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.
"You have your uses," Dorian teases, "and while you're here, I intend to put you to use."
He raises his hands to Bull's horns, rubbing at them fondly near the base in a way he knows Bull to appreciate.
"Nothing that I particularly care to relate," he sighs. It's nice to settle here in the Bull's lap and talk, comfortable and content and happy that Bull still wants him this way. "Talking about work is so tiresome. I'd much rather here about what you got up to between yesterday and today. What Skyhold gossip have I missed? No doubt you heard it all at the Rest last night."
Bull relaxes as Dorian rubs his horns and he closes his eye for a moment.
"Mm. Vivienne made one of Fiona's mages cry, but it sounds like she had good reason. Cassandra's been spotted reading a very unseemly book. Rumors about you and I made it back before we did."
He opens his eye and strokes his thumb along Dorian's thigh. Bull knew it was a very real possibility but he isn't particularly pleased, if only for Dorian's sake. Bull can handle rumors; most people are too afraid to bring them up to his face.
He hadn't expected any differently, but here it is confirmed--that half of Skyhold must know about them already, and the rest will soon. He'd certainly prefer it wasn't so, but he has little power to dissuade anyone from talking about such a riveting subject (apparently) as his bedroom activities. There's been gossip about that for nearly half his life.
He isn't ashamed of being with the Bull, but he does firmly believe in being granted privacy about personal matters, especially when so much of his life has been subject to public ridicule. It would be nice to have something that's just for him. For them. He sighs, thumb tracing slowly over a groove in Bull's horn.
"None of which surprises me," he says wearily. At least he doesn't have to worry about any misinformation that may arise about the nature of their relationship; if their spat that morning in the Exalted Plains was any indication, Bull doesn't much care if anyone thinks they are romantically involved. People can have what opinions they like, he supposes. "I suppose I'll join you tomorrow night and lend those rumors some credence."
Bull strokes his fingers down Dorian's back. "I can see some of the rumors put down," he offers quietly. There's only so much he can do to stifle the gossip, but he could certainly do more than he has. Part of him feels guilty that Dorian has become an object of further conversation because of him and his interest. But-- Dorian could have pulled away at any time. Could have spent the last three months sleeping in his own tent. It isn't his fault, but he certainly didn't avoid associating with Bull, either.
He gives a small, soft smile when Dorian talks about joining him tomorrow. Bull slides a hand up to the back of Dorian's neck and guides him into a kiss.
"I'll resist the urge to toss you over my shoulder at the end of the night."
"It's fine, Bull. I can live with it," he assures, and leans into his touch, and then the press of his lips. Melting into his arms is so easy. It's remarkable how simple it has become to allow this sort of affection, when months ago Dorian had balked at the idea, nervous and unfamiliar. Bull has given him so many things he'd only dreamed of having all his years in Tevinter, and he's incredibly grateful. If the price is that everyone in southern Thedas should know he's fucking a Qunari, then so be it. He is, and quite happily so.
Playfully, he firms his grip on Bull's horns. It's still somewhat thrilling to touch them so boldly, no matter how long he's spent rubbing balm into them over the last few months. But he knows how much Bull likes it, so he doesn't hesitate.
"If you can at least resist until we're alone," he flirts, "you may toss me wherever you'd like." And now that they have actual walls again, rather than sleeping in a tent every night...well. That gives him a few ideas.
Bull slides his hands down Dorian's back and pulls him closer as the mage's hands grip his horns. He can vaguely feel the weight and pressure and he does like it. He likes it more when Dorian flirts with him.
"Oh?" he prompts, catching the promising look in Dorian's eyes. He shifts his weight carefully, making sure not to upset Dorian's seat. His hands drift lower, over Dorian's thighs as he keeps his gaze on the mage's face.
"What else?" he adds, his voice a low rumble. "When we're alone?"
Bull shifting beneath him is promising, the hands settling over his thighs even more so. Dorian's hands drift gradually from his horns, fingers tracing down over the Bull's face, tracing softly and affectionately over his scars until they settle at his jaw, directing the tilt of his head so that Dorian can lean in and kiss him soundly.
