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.
Despite more or less asking for it, Dorian gives a bereft sigh when Bull's hand leaves his cock. He still returns Bull's smile, feeling a rush of gratitude. How many men has he bedded who never truly cared what he wanted? To whom he was merely pretty and convenient? (He's more than that to Bull, surely?) "And you'll be sure to tell me what you want too, yes?" Dorian says, with a certainty that implies that it isn't a suggestion.
Bull's finger curls and strokes inside him, large enough to be significant--larger than two of Dorian's own, surely--but not so much that he's overwhelmed. It's remarkable, he thinks, that he could become used to this, but he has. Their position means that Bull isn't nearly close enough to kiss, as Dorian would prefer, but he can't have everything. "You can give me another," he says before long, eager to feel that distinct stretch. He's eager to feel Bull's cock most of all.
"I...don't mind if you hurry this part a bit," he admits almost sheepishly. What he wants more than anything is to watch the pleasure in Bull's face while he's inside him, to feel that connection bright and present between them.
Bull can't help the little smirk that plays across his mouth when Dorian admits he wouldn't mind the foreplay going a bit faster. "I thought we were going slow," he rumbles as he curls his finger just so, eye steady on Dorian's face as he does.
"Maybe that's what I want, too."
Now that he's got the idea in his head, he wants to follow it as far as Dorian will let him. He thinks he might need to get down on the floor to do as much as he wants, but he'll cross that bridge when he gets to it. For now, he keeps his place slow, easy, but focused. His free hand squeezes Dorian's thigh.
As if on cue--and it is, probably, given the deliberate way Bull's finger curls and the intent focus of his gaze--pleasure sears through Dorian's nerves, a flash of sensation as the wide pad of Bull's finger strokes directly over his prostate. He gives a sharp gasp, loud in the otherwise quiet room, only the sound of the crackling fire in the hearth to compete. He doesn't try to restrain himself, as much as that is his instinct. It had been his promise to Bull--and one he'd asked for in return. Bull wants to hear him, and he wants the same.
It makes him very happy, actually, to hear that Bull would rather a slower pace as well. There's something very affirming about that. Bull wants to take his time with him. There's no need to rush through this encounter, nowhere to slip away to after. It's just himself and the Bull, and a full night in his own bed together. The thought makes him both excited and apprehensive.
"I'll not deny you." He smiles and reaches down to cover the big hand closed over his thigh with one of his own. There's a part of him--quite a large one--that wants to feel Bull grip harder, to feel his fingers dig into the soft flesh and thick muscle of his thigh, to leave a darker imprint behind on his bronze skin.
"No. But you might beg me." Bull brushes his thumb over one of Dorian's fingers. He intends to leave marks tonight, but he isn't a hurry for that, either. He considers what he could do, how long he could draw this out. He slips his finger free and picks up the oil again. Bull's more liberal with it this time, strokes slowly over Dorian's cock.
He's learned a lot in the last few months, every little thing that makes Dorian gasp or sigh, everything that makes him jump and moan. He starts there, but every movement is slow, deliberate, and he watches every little reaction. Not just cataloging, but enjoying.
At some point he stops, strokes his palm over Dorian's cock as he spreads oil over his stomach, up to his chest. His touch slides down again and the other hand joins in. He grips Dorian's sides; the oil lets his touch glide rather than drag as he follows the line of Dorian's body to his spread thighs. It's almost a massage but not quite focused enough. He's teasing, he's just getting more of Dorian's body involved.
Dorian rather hopes that he is reduced to begging. "If you can make me," he smirks. And Bull certainly wastes no time in answering that challenge. He feels bereft, for a moment, when Bull's finger leaves him, but the ache of missing that feeling serves to temper the pleasure when he wraps an oiled hand back around his cock and begins teasing him.
It's Dorian's instinct to stifle the small noises he makes as Bull touches him, but with his request in mind, he allows himself to voice all of them. Soft gasps that are half words and sharper, louder sounds when Bull's fingers stroke him where he's most sensitive, these noises are drawn from him as Bull expertly plays his body in a way that only a frequent lover could. He's clearly been paying attention to what makes Dorian feel good, and that is nearly as arousing as the touch itself.
"Oh, Bull," he whimpers as he strays from his cock, oiled hands spanning his torso, making his skin gleam in the warm light of the fire. Bull's hands are rough beneath the slick feeling of the oil, brushing over his skin. He feels driven wild with that friction, cracked open wide.
