"I see. Thoughtful of you." That's his way of saying thanks, anyway. "And here I thought you only lived above the tavern for its proximity to the bar. Now I understand that it's both the bar and the kitchen." He smiles slyly up at Bull, and adjusts his robe, pulling it closed and retying it around his waist.
His hair, however, remains an artful mess, as it dries into its natural waves on top of a case of bedhead. His moustache is unstyled as well, though his face has been freshly shaved. He settles into the chair, pulling a plate over for himself. "Did he send beer as well? Or will I have to venture downstairs for that?"
Bull nods to the tankards on the tray. "That's beer. If you want water, one of us will have to venture out. Are you staying tonight?"
He doesn't want to presume, though he's done plenty of it since Dorian set foot through Skyhold's main gate. But this is different. Bull wants him here and that feels dangerous, and so it's one of those things he will always leave to Dorian. Well, almost always.
"So Cabot does care about me," Dorian concludes with satisfaction, and takes a deep drink from the tankard immediately. How something so objectively terrible could taste so refreshing remains a mystery.
Another mystery: the parameters of this thing with the Bull. Dorian had assumed he'd stay, but now that Bull is asking, he feels unsure. "I'd like to," he admits, though he's looking at his food when he says it. "It seemed you had some unmentionably obscene plans for me." Of course, that doesn't mean he needs to stay the night, but the last time he'd actually left after having sex was months ago.
"I want you to," Bull assures, soft and warm. He doesn't think Dorian is here out of obligation, he's perfectly capable of standing up for himself. But it feels good to hear all the same.
And after they've established that, Bull allows himself a more wolfish smile.
"I never did get to show you what I bought in Val Royeaux."
Because Bull's smile makes heat spike along his neck much sooner than Dorian is ready for that sort of thing, he averts his gaze quickly, though it's probably too obvious. He cuts his food, pretending nonchalance.
"No, you didn't. As I recall, we had other things on our mind." He's certainly replayed that encounter in his mind more than once over the last month. "So long as you're gentle with my ass, whatever you have planned should be fine," he says archly, far too imperious for essentially admitting that he's a bit saddle sore. The ride back wasn't pleasant.
"You know I'll take care of you," he says warmly. "For as long as you can stand it."
A few ideas work through his head and Bull resists the urge to look up at the exposed beams in his room. Maybe suspending Dorian would be too much for the first time, but it's an idea to think about for later.
For some reason, that statement makes Dorian flush more than Bull's grin had--and for an entirely different reason. Bull is very sweet. He hadn't expected that, in the beginning.
"I know," he says quietly, and smiles, matching Bull's warmth. The way he trusts the Bull is unlike anything else. How ironic that is, considering how suspicious of him he'd been when they met. If he'd known a year ago that he would trust a Qunari spy more than anyone else alive, he certainly would have questioned his life choices. But how could Bull be anything but genuine?
They talk a little more as they finish their meal, and when Bull assures him that the library hasn't gone up in flames in his absence, Dorian agrees that a visit can wait until tomorrow. "But I would like another drink," Dorian muses. "I suppose I should dress and make myself presentable, shouldn't I?" He's just sat here having dinner with Bull in nothing but a robe and a fresh face, and hadn't felt self-conscious about it at all.
Bull smiles when Dorian mentions looking presentable. "Chargers might be delighted by your house coat, but if you don't want any of them making comments, yeah, you might want to get dressed."
He rises to collect their plates and bowls and tankards onto the tray again. He'll bring it down with them and hand them off to some kitchen maid or another.
When they do make it downstairs (delayed slightly by Bull helping Dorian dress), the Chargers are in their corner, already a few drinks in.
Dorian, dressed in the nicest set of robes he's worn in a month and with his hair and face tamed and made up, makes his way to the bar to order their drinks as Bull drops off their trays. He keeps a close eye on Bull's progress, trailing him to the Chargers' table with tankards in hand.
