Bull drapes his arm around Dorian as the mage snuggles close. This feels better; it feels right. He's missed the familiar press of Dorian's body against him as he sleeps. His fingers stroke along warm, exposed skin.
"It wasn't," he murmurs. "It was worth it."
He leans down to kiss the top of Dorian's head. "Go to sleep."
Bull has already decided that if Dorian does sleep late, he'll bring breakfast and coffee up for them.
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.
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"It wasn't," he murmurs. "It was worth it."
He leans down to kiss the top of Dorian's head. "Go to sleep."
Bull has already decided that if Dorian does sleep late, he'll bring breakfast and coffee up for them.
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"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.