For months, Dorian has endeavored to keep himself quiet - especially in tents or under open sky. Bull can't blame him, would never blame him, but hearing him now sends heat roiling through him. His expression is soft as Dorian whimpers and sighs, as he gasps and moan. Every so often, one hand makes a pointed stroke over Dorian's cock, as if to remind him that Bull hasn't forgotten about his pressing arousal.
"Just relax," he murmurs, almost like a warning. He pulls Dorian closer still, then guides his legs up until both of his ankles are resting on one of Bull's shoulders. He's careful, making sure that Dorian's shoulders and upper back are still on the bed. He wouldn't want blood rushing to his head. His hands sweep down along Dorian's legs; one slides over his cock, trapping it between Bull's palm and the warm, glistening skin of Dorian's stomach. The other hand disappears and soon his slick fingers are teasing, rubbing against his hole. He doesn't offer penetration, not yet. There's plenty he can do before that.
Just relax, Bull says, as though that's something Dorian is actually capable of controlling at this point. It is Bull that is pulling his strings, winding him up with strategic strokes and guiding him into positions that open him intimately to Bull's gaze and touch. He stretches languidly on the bed, reaching up above his head, fingers grasping at the pillows there.
It gets easier to voice his pleasure. He thinks less about it until he doesn't think at all, feeling safe and reassured by Bull's presence. Bull's hand covers his stomach, warm and heavy over his cock, and he makes a low, pleading noise when his slick fingers rub over his hole, hinting at what he wants without delivering.
"Yes," he doesn't quite beg, but this is what he craves. His voice is soft, rough with arousal. The way Bull has handled him already is so much--nearly enough. "I need you inside me, Bull."
Half in Bull's lap with his legs stretched over his shoulder, he has the absurd wish that they were closer.
Bull turns his head, trailing lazy kisses and lingering bites over Dorian's thigh. He's become exceedingly fond of leaving bruises, especially since Dorian seems to enjoy them so much.
"Mm, is that so?" He smiles against Dorian's thigh and bites him again as he finally lets one well-oiled finger slip into him. "Are you sure? I can draw this out longer."
Much longer. Hours. It's down to Dorian's patience now, and Bull tries not to smile as he works his finger slowly in and out, teasing Dorian with bare penetration before pushing it deeper. He doesn't immediately offer more.
Beneath his robes, Dorian's body is mottled with bruises these days, most in the shape of Bull's mouth or hands. Rarely does he heal them, choosing instead to enjoy the lingering ache they leave him with--a constant and erotic reminder of their trysts. Bull is always eager to mark him, and it feels to Dorian something like Bull staking a claim, an idea that makes his stomach twist pleasantly with a mix of arousal and longing.
Bull is smiling now as he bites more bruises into his thigh. Dorian gasps, the pain sharp and bright at first. The sensation goes straight to his cock, especially as Bull eases a finger back inside him at the same time. It's just one finger--one of Bull's, yes, but still--and yet it makes him desperate to feel a more intense stretch.
"I'm sure you can," Dorian agrees, strained. He does what he can to push back against that shallow penetration, but the position Bull has put him in offers him very little leverage. He's incredibly vulnerable like this, subject to Bull's whims--by design, he's certain. It feels good, but it isn't nearly enough to bring him off--just to keep him on edge, straining for something more. A frustrated noise slips out before he can control himself, and his fingers twist into the fabric of the pillows. "Don't you want to fuck me sometime tonight?" He asks, opting to try a different tactic. He's determined not to beg for it.
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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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Bull's finger curls and strokes inside him, large enough to be significant--larger than two of Dorian's own, surely--but not so much that he's overwhelmed. It's remarkable, he thinks, that he could become used to this, but he has. Their position means that Bull isn't nearly close enough to kiss, as Dorian would prefer, but he can't have everything. "You can give me another," he says before long, eager to feel that distinct stretch. He's eager to feel Bull's cock most of all.
"I...don't mind if you hurry this part a bit," he admits almost sheepishly. What he wants more than anything is to watch the pleasure in Bull's face while he's inside him, to feel that connection bright and present between them.
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"Maybe that's what I want, too."