In truth, he doesn't quite know what to make of the Chargers. There are times that he likes them very much, and thinks perhaps he's liked back, and others when he feels like he's still regarded with suspicion. After it was apparent that he and Bull were fucking (and, additionally, sharing a room) regularly and unlikely to stop, it seemed that his presence had been accepted on a conditional basis. Yet he still gets the sense that he's mostly tolerated for Bull's sake.
Still, what can he do but armor himself in his typical confidence? He lets Bull take his usual seat, and then sweeps in to place a tankard in front of him. "As thanks for dinner," he says, as though he needs a real reason to buy Bull a drink.
Bull settles down and accepts the tankard Dorian offers. He gently kicks out a seat next to him, dragged over so that Dorian could join the already-settled Chargers. Krem is the first to offer a little welcome, and soon after the rest of them chime in.
Stitches launches into asking about plants and the Avaar, and Dalish is morbidly fascinated whenever Dorian mentions the walking dead. Bull smiles as he listens, content to let his boys play as long as they behave. And if anyone sounds more catty or sharper than he likes, it's a quick warning look their way.
Dorian doesn't need harassing, regardless of his relation to the Bull.
Dorian is happy to expound upon the details of his trip for the amusement of the group a large, occasionally overplaying his own irritation or discomfort with mundane things to get a laugh from the group. Dorian knows how to fool others, too; how to draw their attention away from true problems by fabricating smaller ones. He's quite good at the high and mighty noble Tevinter act, sniffing at southerners and complaining at every inconvenience. Some find it amusing, others irritating, but it's worked well enough for him so far. No one pries too far into his personal affairs.
Apart from, of course, his affair with the Bull.
There are a few teasing words about how the chief might have welcomed him back after that display in the courtyard, and Dorian--as per usual, when this topic comes up--clams up almost at once. "I don't see how that concerns any of you," he says tightly.
Skinner, several seats down the table, gives a lazy half shrug. "Chief doesn't fuck anyone for this long," she drawls, the vowels of her lower-class Orlesian accent drawn out. "Just want to know you didn't put a spell on his dick, shem."
Dorian had known already, of course, that as far as the Bull's sexual history is concerned, he's a special case. But if even his company is noting it as unusual, it must truly be unprecedented. Arching a single brow, Dorian turns to Bull beside him, and with a remarkably straight face asks, "Have I put a spell on your dick, Bull?"
Bull is content to listen and watch, but his gaze cuts to Skinner when she decides to chime in with that. Dorian's voice is already tight before she jumps in.
"No one fucks me for this long," he counters in a heavy drawl of his own. He sees Krem lean forward, ready to call order or jump to some kind of defense, but he knows timing and he stays silent for now.
Dorian's question, his recovery, makes Bull want to smile. But he keeps himself solemn.
"I wouldn't put it past a Vint," he says slyly; his eye is bright. "But I think I'll survive."
Bull wants nothing more then than to kiss him or touch him, but he doesn't want to ruin Dorian's spiky momentum. Serves Skinner right.
Bull's response brings a smile to Dorian's lips, enough that he reaches beneath the table to slip his hand into Bull's. "See? He'll live. A relief for us all."
Apparently that's enough to satisfy Skinner, who leans back and begins talking to Rocky around Dalish. Dorian is aware that it was (probably) a joke. He's also well aware that Skinner is the slowest of the bunch to warm up to anyone new, let alone a human Tevinter mage, and that if she can manage to tolerate him, the rest probably like him just fine. Still, it's a relief to have it over with.
Their chairs are close enough that Dorian can lean into Bull--and up--to murmur at least near his ear, "I think it's time we had a proper reunion, yes?"
Bull brushes his thumb over Dorian's knuckles and relaxes back in his chair. He listens to the conversation carry on, but soon enough he has Dorian's voice in his ear.
"Mm, yeah. You go ahead, I'll catch up."
Might as well give Dorian a slight head start. Or maybe some dignity in leaving before him - without him - directly on his heels. Everyone knows, but he can give Dorian things like this.
