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.
Bull holds Dorian as he drifts off and he doesn't let go through the night. He drifts in and out of sleep, never quite succumbing to anything too deep but still managing to get some decent rest. Enough that he's groggy when he wakes in the morning.
He's up before Dorian, but he doesn't try to move or free himself. Bull is afraid of how content he feels like this, how willing he is to stay like this - to stay with Dorian. This is a life he wants to get used to and a life that he knows he can't have. Struggle is an illusion: the Qun must come first, always, for his entire life to make sense.
It isn't hard to push all that from his mind, though. The morning light is soft and warm and he smiles faintly at the samm sound Dorian makes when he finally starts to wake.
It's bright already when Dorian finally stirs. He makes a soft noise, turning unconsciously to press closer to Bull. He's always had a habit of curling up with whatever is warmest, and since he started sleeping with Bull, that means that more often than not he wakes entangled with him. Eventually that became intentional rather than incidental, and he stopped waking up embarrassed about it.
This morning, when he finally blinks awake, he smiles almost immediately and doesn't hesitate to lean in for a gentle good-morning kiss. If mornings could be like this forever he'd be pleased.
"So it wasn't all an elaborate dream," he observes sleepily. "Is it late?"
"Later than your usual," he says warmly, the smile evident in his voice. He brushes a kiss to Dorian's sleep-tousled hair after that first brush of lips. Bull's hand slides down Dorian's back and up again, content to feel him so close.
"Did you sleep well?"
As far as Bull can tell, Dorian slept like a rock. The mage hadn't moved much and there had been no soft sounds to draw Bull out of his dozing.
"Better than I've ever slept on the ground or in a drafty castle room, certainly," Dorian replies with an amused curl of his lips. His back arches into Bull's touch with a gentle roll of his shoulders, but soon he gets an arm against the bed to push himself up. He reaches for Bull with one hand, tracing along the curve of a horn with a light touch. "But I'm ready to be up now. I need a bath badly."
He leans over to kiss the space between both horns, settling his hands on Bull's shoulders. "And how did you sleep? It must have been nice to fit entirely on the bed for once."
"Well enough. It did feel good to actually fit on a bed." He gives Dorian's ass a light smack. "Come on, up you go. They brought water for a bath, though you might have to heat it up again."
Which Bull knows isn't really a problem for Dorian. Once the mage starts moving, Bull rolls onto his back with a quiet groan. He adjusts the pillow beneath his head. He does miss his bolster, he should have considered bringing it.
Bull knows he should bathe, too, though he isn't sure he'll fit into the tub hiding behind the privacy screen.
Startled by that smack, Dorian instinctively moves toward the edge of the bed, and from there just keeps going. "Brute," he grumbles half-heartedly, sliding from the bed. On his feet, he raises his arms to stretch, rolling his shoulders and his neck slowly before he strides around the partition to inspect the tub. There is, indeed, clean water and a respectable selection of expensive soaps, lotions, oils, and scrubs.
"It'll do," he declares with a sniff, as though it only just barely passes muster. A finger against the edge of the tub draws a fire glyph and the water is steaming again in seconds. "I'll ask them to bring something bigger later," he declares as he climbs in. "You should come and get washed up for now."
Bull groans quietly in protest, but eventually he eases out of bed and follows the sound of Dorian's voice. Along with the tub there is a basin and pitcher and several wash cloths. Well, he can make himself presentable, at least. A full bath, apparently, is a bit too much luxury for someone of his size to expect in Orlais.
"I'm not sure they have bigger."
He wets one of the wash cloths in the tub and starts dutifully scrubbing himself down. Bull takes his time, at least, appreciating the warm water and the fire on this side of the screen.
"This is the empress' winter palace, and Orlesians like their indulgences. They must have something," Dorian insists, and determines to hunt down a proper bath for Bull today if he has to ask Celene herself. Part of the magic of being here is feeling pampered in a way that he hasn't since coming south. Bull deserves to have all of those nice things as well.
From the tub, Dorian reaches a hand out to him, curling his fingers to gesture for the cloth. "Come here. I'll wash you." Bracing a hand on the edge, he gets to his feet. His skin sluices water, bright and golden in the morning sunlight. "And you can do the same for me, if you like."
Bull smiles warmly and offers the cloth to Dorian. He moves closer so that Dorian can reach wherever he'd like and he takes a moment to appreciate the way the water looks running over Dorian's golden skin.
"I might," he says in a gentle rumble. "I did make a mess of you."
It's an intimate thing to have Dorian take over and Bull stands obediently still for the mage as he tends to him.
"You did," Dorian agrees with a knowing smirk. "A complete mess. So I think it's only fair, yes?"
He embraces Bull when he comes near enough, kissing his chest and then his lips and pressing his water warm body against him. But he does get to washing after that, taking soap and cloth in hand. He lathers and scrubs and rinses Bull's skin in turns, even rubs oil across his shoulders and into the drier skin at the base of his horns. It's as good a treatment as he can give without actually getting Bull in the bath.
