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."
"But you have been tied before?" Bull's curious. He gently eases Dorian off his lap and onto the bed so he can get up to find what he needs. He still wants an answer, though, and gives Dorian a prompting look before he crouches down in front of his chest.
It takes some digging, but Bull eventually produces the deep purple silk ropes he'd purchased in Val Royaeux. He drapes several lengths over his shoulder, then picks up another set: white. Dorian looks good in white, the contrast against his warm skin is striking. Bull thinks the colors together will look good. And it will let him keep track of what he's tied and where.
Dorian makes himself comfortable sitting on the bed, folding his legs under him as Bull begins to rummage through the large chest in which Dorian knows he keeps most of his things. He watches as he draws out rope in two different colors. He recognizes the purple at once, and feels an odd sense of pride at the memory. Bull holding it against his skin, telling him this was his color. Like he might not use it with anyone else.
"A little. Usually only to bind my arms. Once around my legs to hold them open." He still remembers exactly how the ropes had felt digging into his thighs. He wouldn't mind repeating it with Bull doing the tying. "There typically wasn't the time or place for anything more involved."
Bull lays the ropes on the end of the bed. "Stand up so I can undress you." He wants to take his time with it. He's missed Dorian and he's not interested in rushing anything.
Undressing Dorian is relatively easy, at least. Bull is intimately familiar with all of the fastenings and buckles and ties.
"What I do will be different," he cautions. "Have you seen the ropes I wear?"
Bull doesn't wear them often, and when he does, they usually disappear beneath some of his heavier armor.
Dorian slides from the bed when directed, standing before Bull in just a few steps. He lets him take the lead here, remaining helpful but passive in the process of disrobing. It seems like something Bull wants to do himself, and Dorian is perfectly content to let him. Bull had helped him dress today, so he might as well help him undress as well.
"Of course I've seen them," he says, like it's obvious. Even if the glimpses were brief, he could never miss the way those ropes weave across Bull's arms and torso, complex and intriguing in a similar way to how he sees vitaar; distinctly Qunari, but pleasing to look at. "Are you going to put something similar on me?" He's deeply curious about that, both the functionality and the significance.
"Yes and no," he answers. He lifts his gaze to give Dorian a sly smile. "I wouldn't use Ben-Hassrath colors or knots on you. But the idea is similar."
He finishes undressing Dorian and makes sure all of his clothes end up folded over a chair. That done, Bull starts measuring out lengths of purple and white rope.
"Hold your arms out a little and... yeah, feet further apart."
That will make it easier for him to work. When Dorian is ready, Bull starts weaving together a harness of intricate patterns.
Dorian's eyebrows raise as a more genteel alternative to rolling his eyes. Of course Bull isn't going to put him in Ben-Hassrath garb. He's fairly certain that fucking one doesn't make you qualify. He shivers a little when his bare feet hit the floor, and his skin pebbles in the cool air.
The feel of the silk rope is decadent in a way he hadn't expected, and he relaxes as Bull directs him to one pose after the next to wrap and tie the rope around him. It feels snug, but not so much that it will hurt if pressure is put on it. He feels secure, and he mellows gradually, breath slowing.
A faint smile appears as he listens to Dorian's breathing change. There's something very meditative for him, too, as he works the knots and weaves the ropes in and out of each other. When Bull is satisfied with everything he's done on Dorian's torso, he coaxes the mage onto the bed.
"Face down," he murmurs as he presses a hand between Dorian's shoulder blades. Once he's in position, Bull takes up more rope and starts working it around Dorian's thighs. By the time he's done, Dorian's ankles are bound to his thighs and his wrists are bound there as well. Bull wants Dorian to feel vulnerable and secure all at once, in a way only the ropes can offer.
"Nothing's too tight?" he asks as he checks his work. He wants to make sure there's no chance of any of the knots slipping.
Just as he has been, Dorian follows Bull's direction and lays down on the bed. He presses his face into the sheets and breathes, slow and steady, as Bull bends and moves and ties his limbs in the way he's chosen. He expected this process to be quite different. Instead of speeding up, his heart slows. It's soothing. Not that Bull's deft hands all over his body tying intimate knots against his skin isn't arousing; it is, and his cock is half hard between his belly and the bed. But it simply doesn't feel like a priority.
By the time Bull asks his question, Dorian is floating, hazy and comfortable even as his hands and ankles are bound to his thighs. Bull directs, and his body bends. It's so simple. He smiles, turning his face to the side so that he can look up at Bull from the bed. He tests the ropes, exerting real pressure on them for the first time, and his breath stutters when they don't budge. He couldn't move his arms or press his legs together if he wanted to. He feels exposed, but safe.