"No need." If Bull is making the suggestion for his sake, then Dorian decides that tonight it isn't necessary. Everyone knows. Everyone knows. Let him, for once in his life, go upstairs with the man he's sleeping with. Everyone in the tavern can turn and look, for all he cares. He squeezes Bull's hand.
Walking up the stairs to Bull's room has never felt so exhilarating--not even the first time. Dorian feels relieved, excited, but above all, proud. The world hasn't ended because he and Bull had gone upstairs together, nor because Bull had kissed him in the courtyard today. Everyone knows they're intimate, and no one respects him less for it--or if they do, they're hardly someone worth knowing in the first place.
Brimming with restless energy, Dorian turns and reaches for the Bull as soon as they hit the landing, still half the hall away from his door and within view of the tables upstairs. He lays his hands over his biceps, squeezing gently, and he steps close enough that the fabric of his shirt brushes the Bull's bare chest. He tilts his chin to look up at him, a greater distance when they stand so close, and his expression is open and warm.
"It was terribly rude of you," he says, "to spend a month here cozy and drunk while I was freezing to death in a coprse-infested bog." In other words: I missed you.
"It was rude of you to disappear into the wilderness to kill things with the boss while I was stuck here, twiddling my thumbs and bothering Red to keep myself entertained."
I missed you, too.
Bull slides his arms around Dorian's back and closes the shred of distance between them, enjoying the way his body feels pressed up against him. Then the Bull leans down and kisses Dorian soundly. He reminds himself that they're still on the landing, but he's already done this in the courtyard, in full view of half of Skyhold. What's a few drunks?
With a quiet groan against Dorian's mouth, Bull's hands slide lower to catch him by the thighs so he can lift him up. He'll carry him the rest of the way, if Dorian lets him get away with it. He doesn't want to stop kissing him.
Dorian had been expecting a kiss, and leans up into it eagerly, reaching as far as he can so that Bull won't have to strain his neck too much. But that isn't a problem for long, as Bull gets those big hands of his beneath his thighs and lifts him. Dorian inhales sharply as he immediately recalls the last time Bull had lifted him like this. He'd held him so easily against the wall in that alleyway as he fucked up into him urgently. The Bull's strength had been astounding, and still is now.
His implicit agreement is in the way he lets his thighs spread around Bull's waist, enabling him to hold him closer. His hands slide up his arms to rest on his shoulders as they kiss again.
"They were all dead to begin with, so it wasn't the fun sort of killing things," he murmurs with amusement, leaning his forehead against Bull's. He can't stop smiling. "You wouldn't have liked it."
But I would have been with you. Bull holds that back but he lets himself smile as their brows meet. He kisses Dorian again, adjusting his hold so he has one arm beneath Dorian's ass with the other hand free to slide up his back. It takes nothing to maneuver them the rest of the way to his room.
He apologizes to Dorian when he uses the mage to push the door open and he promptly kicks it closed again once they're inside. The roof repairs are complete and the windows have glass in them. The room is almost cozy, save for the fact that it's--still Bull's room. Broken bookcase, a heavy battle axe stuck in a large timber, bottles of booze, candles melting onto a table top rather than in candle holders.
Anyone walking into the room might think he's a savage. And that's how Bull prefers it. But since Dorian started spending more time there, he made a small effort to at least make it hospitable.
Dorian huffs a little about having to open the door himself--complaining, of course, being his natural state of being--but he quiets when he looks up.
"You fixed the roof!" He's both stunned and delighted. He'd been exhausted enough to miss that earlier, and then distracted by dinner and Bull's company. "I hadn't expected you to actually do it." Something about that is deeply touching. The hole hadn't bothered Bull, but it bothered him, and Bull had done something about it for his sake. Overcome by the sweetness and consideration of that gesture, he wraps his arms tight around Bull's neck and presses a grateful kiss to his cheek. "It's almost as though you want me to move in," he jokes warmly. "But I know that can't be the case, or you'd have tidied up more."