It would make him strangely happy, he thinks, to have sex here in his own room, in his own bed. That isn't a luxury he's been afforded many times in his life.
"I want you to pick me up," he confesses softly after the kiss breaks--something Bull certainly knows about him already. "I want you to carry me, hold me. I want to feel your strength."
Bull pulls lightly at the fabric covering Dorian's legs. He slides one hand down the back of his sleep pants as Dorian murmurs between kisses. "Done," he says lightly, his eye bright. "Next time we're in my room. Your furniture looks more-- breakable."
And Bull doesn't have much in the way of furniture at all. That's fine. That's what walls are for. One big hand covers Dorian's ass as he pulls the mage's hips against his. He's mildly concerned about Dorian's bed, but if they could manage at inns, he's pretty sure a bed found in Skyhold will be sturdy enough.
He tips his head, trailing biting kisses down Dorian's neck, leaving little red marks in his wake. He smells so good and Bull growls quietly against his warm skin.
Dorian nods in agreement, feeling his heart speed up at the mere prospect of having his somewhat embarrassing desire fulfilled. Bull didn't hesitate for a moment in agreeing; he probably doesn't see anything embarrassing about it, thankfully. That's only Dorian, and certain preconceptions he can't quite shake. But Bull has never once judged him for his preferences, or made him feel ridiculous for wanting or asking for something. It's yet another thing that Dorian appreciates about him.
A hand slides beneath his pants and settles over his ass as Bull drags him flush against him. Dorian makes a soft, encouraging noise which turns into a louder gasp as Bull's mouth moves down along his neck, nipping and sucking at his skin, raising marks. He's reminded of just how very sensitive he is there when his cock begins responding almost immediately. Warmth spreads through Dorian's body; he feels that growl down to his toes.
"Bull," he murmurs, encouraging and already a little breathless. "Tell me something you'd like," he requests. Bull is always so good to him--always gives him precisely what he wants. He'd love to do the same in return. "Something you've wanted to do together."
Bull smiles against Dorian's skin. A few thoughts filter through his mind, things he doesn't think he can quite ask Dorian for. He isn't used to people really asking him what he wants.
He gives Dorian another lazy bite.
"I want to hear what you sound like when you aren't holding back," he rumbles quietly, letting Dorian feel his voice as much as hear it. "We have stone walls for the first time in months."
But he has a feeling that answer won't quite satisfy Dorian. It's an easy thing to give. Bull lifts his head and strokes his fingers along the line of Dorian's jaw. He measures what he says next, weighs it against what he knows about Dorian and, yes, what he can do for Dorian.
"Give yourself over to me completely for one night, sometime soon. Let me take control for both of us. Trust me."
He knows that Dorian trusts him, otherwise he wouldn't be here. But Bull can do more for him and he knows it, can see what the mage needs - things he would never ask for, things he wouldn't ever know to ask for. It isn't a small thing he requests and Bull isn't entirely prepared to act on it now even if Dorian gives permission. But that is what he wants.
As the Bull's teeth scrape his neck again, Dorian shudders. Bull's initial request is not quite as simple for Dorian to grant as he might imagine. After a lifetime spent restricting and downplaying his expressions of pleasure--whether due to the risk of discovery or out of concern for what his partner might think of him if he let go entirely--it isn't so easy for Dorian to allow himself to freely voice what he's feeling. But Bull has never made him feel embarrassed, and has already expressed that he doesn't care in the least if they're discovered. For him, Dorian wants to. He wants to give him that satisfaction.
"I'll let you hear my voice," Dorian agrees, "if I can hear yours as well." He can't help asking for the same in return; the noises Bull makes during sex are deeply arousing, from low growling to guttural groans to words murmured in his wonderful resonating baritone. Dorian wants to hear what Bull sounds like when he's enjoying himself entirely without restriction.
