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The Iron Bull ([personal profile] aban_aqun) wrote2019-10-26 05:46 pm
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[personal profile] bestdressed 2020-04-20 04:54 am (UTC)(link)
"I make no promises," Dorian sniffs, and wraps his arms as far around Bull's middle as they'll reach. "You're ridiculously warm, and so quite convenient to sleep beside in this climate." Indeed, when he lays his head against Bull's chest now, it radiates heat. This is what he'd been missing in the Fallow Mire. If he'd had Bull to curl up beside in the comfort of a shared bedroll, maybe it wouldn't have felt like his feet were soggy blocks of ice liable to drop off at any moment.

His eyelids droop, but he happens to glance up at the ceiling once more before they fall shut. "I hope it wasn't too much of a hassle," he says softly. "Fixing the roof."
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[personal profile] bestdressed 2020-04-21 02:28 am (UTC)(link)
Dorian smiles at that, soft and sleepy and radiant. He hadn't meant to imply that Bull had done it just for him, but Bull had all but confirmed it anyway. It's much more effort on his behalf than he'd ever expected. For the first time, it feels like the man he's sleeping with is actually making room for him rather than trying to box him off into a lonely corner to be unpacked only when it's convenient. The stones and wooden beams patching Bull's roof, the glass panes in his window, even the ruined curtains--Bull has installed them so that Dorian can become a fixture in his life, and exist there comfortably. He feels important. It's entirely novel.

"All right," he agrees groggily. "If you do. Let's lie down at least," he advises with a yawn. And as soon as Bull moves, Dorian gladly sprawls on top of him, hooking a thigh over Bull's leg and nuzzling into his chest.