Now that he's got the idea in his head, he wants to follow it as far as Dorian will let him. He thinks he might need to get down on the floor to do as much as he wants, but he'll cross that bridge when he gets to it. For now, he keeps his place slow, easy, but focused. His free hand squeezes Dorian's thigh.
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It makes him very happy, actually, to hear that Bull would rather a slower pace as well. There's something very affirming about that. Bull wants to take his time with him. There's no need to rush through this encounter, nowhere to slip away to after. It's just himself and the Bull, and a full night in his own bed together. The thought makes him both excited and apprehensive.
"I'll not deny you." He smiles and reaches down to cover the big hand closed over his thigh with one of his own. There's a part of him--quite a large one--that wants to feel Bull grip harder, to feel his fingers dig into the soft flesh and thick muscle of his thigh, to leave a darker imprint behind on his bronze skin.
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He's learned a lot in the last few months, every little thing that makes Dorian gasp or sigh, everything that makes him jump and moan. He starts there, but every movement is slow, deliberate, and he watches every little reaction. Not just cataloging, but enjoying.
At some point he stops, strokes his palm over Dorian's cock as he spreads oil over his stomach, up to his chest. His touch slides down again and the other hand joins in. He grips Dorian's sides; the oil lets his touch glide rather than drag as he follows the line of Dorian's body to his spread thighs. It's almost a massage but not quite focused enough. He's teasing, he's just getting more of Dorian's body involved.
When he says he can take his time, he means it.
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It's Dorian's instinct to stifle the small noises he makes as Bull touches him, but with his request in mind, he allows himself to voice all of them. Soft gasps that are half words and sharper, louder sounds when Bull's fingers stroke him where he's most sensitive, these noises are drawn from him as Bull expertly plays his body in a way that only a frequent lover could. He's clearly been paying attention to what makes Dorian feel good, and that is nearly as arousing as the touch itself.
"Oh, Bull," he whimpers as he strays from his cock, oiled hands spanning his torso, making his skin gleam in the warm light of the fire. Bull's hands are rough beneath the slick feeling of the oil, brushing over his skin. He feels driven wild with that friction, cracked open wide.
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"Just relax," he murmurs, almost like a warning. He pulls Dorian closer still, then guides his legs up until both of his ankles are resting on one of Bull's shoulders. He's careful, making sure that Dorian's shoulders and upper back are still on the bed. He wouldn't want blood rushing to his head. His hands sweep down along Dorian's legs; one slides over his cock, trapping it between Bull's palm and the warm, glistening skin of Dorian's stomach. The other hand disappears and soon his slick fingers are teasing, rubbing against his hole. He doesn't offer penetration, not yet. There's plenty he can do before that.
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It gets easier to voice his pleasure. He thinks less about it until he doesn't think at all, feeling safe and reassured by Bull's presence. Bull's hand covers his stomach, warm and heavy over his cock, and he makes a low, pleading noise when his slick fingers rub over his hole, hinting at what he wants without delivering.
"Yes," he doesn't quite beg, but this is what he craves. His voice is soft, rough with arousal. The way Bull has handled him already is so much--nearly enough. "I need you inside me, Bull."
Half in Bull's lap with his legs stretched over his shoulder, he has the absurd wish that they were closer.
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"Mm, is that so?" He smiles against Dorian's thigh and bites him again as he finally lets one well-oiled finger slip into him. "Are you sure? I can draw this out longer."
Much longer. Hours. It's down to Dorian's patience now, and Bull tries not to smile as he works his finger slowly in and out, teasing Dorian with bare penetration before pushing it deeper. He doesn't immediately offer more.
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Bull is smiling now as he bites more bruises into his thigh. Dorian gasps, the pain sharp and bright at first. The sensation goes straight to his cock, especially as Bull eases a finger back inside him at the same time. It's just one finger--one of Bull's, yes, but still--and yet it makes him desperate to feel a more intense stretch.
"I'm sure you can," Dorian agrees, strained. He does what he can to push back against that shallow penetration, but the position Bull has put him in offers him very little leverage. He's incredibly vulnerable like this, subject to Bull's whims--by design, he's certain. It feels good, but it isn't nearly enough to bring him off--just to keep him on edge, straining for something more. A frustrated noise slips out before he can control himself, and his fingers twist into the fabric of the pillows. "Don't you want to fuck me sometime tonight?" He asks, opting to try a different tactic. He's determined not to beg for it.
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