It's his second request, however, that has Dorian's breath catching. He can only partially envision what giving himself over to the Bull entirely for a night might entail, but imagines it would be immensely satisfying. If only it were simply a matter of trust. "I trust you, Bull," he says softly, but without hesitation. He wouldn't have been able to do half of what they've done together if he didn't. His thumbs stroke over Bull's cheeks before he draws him into another kiss, brief but affectionate, before he continues.
"Giving up control completely, however...I'm not entirely certain that I can." Retaining some power in sexual situations is almost a matter of self-preservation. Yet with Bull, it is a deeply appealing idea; one he's fantasized about, even, more than once. He shifts forward in his lap, fingers trailing down the thick muscles of his neck to rest on his broad shoulders. "But I'd very much like to try."
Bull caresses Dorian's throat after another tender kiss. "You won't give it up entirely," he points out softly. "You will always have katoh, Dorian."
The watchword that will bring a stop to everything, anything, that Bull is doing to check in with Dorian, to make sure he's alright, to give him comfort. Bull kisses him again and pulls their bodies tighter together.
"You will choose the night. You will tell me when and where."
Bull slides his hands beneath Dorian's loose tunic. He will give the mage all control until the moment that he hands it over, and after that, Bull will take care of him as best he knows how. He nuzzles Dorian's neck and gently bites his shoulder.
"But tonight," he adds, grinning against Dorian's skin, "it's just you, me, and this bed."
"All right," he agrees quietly, squeezing Bull's shoulders. He could hardly forget the watchword, at this point, and the circumstances are agreeable, and he wants this. It's simply a matter of overcoming his own insecurities for long enough to let himself have it.
For tonight, however, he has a very pleasant distraction. Bull's hands are rough on the bare skin of his torso, and Dorian is certain that he'll have marks up and down his neck and shoulders from Bull's attentions. He can't bring himself to care. He wants those marks; the pressure and the sting, the evidence of Bull's desire on his body. He's growing gradually hard from that alone.
"Do your worst," he challenges, returning Bull's grin with one of his own, even if he can't see it with the way he's nuzzling against him. "If I don't wake up hoarse tomorrow morning, I shall be very disappointed." And this time as he shifts his hips he grinds deliberately down against Bull beneath him, fingers trailing down from his shoulders to explore the expanse of his chest, thick with muscle. He traces the now familiar shape of scars and pinches none too gently at each dark nipple as he leans close to nip playfully at Bull's lower lip before drawing him into another kiss.
Bull's breath catches when Dorian gives him a wicked pinch and he yanks the mage into a kiss before letting him answer. Whatever they do, he wants that close at hand so that he doesn't need to stop whatever they're in the middle of to find it. Then he grins and butts his brow against Dorian's.
"My worst? I'd feel bad if we destroyed all your furniture," he rumbles as he rocks his hips up, letting Dorian feel how aroused he is. He gives Dorian's thigh a smack and urges him up. Bull wants to get undressed - he wants to peel Dorian out of his tunic and trousers. He's thrilled that the mage is wearing so little. When he's on his feet again, Bull catches Dorian and pulls him close, aware that he asked him to find oil but he's distracted by the promise of touching him again.
He'd been thinking about him all through last night.
"Do I have oil?" Dorian repeats, bemused, as his freshly kissed lips draw into a smirk. He bites the lower one as Bull grinds up against him in return, and Maker, that cock is impressive even through the layers of clothing that separate them. It's incredible that Bull is so hard already, when they've done little but talk and kiss--though his neck is already savaged. He adores how much pleasure the Bull derives from marking him. He wonders, not for the first time, whether it would even be possible for him to mark Bull similarly in return.
"I'm a little concerned for the bed as it is," Dorian says with amusement. "I suppose if it breaks, I'll just have to use yours." It's a jest, but the implications only catch up to Dorian after he says it. Embarrassing, but he hopes Bull understands that he wasn't necessarily...implying anything. Not like that.