Not that Dorian's room is anything resembling tidy by any means.
Bull nuzzles against Dorian's neck as the mage tips his head to look at the ceiling. "Mhm," he hums against his warm skin as his mouth slides over Dorian's pulse. He realizes he wouldn't mind it if Dorian moved all his things in here.
"Tidy? This from the man with books on every surface and three empty bottles of wine last I counted."
He grins as Dorian kisses his cheek and he returns the affectionate gesture before he settles on the edge of the bed. For a moment, he just looks at Dorian and drinks in the sight of him.
"We never did get to try out some of the things I got in Val Royeaux," he muses with a sly smile. "Game for it?"
"I got rid of the bottles before we left for Val Royeaux, thank you," Dorian protests, though his smile doesn't fade. Making himself comfortable, he can't seem to look away from Bull's face, drawn in by the warmth in his eye and the bright curve of his smile. Even in Bull's lap, he has to look up at him. He feels a bit less ridiculous for how much he'd longed for the Bull's presence this last month. Apparently he's been missed as well.
With the roof fixed, glass in the windows, a fire in the hearth, and Bull so close, Dorian feels truly warm for the first time since they'd parted ways. His hands smooth over his shoulders just to touch him.
"So long as that means you'll finally tie me up," he purrs. "Or tie me down, I suppose, if you'd prefer."
A shiver of excitement runs down his back as Dorian suggests the ropes. Bull kisses him again with more heat.
"Well, I do have new rafters," he rumbles quietly, his eye focused on Dorian to gauge the mage's response to the suggestion. As far as he knows, this will be new for Dorian. And even if it isn't, entirely, the way Bull does things might be. In fact, he can almost be sure of that.
Oh. The way that Bull kisses him, intense and lingering, steals his breath for several moments afterward. Clearly this is something that Bull has a great deal of personal interest in. It's exciting to learn, when Dorian has spent the last several months trying to ferret out the things that Bull enjoys. Stumbling upon a discovery like this is rare and precious.
Bull's suggestion makes Dorian glance up. Indeed, sturdy new rafters which must have been built to lend support to the roof span the room. He can picture Bull with a small team of builders raising them and repairing the roof, and something about that image makes him feel very tender. His smile grows, and he settles his hands against Bull's chest, feeling his breath and the drumbeat of his heart. "I'd hate to waste an opportunity like that," he says. "I've never been tied that way before," he admits. In truth, any time he has been tied it's been incredibly simple, and always for the purpose of binding his hands during sex. "But I'd like to try."
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His hair, however, remains an artful mess, as it dries into its natural waves on top of a case of bedhead. His moustache is unstyled as well, though his face has been freshly shaved. He settles into the chair, pulling a plate over for himself. "Did he send beer as well? Or will I have to venture downstairs for that?"
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He doesn't want to presume, though he's done plenty of it since Dorian set foot through Skyhold's main gate. But this is different. Bull wants him here and that feels dangerous, and so it's one of those things he will always leave to Dorian. Well, almost always.
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Another mystery: the parameters of this thing with the Bull. Dorian had assumed he'd stay, but now that Bull is asking, he feels unsure. "I'd like to," he admits, though he's looking at his food when he says it. "It seemed you had some unmentionably obscene plans for me." Of course, that doesn't mean he needs to stay the night, but the last time he'd actually left after having sex was months ago.
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And after they've established that, Bull allows himself a more wolfish smile.
"I never did get to show you what I bought in Val Royeaux."
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"No, you didn't. As I recall, we had other things on our mind." He's certainly replayed that encounter in his mind more than once over the last month. "So long as you're gentle with my ass, whatever you have planned should be fine," he says archly, far too imperious for essentially admitting that he's a bit saddle sore. The ride back wasn't pleasant.
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A few ideas work through his head and Bull resists the urge to look up at the exposed beams in his room. Maybe suspending Dorian would be too much for the first time, but it's an idea to think about for later.