Bull leans down to give Dorian a tender kiss. "I'll be right back."
He lets his fingers brush down Dorian's back before he moves away from the bed. From his chest he takes a different kind of rope, thicker than the silk wrapped around Dorian. He returns to Dorian to thread the new rope through the harness, making sure that Dorian's weight will be distributed evenly when he's hanging.
Then, Bull picks Dorian up from the bed. He carries the mage tenderly until they reach a spot he likes it. He tosses one end of the rope over the beam and slowly releases his grip on Dorian as he hoists him up. When Dorian's at a satisfactory height - almost eye level with Bull - he ties the other end of the rope off and steps back to let Dorian adjust to the new feeling.
Dorian knows what is happening, and yet somehow is still surprised when it actually does. He loves being in Bull's arms for the duration of time it takes him to arrange the ropes properly. He nuzzles against his neck, kisses the thick muscle there, and lets his warmth sink into his skin. A moment later Bull lets him go, gently, slowly. But he doesn't fall.
There isn't any sudden drop, or even a real shift in how his weight is distributed, but he tenses on instinct, like that's what will keep him from tumbling to the ground. But he isn't in control of that at all. The Bull is, and the Bull would never let anything happen to him. He's lifted higher, higher than he would be if he were standing, and Bull is right there watching him. Reassured, he lets his body relax, he is held. Without doing a single thing, he is suspended in the air, and the ropes hold him. He feels the pressure all over his body as they take his full weight, feels where the knots press into his skin, where the ropes rub against sensitive places, or dig into his thighs. But nothing about it feels off.
"It feels like I'm floating," he laughs, and looks up at Bull through his eyelashes--and for once, he doesn't have to look up very far. "I had no idea it would be so nice."
Bull smiles as Dorian gives him a dreamy sort of look. He holds the mage by his chin and gives him another kiss - no real leaning this time. It's a novelty to have Dorian at about his height while he's standing.
"There's something comforting in them," he agrees. "The feeling of being held. Contained."
He moves in a slow circle around Dorian, absently adjusting a knot here or where a rope pulls there. When he's satisifed that Dorian's weight is distributed well enough that nothing will go numb or start losing circulation, Bull finally touches Dorian's cock. Just a brush of his fingers at first, reminding Dorian that he hasn't forgotten. But then he focuses, stroking slowly to make sure Dorian is fully aroused.
Dorian makes a soft noise in agreement, lips still feeling the press of Bull's. He feels oddly more sensitive--or simply more aware of his body, perhaps. Each touch and each drag and pull of the ropes against his skin lingers.
And then Bull's fingers are on his cock, and Dorian moans, low and needy and surprised by how strong that feeling is. He'd all but forgotten about it until just now, but Bull's hand, when it wraps around him properly, is so big and warm and rough, perfect. He strains in his ropes, trying to get more, anything, but it's a pointless endeavor. He can't move. There is nothing, nothing he can do but let Bull stroke him, nice and slow, and feel his cock throb to life until it's full and aching.
"Bull," he whimpers. He feels on display in a way that's more intimate than usual, but that only contributes to the hot feeling of arousal building inside him, making him flush and pant as Bull works him over.
"Hm?" Bull smiles and brushes a few kisses along Dorian's back. He stokes until he can feel precome escaping the head, and then he stops. He steps away to find the oil they like and slips it into a pocket so he has it close at hand.
After looking at Dorian for a moment, deliberating, Bull moves closer. Carefully, slowly, he adjusts Dorian's position and the way the ropes suspending him slide through the harness until Dorian is on his back, cradled still. Bull finds another length of silk and uses it to make a sling for Dorian's head: he doesn't want his neck strained with the effort of holding it up.
"There," he murmurs, apparently pleased. One big hand cradles Dorian's head, guiding the mage into a kiss as the other wraps around his cock again. He strokes slowly but very deliberately, doing the small things he knows Dorian will like. He twists his wrist just so, lets his thumb and palm tease over the slick head.
The rush of cool air against his heated skin when Bull steps away is jarring, and Dorian takes a deep breath to keep himself from saying anything too embarrassing. He closes his eyes instead and feels the way the ropes around him are manipulated to change his position rather than watching as it happens. As far as feeling exposed goes, being on his back makes the feeling that much more acute. At least he can lay down properly now, releasing the tension from his core to let the ropes take all of his weight.
Bull cradles his head better than the sling he created, however, and Dorian leans into the touch like he's starved for it. They kiss, and Dorian instinctively wants to reach for him, to drape his arms across his wide shoulders as he has so many times before. The muscles in his arms strain as he tries and fails, and somehow that frustration, that denial, is arousing in and of itself.
