aban_aqun | The Winter Palace

Dorian sits up enough to reach for a sandwich, balancing the wine bottle in his lap as he eats. But he pays attention to neither his food nor his drink. How could he when Bull is busy undressing in front of him? It's something he's seen--without exaggeration--a hundred times by now, but it's never become any less appealing. After this long, he doesn't think it ever will.

As soon as Bull is beside him and settled again he takes another swig from the bottle, then hands it off. With a hand free to help balance himself, it's easy to swing a leg over one of Bull's and press close, his thighs one either side of one of Bull's. His robe shifts, revealing a tempting measure of golden skin from knee to hip. "If you care to remove that last layer, I'll make it worth your while," he promises with an inviting curl of his lips. It would be a shame not to take advantage of this bed while they have it, wouldn't it?

Bull breathes a sigh as Dorian straddles his thigh and presses close. He sets the wine somewhere it won't be compromised and then slides his hands over Dorian's thighs. It almost frightens him knowing that he could spend hours just touching Dorian, contented by his scent and the sound of his voice.

He chuckles at the proposition.

"You sure you got it in you, big guy?"

It's been a long night, but Bull suspects that won't stop Dorian. Much.

Relieved of the wine and with Bull's big hands grasping his thighs, Dorian crowds closer. Warm skin against warm skin, he feels a spark of excitement, but more than that--and perhaps more importantly--he feels safe and happy, content in a way that has everything to do with Bull.

"I don't have it in me yet," Dorian says. The laughter in his voice is dangerously close to a drunken giggle. "But soon enough, yes?" He cradles Bull's jaw in his palm to steady him as he leans in to kiss the corner of his lips. "I've wanted you all night."

Bull turns his head as Dorian's lips brush against the corner of his mouth. He smiles and pulls the mage closer against him, encouraging the rock of his hips and the steady grind against his thigh and hip.

"It was the uniform, wasn't it?" he teased, his eye bright as he looks at Dorian's face. His hands slide over his hips and the perfect curve of his ass, then down along his thighs again. Bull just wants to touch him everywhere. It's been a long night.

With Bull pulling him closer, rocking against him is the obvious choice. It's gentle at first, a languid roll of his hips against Bull's thigh and hip, friction for the slow stirring of his cock. He hums approvingly low in his throat as Bull's hands wander over his body, holding and caressing. Dorian's eyes are equally as bright when they meet Bull's.

"It was how handsome you looked in the uniform," he makes a minor correction. "I wouldn't have appreciated it nearly so much on anyone else." His other hand finds a place against Bull's jaw as well, thumbs tracing the cleanly-shaved lines of his beard. "But you looked just as good sweating and shirtless and covered in blood. Choosing not to return to the party then was a very near thing."

"That big kitchen table was tempting," he admits as he pulls Dorian into a full kiss. His own cock stirs and he's halfway to full arousal as Dorian rocks against him. He can feel Dorian's cock getting hard against him and that spurs on the rush of heat. His hands slide up to cradle Dorian's face, holding him still as he tastes the wine on his tongue.

"Started wondering how quick we could be."

He'd even broken it down in his head, the different options, until they were interrupted.

Dorian sinks into the kiss just as he'd sunk into the bed earlier: easily, gladly, and with a wistful determination to enjoy it while it lasts. His lips part and his tongue slides eagerly against Bull's as it slides into his mouth. His hands trace down Bull's neck to his chest, both bracing and appreciating the curve of the thick muscle there.

"I knew we were thinking the same thing." He grins and kisses Bull again, slotting his cock against the warm, thick flesh of his hip. Maker, Bull's body is such a wonder. He wants to touch him everywhere. "I'm sure we could have made it back in good time if you'd fucked my thighs."

Bull groans low and catches Dorian in a sharper kiss as he thighs of fucking the mage's thighs.

"Didn't think of that," he rumbles before he takes another kiss. He almost wishes he had thought of it in the moment, but they have a tendency to get caught up in each other and neither of them was really willing to leave the Inquisitor hanging.

His hands slide down Dorian's back and over his ass to encourage the rock of his hips.

Dorian smiles against Bull's mouth, nipping gently at his lower lip as he pulls back to wonder, "Don't I always have the best ideas, amatus?" He says it so quietly, barely a breath between them. Casually, like it was nothing. But like so many other things that are meaningful to Dorian, he plays it down so as not to seem too foolish.

He has never called anyone that name--not deliberately, at least. He is terrified of ruining everything with it. But the truth of his feelings is impossible to deny now. If happily spending hours with Bull very publicly tonight has shown him anything, it's that the potential for something more exists between them, despite their obvious differences. And if he doesn't acknowledge it, doesn't fight for it, he'll regret it for the rest of his life. That potential is worth more than embarrassment, humiliation, or even potential heartbreak.