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"I know," he says quietly, and smiles, matching Bull's warmth. The way he trusts the Bull is unlike anything else. How ironic that is, considering how suspicious of him he'd been when they met. If he'd known a year ago that he would trust a Qunari spy more than anyone else alive, he certainly would have questioned his life choices. But how could Bull be anything but genuine?
They talk a little more as they finish their meal, and when Bull assures him that the library hasn't gone up in flames in his absence, Dorian agrees that a visit can wait until tomorrow. "But I would like another drink," Dorian muses. "I suppose I should dress and make myself presentable, shouldn't I?" He's just sat here having dinner with Bull in nothing but a robe and a fresh face, and hadn't felt self-conscious about it at all.
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He rises to collect their plates and bowls and tankards onto the tray again. He'll bring it down with them and hand them off to some kitchen maid or another.
When they do make it downstairs (delayed slightly by Bull helping Dorian dress), the Chargers are in their corner, already a few drinks in.
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In truth, he doesn't quite know what to make of the Chargers. There are times that he likes them very much, and thinks perhaps he's liked back, and others when he feels like he's still regarded with suspicion. After it was apparent that he and Bull were fucking (and, additionally, sharing a room) regularly and unlikely to stop, it seemed that his presence had been accepted on a conditional basis. Yet he still gets the sense that he's mostly tolerated for Bull's sake.
Still, what can he do but armor himself in his typical confidence? He lets Bull take his usual seat, and then sweeps in to place a tankard in front of him. "As thanks for dinner," he says, as though he needs a real reason to buy Bull a drink.
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Stitches launches into asking about plants and the Avaar, and Dalish is morbidly fascinated whenever Dorian mentions the walking dead. Bull smiles as he listens, content to let his boys play as long as they behave. And if anyone sounds more catty or sharper than he likes, it's a quick warning look their way.
Dorian doesn't need harassing, regardless of his relation to the Bull.
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Apart from, of course, his affair with the Bull.
There are a few teasing words about how the chief might have welcomed him back after that display in the courtyard, and Dorian--as per usual, when this topic comes up--clams up almost at once. "I don't see how that concerns any of you," he says tightly.
Skinner, several seats down the table, gives a lazy half shrug. "Chief doesn't fuck anyone for this long," she drawls, the vowels of her lower-class Orlesian accent drawn out. "Just want to know you didn't put a spell on his dick, shem."
Dorian had known already, of course, that as far as the Bull's sexual history is concerned, he's a special case. But if even his company is noting it as unusual, it must truly be unprecedented. Arching a single brow, Dorian turns to Bull beside him, and with a remarkably straight face asks, "Have I put a spell on your dick, Bull?"
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"No one fucks me for this long," he counters in a heavy drawl of his own. He sees Krem lean forward, ready to call order or jump to some kind of defense, but he knows timing and he stays silent for now.
Dorian's question, his recovery, makes Bull want to smile. But he keeps himself solemn.
"I wouldn't put it past a Vint," he says slyly; his eye is bright. "But I think I'll survive."
Bull wants nothing more then than to kiss him or touch him, but he doesn't want to ruin Dorian's spiky momentum. Serves Skinner right.
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Apparently that's enough to satisfy Skinner, who leans back and begins talking to Rocky around Dalish. Dorian is aware that it was (probably) a joke. He's also well aware that Skinner is the slowest of the bunch to warm up to anyone new, let alone a human Tevinter mage, and that if she can manage to tolerate him, the rest probably like him just fine. Still, it's a relief to have it over with.
Their chairs are close enough that Dorian can lean into Bull--and up--to murmur at least near his ear, "I think it's time we had a proper reunion, yes?"
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"Mm, yeah. You go ahead, I'll catch up."
Might as well give Dorian a slight head start. Or maybe some dignity in leaving before him - without him - directly on his heels. Everyone knows, but he can give Dorian things like this.
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"Let's go together, Bull."
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"Tavern better still be here in the morning," he warns his boys with a pointed nod to Krem. Then he follows Dorian up the stairs.