The noises he makes as Bull touches him are half muffled by Dorian's insistence on kissing. His cock throbs in Bull's hand, flushed dark and slick with the precome that Bull's fingers smear across the head. Bull knows every trick there is to bring him to the edge quickly, and Dorian is powerless to resist. "Oh," he breathes, far too gently for how close he feels. His thighs tense gradually as he draws tight. Does Bull really want him to come already? The thought flickers across his mind, but there is little he can do about it either way. "Bull, please--" Stop, continue? Even he isn't certain.
"I want you to come," he murmurs sweetly against Dorian's mouth as soon as he hears the plea. "We have a long night ahead of us."
Bull wants to see Dorian utterly boneless by the time he's finished, wants to see him at the point where he needs the ropes to hold him in a position. But more than anything, he wants to make it very clear how much he missed Dorian: every single inch of him.
He gives Dorian's cock a gentle squeeze on the next stroke, coaxing him toward the edge.
A long night, he says, as though this is just the beginning. Dorian tries to wrap his mind around that, the idea that there's much more to come, but his needs right now are far too immediate. Whatever is in store, he trusts Bull to take good care of him.
Something flickers at the edge of his mind--a memory. The night Bull had come to his room after they'd returned to Skyhold last time, after Dorian thought he might give Bull a little space. But Bull hadn't wanted that. Dorian asked him what he wanted, if he could choose something, and he'd said he wanted a night together where Dorian would give himself over to him completely. Is this what he'd meant? It must be. Dorian's never felt so completely at someone else's mercy, and never enjoyed the idea so much.
He twists and jerks in his binds as his pleasure builds, thrusting his hips up as much as the ropes will allow--very little, of course--and with Bull's hand tight around him, he comes with a groan, spilling over Bull's fingers, his own stomach, and the ropes crossed over his body there.
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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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It takes some digging, but Bull eventually produces the deep purple silk ropes he'd purchased in Val Royaeux. He drapes several lengths over his shoulder, then picks up another set: white. Dorian looks good in white, the contrast against his warm skin is striking. Bull thinks the colors together will look good. And it will let him keep track of what he's tied and where.
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"A little. Usually only to bind my arms. Once around my legs to hold them open." He still remembers exactly how the ropes had felt digging into his thighs. He wouldn't mind repeating it with Bull doing the tying. "There typically wasn't the time or place for anything more involved."
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Undressing Dorian is relatively easy, at least. Bull is intimately familiar with all of the fastenings and buckles and ties.
"What I do will be different," he cautions. "Have you seen the ropes I wear?"
Bull doesn't wear them often, and when he does, they usually disappear beneath some of his heavier armor.
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"Of course I've seen them," he says, like it's obvious. Even if the glimpses were brief, he could never miss the way those ropes weave across Bull's arms and torso, complex and intriguing in a similar way to how he sees vitaar; distinctly Qunari, but pleasing to look at. "Are you going to put something similar on me?" He's deeply curious about that, both the functionality and the significance.
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He finishes undressing Dorian and makes sure all of his clothes end up folded over a chair. That done, Bull starts measuring out lengths of purple and white rope.
"Hold your arms out a little and... yeah, feet further apart."
That will make it easier for him to work. When Dorian is ready, Bull starts weaving together a harness of intricate patterns.
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The feel of the silk rope is decadent in a way he hadn't expected, and he relaxes as Bull directs him to one pose after the next to wrap and tie the rope around him. It feels snug, but not so much that it will hurt if pressure is put on it. He feels secure, and he mellows gradually, breath slowing.
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"Face down," he murmurs as he presses a hand between Dorian's shoulder blades. Once he's in position, Bull takes up more rope and starts working it around Dorian's thighs. By the time he's done, Dorian's ankles are bound to his thighs and his wrists are bound there as well. Bull wants Dorian to feel vulnerable and secure all at once, in a way only the ropes can offer.
"Nothing's too tight?" he asks as he checks his work. He wants to make sure there's no chance of any of the knots slipping.
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By the time Bull asks his question, Dorian is floating, hazy and comfortable even as his hands and ankles are bound to his thighs. Bull directs, and his body bends. It's so simple. He smiles, turning his face to the side so that he can look up at Bull from the bed. He tests the ropes, exerting real pressure on them for the first time, and his breath stutters when they don't budge. He couldn't move his arms or press his legs together if he wanted to. He feels exposed, but safe.
"No," he says. "It feels good."
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He lets his fingers brush down Dorian's back before he moves away from the bed. From his chest he takes a different kind of rope, thicker than the silk wrapped around Dorian. He returns to Dorian to thread the new rope through the harness, making sure that Dorian's weight will be distributed evenly when he's hanging.
