Clearly, that is not the answer Dorian was after. He exhales sharply, thighs tensing as he tries to adjust the angle of penetration himself--only to have Bull withdraw his finger entirely.
"Oh, kaffas--you are such a frustrating man!" Dorian exclaims, half complaint and half accusation. Nonetheless, his cock twitches against his stomach as it dribbles precum onto his skin, and his hole is stretched soft and slick with oil as the pads of Bull's fingers tease against it.
A flush has risen high in Dorian's cheeks, a heat that has suffused throughout his body. He feels hypersensitive, every touch magnified as he anticipates being handled with more intent. But Bull doesn't seem to care much about bringing him off at the moment, or even about preparing him. He seems, at the moment, to be simply playing, mining his body for reactions, bringing him pleasure without particular intent. And as beside himself with it as Dorian is, as desperate as he is for something more substantial, he doesn't hate it. Far from it. Even now, he recognizes somewhere in the back of his mind that when Bull is good and ready to give him satisfaction--and he will, eventually--it will be all the more gratifying for having been earned.
And here he'd thought, before they'd ever coupled, that Bull would simply pin him down and rut him into the mattress for a round or two, and that would be that. While that has happened, and been very enjoyable, Dorian has realized now for some time that his assumptions in that regard had been based purely on stereotype. In truth, he has never known a lover before who had the Bull's patience, attentiveness, and creativity.
A cat with a toy; Bull will end Dorian's suffering when he's good and ready. He likes that Dorian is practically twitching beneath every touch, seeking more and shying from it on the off chance that it becomes too much.
He draws it out a while longer, offering Dorian brief glimpses of relief with a tongue teasing over his cock or fingers penetrating again, but never as much as Dorian wants. Bull waits until he can feel Dorian trembling.
"Hey," he whispers as he lays Dorian down, lets him relax as much as he canwith his thighs still on either side of Bull. He leans close, bracing himself above Dorian as he finally gives him something substantial. Two fingers push in, push deep. "Still with me?"
Bull gives him no respite. He taunts and teases in a way that Dorian's certain only he could, driving him into an embarrassingly desperate state until he's little more than a quivering, moaning mess, achingly hard and overstimulated but nowhere near an orgasm. While he thrashes and whimpers and curses, it's a thoroughly enjoyable sort of torture.
By the time Bull sees fit to lay him down, there's precum pooling copiously on his belly, and the most sensitive parts of his body feel raw and worked over, though Bull has hardly given them much attention at all. His nipples are peaked and sore, his cock blood-dark and aching, lips bitten red and swollen by scraping teeth, his limbs shake, and his flushed bronze skin prickles with the anticipation of touch.
As such, it's no surprise that the cry he emits when two of Bull's thick fingers press satisfyingly deep inside him for the first time tonight is loud and wanton, a sound of surprise and pleasure that echoes off the stone walls of Dorian's small firelit room. His gaze is a little hazy when he meets Bull's eye, plump lips parting on a shaky inhale. His legs are already spread obscenely wide around Bull's hips, and he'd spread them further if it meant getting more of those wonderfully big fingers where he needs them most. It feels disproportionately good after all of that teasing; so much so that a little finger fucking and rubbing in the right places stands to bring him to the edge incredibly quickly. His cock leaks promisingly against his stomach.
"If you're intending to drive me mad, you've made a fine start," is his tart response, clipped, but half pleading. "Maker," he breathes more quietly, "I'll come on just your fingers."
"Just a start?" Bull teases as he carefully works a third in. He's been teasing Dorian this long, it isn't as difficult as it was the first time, or even if they've been abstaining for a while. The soft plea hiding behind the otherwise clipped answer sends heat sinking through him.
"Do you want to?" he asks when Dorian confesses that he could come just like this. Bull isn't inclined to stop him, but he also knows how Dorian feels about having his cock. "Or can you hold out until I'm inside you?"
Regardless of the answer, Bull isn't going to rush his preparation. He never does; he can't. The one exception in recent history has been with Dorian, on the days or nights when they managed more than once in relatively short order. The first night they were together, the third round was easy in that sense.
"Oh," Dorian gasps, soft and sweet, as Bull presses a third finger into him. The stretch and fullness that comes with it is exactly what he wants--finally, a substantial enough touch to bring him real, lasting pleasure, to overcome him in the way that he needs.
But Bull's question deserves some serious consideration. Or as much as he can give it, at the moment. He squirms, moans softly. What a choice. He's been toyed with for so long that he aches, and release seems finally achievable--and so near. But if he's only able to hold on for a little longer, he can come with Bull's cock inside him, which is always the most satisfying end.
Dorian breathes out slowly, unsteadily. A frustrated sigh. "I want you inside me," he confesses, difficult as it is to convince himself to wait when he's already been waiting so long. He isn't even entirely certain that he can hold out. But he wants to. Even more than pleasure it brings, he needs that connection, that closeness. "Soon, Bull, please." Finally, that word. He's refused to say it all this time.