Thankfully a smack to his thigh is distracting enough to put those thoughts from his mind. "Beast!" He exclaims, and most of his indignation is entirely fabricated. He rises anyway, as there's little else he can do when Bull decides to get up. He makes to find his oil, which he keeps innocuously atop his dresser among other glass bottles of cosmetics, but Bull tugs him close again before he can move very far. Strong, thick arms wrap around him, and Dorian couldn't possibly be annoyed about being waylaid. Not when he's apparently so distracting to Bull that he can barely stand not to touch him.
"It's the tall green-tinted bottle up there with the circular end," he describes, gesturing with one hand toward the dresser. "You can get it yourself, as it doesn't seem I'll be making it that far."
"I wouldn't be disappointed," he says in answer to Dorian spending more time in his bed. He chuckles when he's scolded, but the mage's tone soon shifts and all Bull wants to do is have him. The sudden rush is quietly overwhelming: Bull hadn't expected to feel so swept up.
Bull lifts his head to catch sight of the bottle Dorian references. With a quiet hum and manages to pluck it from the dresser without letting go of the mage. He's impressively careful as he sets it on Dorian's pillow; then his attention narrows to the man in his arms. The shirt is the first to go, pulled off over Dorian's head with little ceremony.
"You won't be making it far at all," he rumbles quietly, heavy with promise.
It might become obvious then that Bull had taken off his brace before coming here, because all he needs to do is nudge out of his boots to get them off.
It's funny, really, how careful Bull is with the bottle of oil, and then how he practically rips his tunic off in the moment following. Dorian laughs, feeling light and happy and desired. Barefoot himself, Dorian only needs to slide his loose pants and his smalls down to leave himself bare as Bull still works at his boots.
Released for the moment, Dorian settles naked at the edge of his bed, perching there with poise, all warm, smooth bronze skin in the candlelight as he watches Bull undress. The bed is really too small for them both; even for Bull alone, really. Hopefully it won't actually break under the strain of fucking and then sleeping on it.
Is it strange that he's missed the Bull after barely more than a day? Probably, but at least the Bull seems to feel similarly enough that it's permissible. It makes something in Dorian's chest flutter and tighten, and as soon as Bull is comfortably undressed as well, he reaches for him.
"Come here," he urges. He's hard, but there isn't any real rush beyond an overwhelming desire to feel Bull's bare skin against his own. "Don't make me wait any longer."
Once he finishes undressing, Bull moves with impressive speed to gather Dorian up and then pin him down. He leans over the mage and gives him a sound kiss, intoxicated by the slide of Dorian's skin against his. He's mindful of the bed; if worst comes, there are plenty of walls... and a desk. He sighs as he tips his head, chasing Dorian's scent to his neck.
"How angry will you be if we break your bed?" he rumbles, mostly teasing as his hands slide over Dorian's sides like he's trying to re-familiarize himself with every part of the mage. As if they've been apart more than one night. Bull bites down on Dorian's shoulder, intent on making good on his promises.
Almost before he can process the change, Dorian finds himself on his back in the Bull's hold, pinned down against the bed with his wide, warm, heavy body pressed over him, against him, between his legs. He presses back against Bull, but can't budge him in the least, and moans into their kiss at the thrilling helplessness of his position. Bull's mouth wanders and Dorian reacts beneath him, squirming, shifting his hips to slot Bull's cock into the groove between his thigh and torso. His own is trapped between his stomach and the delightfully soft curve of the Bull's belly, which feels wonderful to rut against.
The Bull's hands are huge; they cover his sides almost entirely with the span of his fingers and palms, and he gives a choked off gasp as he scrapes his teeth over his shoulder--one of his favorite spots, apparently, as it's a bruise that never seems to fully heal before Bull deepens it again. Dorian catches his breath on a low laugh. "That depends on how we break it." He probably shouldn't be making challenges like that. He really would prefer his bed intact.
"You'd think we hadn't seen each other in weeks," he notes in a way that's meant to be teasing, but comes out sounding mostly fond. His hands rest against Bull's chest, clutching him close.
