, is there? The last three months will catch up with them one way or another, why punish themselves?
As the night gets quieter, Bull finds his way up to Dorian's room. He knows his way around most of Skyhold now and he can get most places without being seen by too many people. There's still light from beneath Dorian's door when he gets there, so Bull knocks and makes it a point to ignore the weird flutter in his chest. This is a calculated risk, but a risk none the less.
no subject
I was just thinking of you, he could say; that wouldn't be too strange, would it? Certainly less odd than I've been thinking of you all day, which is also true.
In the end, he says neither of these things. "Come in," he ushers. "Venhedis, it's cold--aren't you freezing?" Almost reflexively he reaches for the Bull's hands after he closes the door behind him, channeling magical warmth through his own fingers and into Bull's.
no subject
He probably should dig out more of his cold weather gear. He has things he can wear that don't need to go over his head.
As Dorian takes care of his hands, Bull gets his first good look at the mage's room. Unlike Leliana, he didn't need to go through Dorian's things to learn about him, and so he'd never had a reason to be here. But now-- Bull almost wants to laugh. He's seen Dorian's work spaces, but he hadn't quite expected that sort of clutter to follow him back to his bedroom. The desk is already overflowing and he can see the nest of books and papers Dorian left behind to answer the door.
"Can you actually find things in all of this?" he teases.
no subject
"You're fit to talk," Dorian sniffs, "given the state of your quarters." But something seems off about that, even as he says it. Bull is always so neat and efficient when they travel, and he'd always kept their tent tidy. That his room should be so messy seems almost...
But that isn't so important, is it? Dorian opts to save that thought for another time in favor of coming right out and asking what he really wants to know, though far more casually than he actually feels.
"What's brought you all the way here? Has Cabot stopped serving so early?" He knows that's impossible, of course, but there has to be some reason. Some reason beyond the foolish hope quickly filling Dorian's chest despite himself; he wanted to see me. He's missed me.
no subject
His attention shifts back to Dorian when the mage asks the important question. Bull looks down at their hands as if he's considering his answer, but he already knows. A risk. A calculated risk.
"I wanted to see you," he admits quietly. He offers a small, wry smile. "Last night was-- lonely."
Bull knows he didn't have to take it quite that far, but Dorian deserves to know that much. He's here for Dorian, he's here because he wants to spend time with him, because he misses their quiet evenings together. Bull almost offers to leave, if Dorian is busy, but holds his tongue. He'll let Dorian answer, at least, before giving himself an out.
no subject
Bull feels the same. Or similarly enough.
It doesn't matter quite so much whether Bull has missed the sex and companionship, or Dorian himself. In this instance, they're similar. He says he'd wanted to see him. He'd come here seeking him, rather than taking one of his maids or serving boys to bed, as he so easily could have. That must mean something?
"I--" Where does he even begin to navigate this? If Bull has been so honest, then he can do the same, can't he? "I felt that way, too," he admits, still holding Bull's hands, warming them. "I only...didn't want to monopolize you, you see, when we've already spent so much time together. I thought that when we returned you might want to..." He pulls a hand away for just long enough to make a vague gesture. "There are plenty of other people to spend your time with. I wasn't sure that what you wanted while traveling would still hold true here."
no subject
"It's different," he says quietly.
He's fairly certain Dorian is referring to the people he took to bed with any kind of regularity before they left Skyhold. While he's on good terms with all of those people, he wouldn't exactly call them friends. They don't know him the way that Dorian does now, and they most likely never will. And, on the off chance that he did get close to any of them, the sex generally stopped after that. Dorian is the only person he hasn't followed that pattern with.
Bull doesn't know why.
He gives Dorian a warm smile. "Monopolize me, Dorian. I rather enjoy it."
no subject
That doesn't mean, however, that he understands what is going on. Bull says that it's different--but there is so much there that can't be understood without explanation. It's a risk to ask, but Bull had admitted it first. Dorian's voice is soft, incredulous.