"Alright." His voice is gentle and low as Dorian makes his confession and offers his plea. Bull works for a moment more, just to make himself certain that Dorian will be safe when he takes him. Then he pulls back, uses more oil to slick his cock - which is aching, and he's been dutifully ignoring it. Bull adjusts Dorian on the bed, finds a pillow to push beneath the mage's hips, and he leans low to give him a kiss as he positions himself.
Bull is still slow as he pushes in, careful not to go too quick despite all the preparation. He murmurs something in low Qunlat, voice edged with relief. After all that work, Dorians body is deliciously yielding and he can't help the low moan that escapes him.
He doesn't speak until their bodies fully meet. Bull huffs a breath and sinks onto his forearms; his fingers tenderly brush through Dorian's hair.
Dorian's body is buzzing, tingling at every point of contact. He kisses Bull with grateful desperation, moans when he feels the thick head of Bull's cock press to his loosened hole. His body opens easily. Heat rolls through him in a steady wave as, with the remarkably gentle press of his hips, Bull fills him. Bull's cock is huge and hot and by the time he's buried to the hilt, heavy balls pressed satisfyingly against his ass, Dorian is utterly wrecked.
Bull has fucked him more times now than Dorian cares to count, but the feeling never stops being completely overwhelming. He's by far the biggest man he'd ever taken, and each and every time it feels like a miracle that his much smaller body can contain him--and seemingly so easily, too. Bull's patience and thorough preparation are always to thank. But Dorian has been specifically teased beforehand this time more than ever before, and he feels everything that much more acutely.
Their faces remain close; Bull covers him completely, appealingly heavy over him without putting too much weight on him. Dorian looks up into his eye, and cradles Bull's face softly in both his hands as he feels the scratch of the Qunari's filed claws through his hair. "Oh, Bull," he breathes in the small space between them. He feels so vulnerable, but so protected. Like it's safe to offer that to Bull. "I'm--better than ever, really." There's a hint of a breathy laugh in his voice, and his lips pull into a soft smile. "Do continue?" he prompts. "And if I get close..." Maker, he can't believe he's requesting this, after everything. "Stop me. I don't want to finish until you do."
Bull nuzzles Dorian's jaw and bites gently there. He can't stay that way when he moves his hips, though; it's difficult to bend quite this much when he's on top of Dorian. He doesn't want to gore Dorian's poor mattress by tipping his head the wrong way.
He reaches down to hold one of Dorian's thighs, using it to pull him closer as he pushes back in. He murmurs soft praise in heavy Qunlat as he pushes himself up. He doesn't want to smother Dorian, either. It's easy to build a rhythm from there, something deep and insistent, slow at first but building. Bull tries to keep in mind Dorian's request and he makes himself focus on Dorian's body more than his own, on every little tremble and arch, on the way he rocks his hips and goes tight beneath him. He's fairly certain he can keep focused enough to catch Dorian before he comes.
"As long as you need," Dorian laughs, only the smallest edge of hysteria to his voice. He's determined to last as long as Bull does, though he'll undoubtedly need help. Every rock of Bull's cock into his body lights up his nerves, filling the well of feeling and sensation inside him so much that it threatens to overflow with each full, careful thrust. He's so lucky to have a man like Bull, who can bring him so much pleasure without even trying--and yet he does try, always, and makes him feel that much better because of it.
As requested, he sighs and moans openly, low and throaty to panting gasps to louder cries, wrung from him with deep, slow, through thrusts. Bull moves away, so better to fuck him, and Dorian looks up at him with nothing short of adoration, the feeling warm and immediate, close to the surface, reflected in the softness of his half-lidded gray eyes.
Dorian's hands move to settle on Bull's chest, somewhere to touch and explore idly as Bull moves inside him, as Dorian shudders and reacts beneath him, wide-spread legs allowing him very little actual movement, but arching and shifting his hips to meet each movement as much as he can.
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"Oh, kaffas--you are such a frustrating man!" Dorian exclaims, half complaint and half accusation. Nonetheless, his cock twitches against his stomach as it dribbles precum onto his skin, and his hole is stretched soft and slick with oil as the pads of Bull's fingers tease against it.
A flush has risen high in Dorian's cheeks, a heat that has suffused throughout his body. He feels hypersensitive, every touch magnified as he anticipates being handled with more intent. But Bull doesn't seem to care much about bringing him off at the moment, or even about preparing him. He seems, at the moment, to be simply playing, mining his body for reactions, bringing him pleasure without particular intent. And as beside himself with it as Dorian is, as desperate as he is for something more substantial, he doesn't hate it. Far from it. Even now, he recognizes somewhere in the back of his mind that when Bull is good and ready to give him satisfaction--and he will, eventually--it will be all the more gratifying for having been earned.
And here he'd thought, before they'd ever coupled, that Bull would simply pin him down and rut him into the mattress for a round or two, and that would be that. While that has happened, and been very enjoyable, Dorian has realized now for some time that his assumptions in that regard had been based purely on stereotype. In truth, he has never known a lover before who had the Bull's patience, attentiveness, and creativity.