Pulse beating hard and breath short, he hurries to kiss Bull again purely so that he won't have to face the consequences of his actions, whatever they may be.

Amatus. Dorian has never called him that before and it sends a different kind of warmth flooding through Bull. Something softer, something deeper. He meets the kiss, pulling Dorian tighter against him. Bull moves his leg, making sure to keep Dorian pressed up against him as the mage chases his pleasure. It feels good.

"Tell me what you need," he murmurs, his voice deep and low between them as his hand strokes down Dorian's back. Bull wants to give him everything, anything he wants.

Bull doesn't reject him. He pulls him closer instead, affirming for Dorian that he hadn't been wrong to call him such an intimate thing. He sighs with relief, nuzzling beneath Bull's jaw as he rocks against him. The tight heat in his belly and the ache in his cock demand satisfaction, but what he wants more than anything is just to be close to Bull. Always, ideally. But failing that, for tonight at least.

"I want you to lay me down," he says. "I don't want to look at anything but you. And I want you to fuck my thighs." They might as well take full advantage of the bed. "I won't stop thinking about it otherwise."

Bull gently eases Dorian off of him and rolls the mage onto his back. For a moment, Bull just leans over him and takes his time kissing him, like he can taste the word amatus on his tongue.

Eventually he pulls back and eases up so that he can find the lubricant. He doesn't want either of them to chafe and he knows they have plenty of it.

When he finds the oil, Bull looks down at Dorian as he slicks his cock and uses whatever oil he has left on his hand on Dorian's thighs. He guides the mage's legs together and lets them rest against his shoulder.

"Like this?" he asks, checking in before he goes further.

Somehow Bull always knows just what he needs. Is it a Ben-Hassrath thing, or just a testament to how familiar they've become with each other? Either way, Dorian ends up on his back with his legs extended resting against Bull's chest, inner thighs slick with oil. It's just what he'd imagined.

"Just like this," he confirms, winding his fingers into the sheets under him. Though he can't reach him, Bull is there above him, huge and immediate, and Dorian can't look anywhere else. There is no way that his smile isn't a little sappy. He can still feel Bull's lips against his.

It almost feels too god to be true, being treated with such care and devotions by a man he'd called his beloved. To have his feelings accepted, at least--that's more than he'd ever thought he would have.

With that affirmation, Bull reaches down to guide his cock between Dorian's slick thighs. He sighs quietly and nearly closes his eye as he rocks forward. He can feel his cock slide along Dorian's and Bull allows himself a quiet, growling groan.

He keeps one arm wrapped around Dorian's legs, keeping them pinned against his body and keeping them closed as he moves his hips.

He has a beautiful view of Dorian and he takes in the sight of him, watching his face with every thrust. Normally when he's on top of Dorian, parts of the mage is obscured. This gives him everything.

That first press of Bull's cock is blissful. It feels hot against the inside of his thighs and he loves the smooth, sliding friction against his skin. The weight of it grinding along the length of his own cock makes him inhale sharply, his thigh muscles flexing and tightening.

"Kaffas," Dorian curses appreciatively under his breath. His fingers curl tighter into the sheets, anchoring himself. His ass is off the bed, held at the right height so that Bull can fuck his highs. The mattress is soft beneath his upper back, thick enough for him to sink into. He hasn't slept anywhere like this since he left Tevinter. It feels opulent and almost excessively decadent to fuck Bull on a bed like this, which makes it all the better. Dorian's always been one for decadence.

And Bull is stunningly gorgeous like this, muscles flexing as he holds Dorian's legs in place and rolls his hips for every smooth thrust. His smile, the bright focus of his eye, the impressive breadth of his shoulders and horns--and his entire body, really--Dorian watches, marvels, and feels exceedingly lucky. "Look at you," he murmurs, and reaches far enough that the fingers of one hand can touch his knee. "Maker, Bull, you're incredible."

It doesn't take Bull long to build up a steady rhythm; he only has to adjust their position once for the sake of comfort, and to make sure he's within Dorian's reach. He brushes a tender kiss to Dorian's calf as a warm hand brushes his knee.

Bull keeps one arm wrapped around Dorian's legs while the other circles their cocks, holding them together to give more friction as he fucks through Dorian's thighs and against his own hand.

"I was thinking of this all night," he confesses, quietly breahtless. "Just having you to myself."

It's likely the combination of the wine, Bull's encouragement, and how remarkably well tonight has gone, but Dorian feels, for once, like he is exactly where he should be. He's smiling, soft and bright, thumb smoothing over Bull's knee, just happy to be with him. A big rough hand lines up their cocks and he moans, tilting his head back against the bed, allowing himself to feel every bit of pleasure openly and letting Bull see and enjoy that.