For a moment, Bull's lost in how good it feels to have Dorian beneath him again. He huffs a laugh and flashes a wolfish smile.
"It was a long, long night," he rumbles as Dorian's hands slide over his chest. He carefully shifts his weight, making sure that he won't lose his balance or fall off the bed. He isn't overly worried: the last time he broke any piece of furniture, he'd let his weight drop on it rather heavily. This is different, and the beds in Skyhold are sturdy.
He strokes his calloused fingers along Dorian's neck, then catches his chin to hold him still for a kiss. When he lets go, he finds the lubricant and eases back enough to let Dorian breathe. For now. "Mm, come here."
Bull catches Dorian's thighs and drags him closer, rather enjoying the view he has. He applies some of the oil and his free hand slides over Dorian's cock as he eases the first finger in.
Dorian loves how Bull touches him. He's confident, certain, and appreciative, with an edge of roughness that Dorian is deeply weak to. He sighs happily against Bull's mouth as they kiss, parting his lips to deepen it. Bull's fingers grasp his chin firmly, and he can't help but agree; it had been a long night. And he'd been prepared to suffer through another before Bull sought him out. It feels good in a way he's certain he's never felt before, to be wanted so much that a single night apart was too much to bear.
He's smiling when Bull pulls back, looks up at him bright-eyed and coy as Bull pulls him closer without effort. Maker, that strength. He's tugged half onto Bull's lap by a hard grip on his thighs, forced to spread his legs wide, which he does without hesitation. He has no qualms about giving the Bull unfettered access to his body.
Bull wastes no time in pressing a slicked finger into him, and Dorian swears in Tevene under his breath, shifting his hips deliberately to press back against Bull's touch. Their first night together--here at Skyhold, those months ago--he'd hardly been able to believe the size of just one of the Bull's fingers. It's still remarkable, and with Bull's other hand closing in a warm fist around his cock, he can't help moaning outright, arousal mounting quickly from a pleasant warmth suffusing his limbs to a more concentrated heat in the pit of his stomach.
"My," he drawls, voice low and honeyed, "someone's eager." It's good--it's very good. He wants to do this for hours, just lay here feeling warm and desired under the Bull, looking up and meeting his eye, finding him with that exact fond look on his face that makes Dorian's heart fill to bursting. "Let's take our time tonight," he says, a little softer, allowing himself the relative vulnerability of a direct request. "I want to enjoy you fully."
Bull tips his head, good eye bright in the candlelight. "Like you weren't," he rumbles in response. The weight of the request - of what it costs Dorian to give it - settles on his broad shoulders. "As slow as you want," he agrees.
He abandons Dorian's cock with a final, slow stroke, and he adjusts his weight just slightly. He doesn't want his leg falling asleep. Bull's hand strokes over Dorian's thigh; he doesn't withdraw from the mage but he's slow in the way he teases him, slow, stroking thrusts of his finger.
"Just tell me if you change your mind," he adds with a small, warm smile. He doesn't want Dorian to think he has to live with something he's asked for if he changes his mind later.
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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?"
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"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.
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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.
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He raises his hands to Bull's horns, rubbing at them fondly near the base in a way he knows Bull to appreciate.
"Nothing that I particularly care to relate," he sighs. It's nice to settle here in the Bull's lap and talk, comfortable and content and happy that Bull still wants him this way. "Talking about work is so tiresome. I'd much rather here about what you got up to between yesterday and today. What Skyhold gossip have I missed? No doubt you heard it all at the Rest last night."
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"Mm. Vivienne made one of Fiona's mages cry, but it sounds like she had good reason. Cassandra's been spotted reading a very unseemly book. Rumors about you and I made it back before we did."
He opens his eye and strokes his thumb along Dorian's thigh. Bull knew it was a very real possibility but he isn't particularly pleased, if only for Dorian's sake. Bull can handle rumors; most people are too afraid to bring them up to his face.