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Brimming with restless energy, Dorian turns and reaches for the Bull as soon as they hit the landing, still half the hall away from his door and within view of the tables upstairs. He lays his hands over his biceps, squeezing gently, and he steps close enough that the fabric of his shirt brushes the Bull's bare chest. He tilts his chin to look up at him, a greater distance when they stand so close, and his expression is open and warm.
"It was terribly rude of you," he says, "to spend a month here cozy and drunk while I was freezing to death in a coprse-infested bog." In other words: I missed you.
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I missed you, too.
Bull slides his arms around Dorian's back and closes the shred of distance between them, enjoying the way his body feels pressed up against him. Then the Bull leans down and kisses Dorian soundly. He reminds himself that they're still on the landing, but he's already done this in the courtyard, in full view of half of Skyhold. What's a few drunks?
With a quiet groan against Dorian's mouth, Bull's hands slide lower to catch him by the thighs so he can lift him up. He'll carry him the rest of the way, if Dorian lets him get away with it. He doesn't want to stop kissing him.
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His implicit agreement is in the way he lets his thighs spread around Bull's waist, enabling him to hold him closer. His hands slide up his arms to rest on his shoulders as they kiss again.
"They were all dead to begin with, so it wasn't the fun sort of killing things," he murmurs with amusement, leaning his forehead against Bull's. He can't stop smiling. "You wouldn't have liked it."
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He apologizes to Dorian when he uses the mage to push the door open and he promptly kicks it closed again once they're inside. The roof repairs are complete and the windows have glass in them. The room is almost cozy, save for the fact that it's--still Bull's room. Broken bookcase, a heavy battle axe stuck in a large timber, bottles of booze, candles melting onto a table top rather than in candle holders.
Anyone walking into the room might think he's a savage. And that's how Bull prefers it. But since Dorian started spending more time there, he made a small effort to at least make it hospitable.
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"You fixed the roof!" He's both stunned and delighted. He'd been exhausted enough to miss that earlier, and then distracted by dinner and Bull's company. "I hadn't expected you to actually do it." Something about that is deeply touching. The hole hadn't bothered Bull, but it bothered him, and Bull had done something about it for his sake. Overcome by the sweetness and consideration of that gesture, he wraps his arms tight around Bull's neck and presses a grateful kiss to his cheek. "It's almost as though you want me to move in," he jokes warmly. "But I know that can't be the case, or you'd have tidied up more."
Not that Dorian's room is anything resembling tidy by any means.
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"Tidy? This from the man with books on every surface and three empty bottles of wine last I counted."
He grins as Dorian kisses his cheek and he returns the affectionate gesture before he settles on the edge of the bed. For a moment, he just looks at Dorian and drinks in the sight of him.
"We never did get to try out some of the things I got in Val Royeaux," he muses with a sly smile. "Game for it?"
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With the roof fixed, glass in the windows, a fire in the hearth, and Bull so close, Dorian feels truly warm for the first time since they'd parted ways. His hands smooth over his shoulders just to touch him.
"So long as that means you'll finally tie me up," he purrs. "Or tie me down, I suppose, if you'd prefer."
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"Well, I do have new rafters," he rumbles quietly, his eye focused on Dorian to gauge the mage's response to the suggestion. As far as he knows, this will be new for Dorian. And even if it isn't, entirely, the way Bull does things might be. In fact, he can almost be sure of that.
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Bull's suggestion makes Dorian glance up. Indeed, sturdy new rafters which must have been built to lend support to the roof span the room. He can picture Bull with a small team of builders raising them and repairing the roof, and something about that image makes him feel very tender. His smile grows, and he settles his hands against Bull's chest, feeling his breath and the drumbeat of his heart. "I'd hate to waste an opportunity like that," he says. "I've never been tied that way before," he admits. In truth, any time he has been tied it's been incredibly simple, and always for the purpose of binding his hands during sex. "But I'd like to try."
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