"There," he pronounces at last, draping the cloth over the edge of the tub. "Decent at last." Certainly decent enough to merit another kiss, which he imparts with satisfaction.
Bull enjoys the process and he feels like he could fall asleep again as Dorian works. When the mage is finished, he leans in to meet the kiss with a quiet hum of approval.
"Back down into the tub," he murmurs. "Your turn."
As Dorian sinks back into the water, Bull eases down onto his knees and picks up the cloth so that he can dutifully, tenderly return the favor. Bull lingers over muscles he knows must be sore.
Dorian doesn't have to be told twice. They've done this several times by now, and Dorian has always enjoyed Bull's thorough, singular attention as he helps him bathe. He sinks back down into the water, though he clucks at Bull as he gets onto his knees. "Don't be down there too long. Your poor knee." He'll gladly spend whatever time is required soothing it, of course, but he'd like to walk the palace with Bull today, and he'd like for him not to be in pain while they do so.
But he relaxes into Bull's touch quickly enough, sighing his appreciation as he not only washes, but digs his fingers into overworked muscles. "You know that I adore you?" He groans. "Even if you're often half the reason I'm sore in the first place."
Bull works slowly and diligently, going so far as to gently massage Dorian's hands and feet before he's done. Then he turns to sit with his side against the tub, one arm in the water so he can keep touching Dorian.
He could get used to this. He knows that he shouldn't, but he could. This sense of relative peace, the gentle domesticity of this moment. Dorian.
Laying in the water with Bull's hand against his knee, Dorian can't imagine a better way to spend his morning. His body feels relaxed and clean, and he's never been surer of his affections for anyone. Eventually, however, he makes himself sit up.
"You should go to breakfast," Dorian urges gently, lifting Bull's hand to press his lips to his knuckles. "Save me a seat beside you. I still have to make myself presentable."
Bull gets up carefully to spare his knee. It's still sore from last night and he doesn't want Dorian to worry.
"I'll see you in a little while." He brushes his fingers through the mage's hair as he passes. Bull gets dressed again in something comfortable and puts his brace on before he leaves the room. He runs into Vivienne along the way and talks quietly with her all the way to breakfast. Several other members of the Inquisition are there; apparently Cullen has already come and gone, but Josephine is enjoying a late breakfast.
Dorian drags himself out of the bath as Bull dresses, then bids him goodbye again with a kiss by the door, wearing nothing but a towel around his shoulders to catch the water dripping from his hair. With the lingering pressure of Bull's lips on his, it isn't difficult to go about preparing for the day, the focal point of which is the surprise he has kept for Bull for months now, since they were last in Val Royeaux together.
When he arrives downstairs at last, Dorian is dressed well, though not so elaborately as the night before. Rather than leather he wears simple cotton trousers beneath an elaborately embroidered silk robe, sleveless and tied at his waist by a thick belt. His eyes are bright and lively, highlighted by a generous amount of kohl lining, his mustache is curled impeccably, and there is a noticeable flush on his face, though in addition to hiding more than one bruise in the shape of Bull's mouth, his high collar prevents speculation as to how far that flush might continue. His hair is coiffed and his mustache curled impeccably, and he all but beams at Bull as he approaches.
"Good morning," he announces to the room at large. His fingers skate lightly across Bull's shoulders as he passes him on his way to take the seat on his opposite side. "I trust at least a little food has been saved for those of us who don't rise at the break of dawn?"
Bull's smile is mostly in his eye when he Dorian appears, but there's a warm hint of it across his mouth. He looks good, but of course he does. They're in the palace and he isn't surprised Dorian's taken as much time, if not more, than he does in Skyhold to look presentable.
Pleasant chills slide down his back as the mage's fingers brush along his shoulder before taking his seat.
Josephine looks up from her coffee and her pastries to say, "Plenty. The Empress - or the kitchens - are assuming we've worked up quite the appetite."
"They didn't even start serving it until an hour or two ago," Vivienne remarks. "Early risers had to wait."
"As they should," Dorian chuckles, and then greets each of the ladies in turn, engaging them in light conversation as he fills a plate. It's a truly decadent meal even for breakfast, but what else can one expect at the Winter Palace? He takes only a little of the richest foods, knowing his body well enough to avoid them so soon after waking. What remains is still significantly more variety than he could ever hope for at Skyhold, let alone while traveling.
He lays a hand briefly on Bull's arm when he settles back, giving him a smile that is very much just for him. But of course, both Josephine and Vivienne see this anyway.
"Lord Dorian," Josephine pipes up with a smile, "I was just telling the Iron Bull about how impressed I was by your dancing last night. It was the talk of the court for some time."
"And why shouldn't it be?" Dorian accepts the compliment with his typical humility--which is to say, none at all. "I'm an excellent dancer." Another glance at Bull, and another warm smile. "And the Bull proved a quite decent partner."