"How is it different?"
no subject
"I like spending time with you. I don't want any of what we've been doing to stop, if you don't."
That's one of the few things that might make Bull back off: an explicit request from Dorian that he do so. Part of him knows it would make everything so much easier, but he doesn't... want that, and that is a strange feeling, too.
no subject
He's glad, of course, that Bull is happy to continue on the same trajectory. He squeezes his hands and smiles warmly up at him.
"I certainly don't want it to stop either," he assures. "I'm happy to be your friend, Bull. And sleeping together has been..." He laughs, feeling a bit bashful. "Well, I'm sure it's been quite obvious how much I've enjoyed it."
no subject
"Mmm, I come bearing gifts," he adds as he plucks up a bottle that's been hanging from his belt. A brandy that he's noticed Dorian likes. His gaze drifts to the blanket of books and papers. "What are you working on?"
no subject
They part, and Dorian laughs as he invites Bull further in. "I suppose you're allowed, as you come with brandy," he teases, and takes the bottle from Bull's hands to set it on top of the small dresser near his bed--a surface cluttered not by books or papers, but by his cosmetics. He begins to clear off the bed as well, making room for both of them to sit.
"At the moment? Genealogy of altus families," he says, with some humor. "Not a subject I ever thought I'd find myself studying in such detail, but here we are."
no subject
"Sounds fascinating," he says with a dry look. He knows the importance of the work, but pouring through genealogies, especially considering that Dorian had done quite a bit of work to get away from that sort of thing, sounds tedious. "Anything interesting yet? Awkward amounts of inbreeding?"
no subject
But that was something he'd already known, to some extent; everyone who understood the nature of their own family history (or had it drilled into them by strict nannies from a young age, as Dorian had) would already be aware of that much.
"You know, I can't pour us any brandy if I'm sitting in your lap," he points out, leaning close enough to kiss, but not quite closing that distance. "Unless you'd prefer to save it for later?"
no subject
"What, no drinking it straight from the bottle?" he teases. He relaxes his hold and gives Dorian's ass a gentle swat. "Let's at least try it. If you don't like it, I'll pawn it off on Varric."
no subject
"Actually, drinking straight from the bottle is our only option." He stands to retrieve it from the top of the dresser, handing it unopened to Bull before settling in his lap again, this time face to face with a thigh on either side of Bull's. "You first."
no subject
"Truly roughing it, I see," he teases gently. He has a good idea of what Dorian has been through since he left Tevinter, partly because the disappearance of an altus is something that goes noted. "I'll have to make off with some glasses for you."
no subject
He puts the lip of the bottle to his mouth as soon as the Bull hands it over, no hesitation, and drinks. The liquor is warm and remarkably smooth, the flavor strong without being overpowering. Not bad at all. He drinks deeply for another moment before making a noncommittal noise. "It will do," he declares.
At this point he thinks he should be safe in asking the question he most wants to now, but past experience makes him apprehensive and hesitant. For Bull's sake, however, he gathers the courage to wonder, "Would you like to stay here tonight?"
no subject
He hadn't planned to ask himself: he'd come this far, it was up to Dorian whether or not he stayed the night. He tips his head to kiss Dorian's jaw. His thumbs sweep across the mage's hips and Bull realizes that he's relieved to have that invitation. To know that he won't be sleeping alone tonight.
He pauses, then looks down at the bed. "Think we'll fit?"
no subject
"I'll have to sleep on top of you," Dorian jokes. "Or at least very close to your side." But he's rather used to that by now--laying his head on Bull's chest, a thick arm around his waist, drifting off pressed as close together as it's possible to be, skin to skin. "And I'm sure I have enough pillows for your head." Lacking Bull's own bolster, they'll have to pile a few up, but it should work just as well.
no subject
One thing Dorian hasn't had to worry about for the past three months is getting cold at night. Bull steals the bottle back to take another taste. He won't drink too much; he brought it for Dorian and it would take more than this to get him tipsy anyway.
"Learning anything interesting?" he asks as he relaxes back, shifting until he can lean against a wall.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)