That's the thing about doing this with Bull. It isn't just sex anymore. It hasn't been for some time. He doesn't do this just because he wants satisfaction, but because he wants to be closer to Bull.

"So was I. For the most part. At times I was quite pleased to have an audience."

"An audience, hm?" Bull grins and eventually he slows, just enough that he can adjust their position again. He coaxes Dorian onto his side so that he can lean close enough to kiss him without giving up his thighs. "You want everyone to see what you have, don't you? What you have and what they don't."

He nuzzles along Dorian's jaw and gently bites his earlobe. Bull's breath comes in quiet huffs as he grinds closer, losing himself in the easy, slick friction and the heat building between them.

Since it means having Bull closer, Dorian happily turns onto his side, reaching up to rest a hand against the back of his head as they kiss. Bull nips at his ear, pants against his neck, and Dorian shivers.

"Yes," he agrees, pressing his thighs tighter together. The steady drag of Bull's cock against his own builds the tight pressure in his gut, and the sensitive skin of his inner thighs feels raw and hot from the friction of his thrusts. "Because I have you. And they don't."

Bull growls when Dorian's thighs go tight and he leans down to bite his lover's shoulder.

"Dorian," he sighs and he nearly loses his rhythm as his peak hits. Bull pushes closer, managing to thrust quick and steady until he comes. He hunches over Dorian, holding him close as he slows but doesn't stop, wanting to see Dorian through to the end, too. He nuzzles the mage's temple, murmurs soft sweetness against his skin in Qunlat and Tevene, two languages that are never spoken together like this.

With Bull coming apart over him, groaning low against his ear and spending against the inside of his thighs, Dorian can't possibly last much longer himself. He understands only half of what is whispered to him so sweetly as Bull's cock continues to rock against his, but feels it in a way that is deeper than merely comprehending the words themselves. "Amatus," he breathes in return, just that word. Tonight is perfect; the Bull is perfect. And in this moment, Dorian would do anything, give up anything, to have this forever.

He feels his body drawing tighter, a wonderful ache that he lets Bull intensify into an immediate need. He moans as he comes, eyes sliding closed. Gradually the feeling of intensity tapers, but the ache lingers. His limbs are heavy. Bull is heavy too, wonderfully so. It feels like he is sinking into the bed beneath him, warm and soft and safe.

Bull is careful not to let his weight drop on Dorian, instead carefully easing himself down and bracing himself mostly against the bed. He nuzzles Dorian's hair, breathing in the scent of him as the mage relaxes beneath him. He lingers for a long moment, then slowly pulls back so that he can settle on his side behind Dorian. He knows he should get up to get a cloth, but he wants to indulge this for just a moment longer.

"And to think, you get to sleep in," he teases warmly as his hand slides along Dorian's side.

Dorian is in no hurry to clean up either. He's content to bask in the afterglow with Bull, lazy and warm and comfortable. It isn't often that they're able to lay like this, with Bull holding him from behind; usually the beds aren't large enough for them to lay across them so Bull's horns can hang over the edge. But this one is more than wide enough, and Dorian shifts back a little further, pressing his back to Bull's chest.

"You'd better not wake me before breakfast," he warns. "I have three days to spend in this bed and I intend to make the most of it."

Bull wraps his arm around Dorian to keep him close as the mage tucks against him. He smiles at the warning and buries his nose in Dorian's hair.

"Mm, wouldn't dare," he assures. Bull plans to get as much sleep as he can, but he knows he'll rise early and that he'll probably sleep light. He doesn't trust Halamshiral, even if the most obvious threat has been taken care of. There could be factions here that don't like the idea of a Vint so close to the Inquisitor, or who simply mean the Inquisition itself disruption and harm. With so many of Lavellen's inner circle in one place, they're a tempting target.

No, he won't be sleeping deeply tonight.

"Get some sleep," he murmurs. "We'll get you a bath in the morning."

"That sounds positively divine," Dorian sighs, agreeing mostly because he's already nodding off. With his body sated and a belly full of wine and the Bull curled around him, how could he remain awake? It's been a long day.

Perhaps he should consider the dangers a little more carefully given who he is and where he is. But he feels so safe with Bull that the thought hardly crosses his mind. "Perhaps we can bathe together in the morning," he muses quietly. "Do you think they have large enough tubs? Then we can go to breakfast. Tour the palace gardens..." His voice quiets until at last he trails off and his breathing evens, and he sinks into that exhausted half-asleep state just before true sleep. He's just conscious enough to find Bull's hand with his and lace their fingers, tugging it closer.

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