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He draws it out a while longer, offering Dorian brief glimpses of relief with a tongue teasing over his cock or fingers penetrating again, but never as much as Dorian wants. Bull waits until he can feel Dorian trembling.
"Hey," he whispers as he lays Dorian down, lets him relax as much as he canwith his thighs still on either side of Bull. He leans close, bracing himself above Dorian as he finally gives him something substantial. Two fingers push in, push deep. "Still with me?"
no subject
By the time Bull sees fit to lay him down, there's precum pooling copiously on his belly, and the most sensitive parts of his body feel raw and worked over, though Bull has hardly given them much attention at all. His nipples are peaked and sore, his cock blood-dark and aching, lips bitten red and swollen by scraping teeth, his limbs shake, and his flushed bronze skin prickles with the anticipation of touch.
As such, it's no surprise that the cry he emits when two of Bull's thick fingers press satisfyingly deep inside him for the first time tonight is loud and wanton, a sound of surprise and pleasure that echoes off the stone walls of Dorian's small firelit room. His gaze is a little hazy when he meets Bull's eye, plump lips parting on a shaky inhale. His legs are already spread obscenely wide around Bull's hips, and he'd spread them further if it meant getting more of those wonderfully big fingers where he needs them most. It feels disproportionately good after all of that teasing; so much so that a little finger fucking and rubbing in the right places stands to bring him to the edge incredibly quickly. His cock leaks promisingly against his stomach.
"If you're intending to drive me mad, you've made a fine start," is his tart response, clipped, but half pleading. "Maker," he breathes more quietly, "I'll come on just your fingers."
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"Do you want to?" he asks when Dorian confesses that he could come just like this. Bull isn't inclined to stop him, but he also knows how Dorian feels about having his cock. "Or can you hold out until I'm inside you?"
Regardless of the answer, Bull isn't going to rush his preparation. He never does; he can't. The one exception in recent history has been with Dorian, on the days or nights when they managed more than once in relatively short order. The first night they were together, the third round was easy in that sense.
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But Bull's question deserves some serious consideration. Or as much as he can give it, at the moment. He squirms, moans softly. What a choice. He's been toyed with for so long that he aches, and release seems finally achievable--and so near. But if he's only able to hold on for a little longer, he can come with Bull's cock inside him, which is always the most satisfying end.
Dorian breathes out slowly, unsteadily. A frustrated sigh. "I want you inside me," he confesses, difficult as it is to convince himself to wait when he's already been waiting so long. He isn't even entirely certain that he can hold out. But he wants to. Even more than pleasure it brings, he needs that connection, that closeness. "Soon, Bull, please." Finally, that word. He's refused to say it all this time.
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Bull is still slow as he pushes in, careful not to go too quick despite all the preparation. He murmurs something in low Qunlat, voice edged with relief. After all that work, Dorians body is deliciously yielding and he can't help the low moan that escapes him.
He doesn't speak until their bodies fully meet. Bull huffs a breath and sinks onto his forearms; his fingers tenderly brush through Dorian's hair.
"Alright?"
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Bull has fucked him more times now than Dorian cares to count, but the feeling never stops being completely overwhelming. He's by far the biggest man he'd ever taken, and each and every time it feels like a miracle that his much smaller body can contain him--and seemingly so easily, too. Bull's patience and thorough preparation are always to thank. But Dorian has been specifically teased beforehand this time more than ever before, and he feels everything that much more acutely.
Their faces remain close; Bull covers him completely, appealingly heavy over him without putting too much weight on him. Dorian looks up into his eye, and cradles Bull's face softly in both his hands as he feels the scratch of the Qunari's filed claws through his hair. "Oh, Bull," he breathes in the small space between them. He feels so vulnerable, but so protected. Like it's safe to offer that to Bull. "I'm--better than ever, really." There's a hint of a breathy laugh in his voice, and his lips pull into a soft smile. "Do continue?" he prompts. "And if I get close..." Maker, he can't believe he's requesting this, after everything. "Stop me. I don't want to finish until you do."
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He reaches down to hold one of Dorian's thighs, using it to pull him closer as he pushes back in. He murmurs soft praise in heavy Qunlat as he pushes himself up. He doesn't want to smother Dorian, either. It's easy to build a rhythm from there, something deep and insistent, slow at first but building. Bull tries to keep in mind Dorian's request and he makes himself focus on Dorian's body more than his own, on every little tremble and arch, on the way he rocks his hips and goes tight beneath him. He's fairly certain he can keep focused enough to catch Dorian before he comes.
"How long do you want to draw this out?"
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As requested, he sighs and moans openly, low and throaty to panting gasps to louder cries, wrung from him with deep, slow, through thrusts. Bull moves away, so better to fuck him, and Dorian looks up at him with nothing short of adoration, the feeling warm and immediate, close to the surface, reflected in the softness of his half-lidded gray eyes.
Dorian's hands move to settle on Bull's chest, somewhere to touch and explore idly as Bull moves inside him, as Dorian shudders and reacts beneath him, wide-spread legs allowing him very little actual movement, but arching and shifting his hips to meet each movement as much as he can.