Then, Bull picks Dorian up from the bed. He carries the mage tenderly until they reach a spot he likes it. He tosses one end of the rope over the beam and slowly releases his grip on Dorian as he hoists him up. When Dorian's at a satisfactory height - almost eye level with Bull - he ties the other end of the rope off and steps back to let Dorian adjust to the new feeling.
"Still alright? Nothing going numb?"
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There isn't any sudden drop, or even a real shift in how his weight is distributed, but he tenses on instinct, like that's what will keep him from tumbling to the ground. But he isn't in control of that at all. The Bull is, and the Bull would never let anything happen to him. He's lifted higher, higher than he would be if he were standing, and Bull is right there watching him. Reassured, he lets his body relax, he is held. Without doing a single thing, he is suspended in the air, and the ropes hold him. He feels the pressure all over his body as they take his full weight, feels where the knots press into his skin, where the ropes rub against sensitive places, or dig into his thighs. But nothing about it feels off.
"It feels like I'm floating," he laughs, and looks up at Bull through his eyelashes--and for once, he doesn't have to look up very far. "I had no idea it would be so nice."
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"There's something comforting in them," he agrees. "The feeling of being held. Contained."
He moves in a slow circle around Dorian, absently adjusting a knot here or where a rope pulls there. When he's satisifed that Dorian's weight is distributed well enough that nothing will go numb or start losing circulation, Bull finally touches Dorian's cock. Just a brush of his fingers at first, reminding Dorian that he hasn't forgotten. But then he focuses, stroking slowly to make sure Dorian is fully aroused.
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And then Bull's fingers are on his cock, and Dorian moans, low and needy and surprised by how strong that feeling is. He'd all but forgotten about it until just now, but Bull's hand, when it wraps around him properly, is so big and warm and rough, perfect. He strains in his ropes, trying to get more, anything, but it's a pointless endeavor. He can't move. There is nothing, nothing he can do but let Bull stroke him, nice and slow, and feel his cock throb to life until it's full and aching.
"Bull," he whimpers. He feels on display in a way that's more intimate than usual, but that only contributes to the hot feeling of arousal building inside him, making him flush and pant as Bull works him over.
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After looking at Dorian for a moment, deliberating, Bull moves closer. Carefully, slowly, he adjusts Dorian's position and the way the ropes suspending him slide through the harness until Dorian is on his back, cradled still. Bull finds another length of silk and uses it to make a sling for Dorian's head: he doesn't want his neck strained with the effort of holding it up.
"There," he murmurs, apparently pleased. One big hand cradles Dorian's head, guiding the mage into a kiss as the other wraps around his cock again. He strokes slowly but very deliberately, doing the small things he knows Dorian will like. He twists his wrist just so, lets his thumb and palm tease over the slick head.
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Bull cradles his head better than the sling he created, however, and Dorian leans into the touch like he's starved for it. They kiss, and Dorian instinctively wants to reach for him, to drape his arms across his wide shoulders as he has so many times before. The muscles in his arms strain as he tries and fails, and somehow that frustration, that denial, is arousing in and of itself.
The noises he makes as Bull touches him are half muffled by Dorian's insistence on kissing. His cock throbs in Bull's hand, flushed dark and slick with the precome that Bull's fingers smear across the head. Bull knows every trick there is to bring him to the edge quickly, and Dorian is powerless to resist. "Oh," he breathes, far too gently for how close he feels. His thighs tense gradually as he draws tight. Does Bull really want him to come already? The thought flickers across his mind, but there is little he can do about it either way. "Bull, please--" Stop, continue? Even he isn't certain.
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Bull wants to see Dorian utterly boneless by the time he's finished, wants to see him at the point where he needs the ropes to hold him in a position. But more than anything, he wants to make it very clear how much he missed Dorian: every single inch of him.
He gives Dorian's cock a gentle squeeze on the next stroke, coaxing him toward the edge.
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Something flickers at the edge of his mind--a memory. The night Bull had come to his room after they'd returned to Skyhold last time, after Dorian thought he might give Bull a little space. But Bull hadn't wanted that. Dorian asked him what he wanted, if he could choose something, and he'd said he wanted a night together where Dorian would give himself over to him completely. Is this what he'd meant? It must be. Dorian's never felt so completely at someone else's mercy, and never enjoyed the idea so much.
He twists and jerks in his binds as his pleasure builds, thrusting his hips up as much as the ropes will allow--very little, of course--and with Bull's hand tight around him, he comes with a groan, spilling over Bull's fingers, his own stomach, and the ropes crossed over his body there.
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