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He isn't ashamed of being with the Bull, but he does firmly believe in being granted privacy about personal matters, especially when so much of his life has been subject to public ridicule. It would be nice to have something that's just for him. For them. He sighs, thumb tracing slowly over a groove in Bull's horn.
"None of which surprises me," he says wearily. At least he doesn't have to worry about any misinformation that may arise about the nature of their relationship; if their spat that morning in the Exalted Plains was any indication, Bull doesn't much care if anyone thinks they are romantically involved. People can have what opinions they like, he supposes. "I suppose I'll join you tomorrow night and lend those rumors some credence."
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He gives a small, soft smile when Dorian talks about joining him tomorrow. Bull slides a hand up to the back of Dorian's neck and guides him into a kiss.
"I'll resist the urge to toss you over my shoulder at the end of the night."
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Playfully, he firms his grip on Bull's horns. It's still somewhat thrilling to touch them so boldly, no matter how long he's spent rubbing balm into them over the last few months. But he knows how much Bull likes it, so he doesn't hesitate.
"If you can at least resist until we're alone," he flirts, "you may toss me wherever you'd like." And now that they have actual walls again, rather than sleeping in a tent every night...well. That gives him a few ideas.
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"Oh?" he prompts, catching the promising look in Dorian's eyes. He shifts his weight carefully, making sure not to upset Dorian's seat. His hands drift lower, over Dorian's thighs as he keeps his gaze on the mage's face.
"What else?" he adds, his voice a low rumble. "When we're alone?"
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It would make him strangely happy, he thinks, to have sex here in his own room, in his own bed. That isn't a luxury he's been afforded many times in his life.
"I want you to pick me up," he confesses softly after the kiss breaks--something Bull certainly knows about him already. "I want you to carry me, hold me. I want to feel your strength."
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And Bull doesn't have much in the way of furniture at all. That's fine. That's what walls are for. One big hand covers Dorian's ass as he pulls the mage's hips against his. He's mildly concerned about Dorian's bed, but if they could manage at inns, he's pretty sure a bed found in Skyhold will be sturdy enough.
He tips his head, trailing biting kisses down Dorian's neck, leaving little red marks in his wake. He smells so good and Bull growls quietly against his warm skin.
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A hand slides beneath his pants and settles over his ass as Bull drags him flush against him. Dorian makes a soft, encouraging noise which turns into a louder gasp as Bull's mouth moves down along his neck, nipping and sucking at his skin, raising marks. He's reminded of just how very sensitive he is there when his cock begins responding almost immediately. Warmth spreads through Dorian's body; he feels that growl down to his toes.
"Bull," he murmurs, encouraging and already a little breathless. "Tell me something you'd like," he requests. Bull is always so good to him--always gives him precisely what he wants. He'd love to do the same in return. "Something you've wanted to do together."
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He gives Dorian another lazy bite.
"I want to hear what you sound like when you aren't holding back," he rumbles quietly, letting Dorian feel his voice as much as hear it. "We have stone walls for the first time in months."
But he has a feeling that answer won't quite satisfy Dorian. It's an easy thing to give. Bull lifts his head and strokes his fingers along the line of Dorian's jaw. He measures what he says next, weighs it against what he knows about Dorian and, yes, what he can do for Dorian.
"Give yourself over to me completely for one night, sometime soon. Let me take control for both of us. Trust me."
He knows that Dorian trusts him, otherwise he wouldn't be here. But Bull can do more for him and he knows it, can see what the mage needs - things he would never ask for, things he wouldn't ever know to ask for. It isn't a small thing he requests and Bull isn't entirely prepared to act on it now even if Dorian gives permission. But that is what he wants.
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"I'll let you hear my voice," Dorian agrees, "if I can hear yours as well." He can't help asking for the same in return; the noises Bull makes during sex are deeply arousing, from low growling to guttural groans to words murmured in his wonderful resonating baritone. Dorian wants to hear what Bull sounds like when he's enjoying himself entirely without restriction.
It's his second request, however, that has Dorian's breath catching. He can only partially envision what giving himself over to the Bull entirely for a night might entail, but imagines it would be immensely satisfying. If only it were simply a matter of trust. "I trust you, Bull," he says softly, but without hesitation. He wouldn't have been able to do half of what they've done together if he didn't. His thumbs stroke over Bull's cheeks before he draws him into another kiss, brief but affectionate, before he continues.
"Giving up control completely, however...I'm not entirely certain that I can." Retaining some power in sexual situations is almost a matter of self-preservation. Yet with Bull, it is a deeply appealing idea; one he's fantasized about, even, more than once. He shifts forward in his lap, fingers trailing down the thick muscles of his neck to rest on his broad shoulders. "But I'd very much like to try."
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The watchword that will bring a stop to everything, anything, that Bull is doing to check in with Dorian, to make sure he's alright, to give him comfort. Bull kisses him again and pulls their bodies tighter together.
"You will choose the night. You will tell me when and where."
Bull slides his hands beneath Dorian's loose tunic. He will give the mage all control until the moment that he hands it over, and after that, Bull will take care of him as best he knows how. He nuzzles Dorian's neck and gently bites his shoulder.
"But tonight," he adds, grinning against Dorian's skin, "it's just you, me, and this bed."
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For tonight, however, he has a very pleasant distraction. Bull's hands are rough on the bare skin of his torso, and Dorian is certain that he'll have marks up and down his neck and shoulders from Bull's attentions. He can't bring himself to care. He wants those marks; the pressure and the sting, the evidence of Bull's desire on his body. He's growing gradually hard from that alone.
"Do your worst," he challenges, returning Bull's grin with one of his own, even if he can't see it with the way he's nuzzling against him. "If I don't wake up hoarse tomorrow morning, I shall be very disappointed." And this time as he shifts his hips he grinds deliberately down against Bull beneath him, fingers trailing down from his shoulders to explore the expanse of his chest, thick with muscle. He traces the now familiar shape of scars and pinches none too gently at each dark nipple as he leans close to nip playfully at Bull's lower lip before drawing him into another kiss.
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Bull's breath catches when Dorian gives him a wicked pinch and he yanks the mage into a kiss before letting him answer. Whatever they do, he wants that close at hand so that he doesn't need to stop whatever they're in the middle of to find it. Then he grins and butts his brow against Dorian's.
"My worst? I'd feel bad if we destroyed all your furniture," he rumbles as he rocks his hips up, letting Dorian feel how aroused he is. He gives Dorian's thigh a smack and urges him up. Bull wants to get undressed - he wants to peel Dorian out of his tunic and trousers. He's thrilled that the mage is wearing so little. When he's on his feet again, Bull catches Dorian and pulls him close, aware that he asked him to find oil but he's distracted by the promise of touching him again.
He'd been thinking about him all through last night.
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"I'm a little concerned for the bed as it is," Dorian says with amusement. "I suppose if it breaks, I'll just have to use yours." It's a jest, but the implications only catch up to Dorian after he says it. Embarrassing, but he hopes Bull understands that he wasn't necessarily...implying anything. Not like that.
Thankfully a smack to his thigh is distracting enough to put those thoughts from his mind. "Beast!" He exclaims, and most of his indignation is entirely fabricated. He rises anyway, as there's little else he can do when Bull decides to get up. He makes to find his oil, which he keeps innocuously atop his dresser among other glass bottles of cosmetics, but Bull tugs him close again before he can move very far. Strong, thick arms wrap around him, and Dorian couldn't possibly be annoyed about being waylaid. Not when he's apparently so distracting to Bull that he can barely stand not to touch him.
"It's the tall green-tinted bottle up there with the circular end," he describes, gesturing with one hand toward the dresser. "You can get it yourself, as it doesn't seem I'll be making it that far."
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Bull lifts his head to catch sight of the bottle Dorian references. With a quiet hum and manages to pluck it from the dresser without letting go of the mage. He's impressively careful as he sets it on Dorian's pillow; then his attention narrows to the man in his arms. The shirt is the first to go, pulled off over Dorian's head with little ceremony.
"You won't be making it far at all," he rumbles quietly, heavy with promise.
It might become obvious then that Bull had taken off his brace before coming here, because all he needs to do is nudge out of his boots to get them off.
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Released for the moment, Dorian settles naked at the edge of his bed, perching there with poise, all warm, smooth bronze skin in the candlelight as he watches Bull undress. The bed is really too small for them both; even for Bull alone, really. Hopefully it won't actually break under the strain of fucking and then sleeping on it.
Is it strange that he's missed the Bull after barely more than a day? Probably, but at least the Bull seems to feel similarly enough that it's permissible. It makes something in Dorian's chest flutter and tighten, and as soon as Bull is comfortably undressed as well, he reaches for him.
"Come here," he urges. He's hard, but there isn't any real rush beyond an overwhelming desire to feel Bull's bare skin against his own. "Don't make me wait any longer."
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"How angry will you be if we break your bed?" he rumbles, mostly teasing as his hands slide over Dorian's sides like he's trying to re-familiarize himself with every part of the mage. As if they've been apart more than one night. Bull bites down on Dorian's shoulder, intent on making good on his promises.
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The Bull's hands are huge; they cover his sides almost entirely with the span of his fingers and palms, and he gives a choked off gasp as he scrapes his teeth over his shoulder--one of his favorite spots, apparently, as it's a bruise that never seems to fully heal before Bull deepens it again. Dorian catches his breath on a low laugh. "That depends on how we break it." He probably shouldn't be making challenges like that. He really would prefer his bed intact.
"You'd think we hadn't seen each other in weeks," he notes in a way that's meant to be teasing, but comes out sounding mostly fond. His hands rest against Bull's chest, clutching him close.
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"It was a long, long night," he rumbles as Dorian's hands slide over his chest. He carefully shifts his weight, making sure that he won't lose his balance or fall off the bed. He isn't overly worried: the last time he broke any piece of furniture, he'd let his weight drop on it rather heavily. This is different, and the beds in Skyhold are sturdy.
He strokes his calloused fingers along Dorian's neck, then catches his chin to hold him still for a kiss. When he lets go, he finds the lubricant and eases back enough to let Dorian breathe. For now. "Mm, come here."
Bull catches Dorian's thighs and drags him closer, rather enjoying the view he has. He applies some of the oil and his free hand slides over Dorian's cock as he eases the first finger in.
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He's smiling when Bull pulls back, looks up at him bright-eyed and coy as Bull pulls him closer without effort. Maker, that strength. He's tugged half onto Bull's lap by a hard grip on his thighs, forced to spread his legs wide, which he does without hesitation. He has no qualms about giving the Bull unfettered access to his body.
Bull wastes no time in pressing a slicked finger into him, and Dorian swears in Tevene under his breath, shifting his hips deliberately to press back against Bull's touch. Their first night together--here at Skyhold, those months ago--he'd hardly been able to believe the size of just one of the Bull's fingers. It's still remarkable, and with Bull's other hand closing in a warm fist around his cock, he can't help moaning outright, arousal mounting quickly from a pleasant warmth suffusing his limbs to a more concentrated heat in the pit of his stomach.
"My," he drawls, voice low and honeyed, "someone's eager." It's good--it's very good. He wants to do this for hours, just lay here feeling warm and desired under the Bull, looking up and meeting his eye, finding him with that exact fond look on his face that makes Dorian's heart fill to bursting. "Let's take our time tonight," he says, a little softer, allowing himself the relative vulnerability of a direct request. "I want to enjoy you fully."
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He abandons Dorian's cock with a final, slow stroke, and he adjusts his weight just slightly. He doesn't want his leg falling asleep. Bull's hand strokes over Dorian's thigh; he doesn't withdraw from the mage but he's slow in the way he teases him, slow, stroking thrusts of his finger.
"Just tell me if you change your mind," he adds with a small, warm smile. He doesn't want Dorian to think he has to live with something he's asked for if he changes his mind later.
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