"Didn't even knock anyone over," he says with a warm rumble. He allows himself to give Dorian a fond look. It feels dangerous, somehow, to let himself do this here. Josephine and Vivienne know, of course, but there are more people here than just them, and they all know how servant-spies work.
Maybe it doesn't matter.
Maybe thinking that is dangerous.
Bull puts it out of his mind for now and eats while everyone else chats. He listens, of course, occasionally contributes, but for the most part he's happy to let the conversation go on without him.
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"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.
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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.
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"And to think, you get to sleep in," he teases warmly as his hand slides along Dorian's side.
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"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."
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"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."
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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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He's up before Dorian, but he doesn't try to move or free himself. Bull is afraid of how content he feels like this, how willing he is to stay like this - to stay with Dorian. This is a life he wants to get used to and a life that he knows he can't have. Struggle is an illusion: the Qun must come first, always, for his entire life to make sense.
It isn't hard to push all that from his mind, though. The morning light is soft and warm and he smiles faintly at the samm sound Dorian makes when he finally starts to wake.
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This morning, when he finally blinks awake, he smiles almost immediately and doesn't hesitate to lean in for a gentle good-morning kiss. If mornings could be like this forever he'd be pleased.
"So it wasn't all an elaborate dream," he observes sleepily. "Is it late?"
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"Did you sleep well?"
As far as Bull can tell, Dorian slept like a rock. The mage hadn't moved much and there had been no soft sounds to draw Bull out of his dozing.
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He leans over to kiss the space between both horns, settling his hands on Bull's shoulders. "And how did you sleep? It must have been nice to fit entirely on the bed for once."
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Which Bull knows isn't really a problem for Dorian. Once the mage starts moving, Bull rolls onto his back with a quiet groan. He adjusts the pillow beneath his head. He does miss his bolster, he should have considered bringing it.
Bull knows he should bathe, too, though he isn't sure he'll fit into the tub hiding behind the privacy screen.
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"It'll do," he declares with a sniff, as though it only just barely passes muster. A finger against the edge of the tub draws a fire glyph and the water is steaming again in seconds. "I'll ask them to bring something bigger later," he declares as he climbs in. "You should come and get washed up for now."
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"I'm not sure they have bigger."
He wets one of the wash cloths in the tub and starts dutifully scrubbing himself down. Bull takes his time, at least, appreciating the warm water and the fire on this side of the screen.
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From the tub, Dorian reaches a hand out to him, curling his fingers to gesture for the cloth. "Come here. I'll wash you." Bracing a hand on the edge, he gets to his feet. His skin sluices water, bright and golden in the morning sunlight. "And you can do the same for me, if you like."
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"I might," he says in a gentle rumble. "I did make a mess of you."
It's an intimate thing to have Dorian take over and Bull stands obediently still for the mage as he tends to him.
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He embraces Bull when he comes near enough, kissing his chest and then his lips and pressing his water warm body against him. But he does get to washing after that, taking soap and cloth in hand. He lathers and scrubs and rinses Bull's skin in turns, even rubs oil across his shoulders and into the drier skin at the base of his horns. It's as good a treatment as he can give without actually getting Bull in the bath.
"There," he pronounces at last, draping the cloth over the edge of the tub. "Decent at last." Certainly decent enough to merit another kiss, which he imparts with satisfaction.
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"Back down into the tub," he murmurs. "Your turn."
As Dorian sinks back into the water, Bull eases down onto his knees and picks up the cloth so that he can dutifully, tenderly return the favor. Bull lingers over muscles he knows must be sore.
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But he relaxes into Bull's touch quickly enough, sighing his appreciation as he not only washes, but digs his fingers into overworked muscles. "You know that I adore you?" He groans. "Even if you're often half the reason I'm sore in the first place."
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Bull works slowly and diligently, going so far as to gently massage Dorian's hands and feet before he's done. Then he turns to sit with his side against the tub, one arm in the water so he can keep touching Dorian.
He could get used to this. He knows that he shouldn't, but he could. This sense of relative peace, the gentle domesticity of this moment. Dorian.
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"You should go to breakfast," Dorian urges gently, lifting Bull's hand to press his lips to his knuckles. "Save me a seat beside you. I still have to make myself presentable."
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"I'll see you in a little while." He brushes his fingers through the mage's hair as he passes. Bull gets dressed again in something comfortable and puts his brace on before he leaves the room. He runs into Vivienne along the way and talks quietly with her all the way to breakfast. Several other members of the Inquisition are there; apparently Cullen has already come and gone, but Josephine is enjoying a late breakfast.
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When he arrives downstairs at last, Dorian is dressed well, though not so elaborately as the night before. Rather than leather he wears simple cotton trousers beneath an elaborately embroidered silk robe, sleveless and tied at his waist by a thick belt. His eyes are bright and lively, highlighted by a generous amount of kohl lining, his mustache is curled impeccably, and there is a noticeable flush on his face, though in addition to hiding more than one bruise in the shape of Bull's mouth, his high collar prevents speculation as to how far that flush might continue. His hair is coiffed and his mustache curled impeccably, and he all but beams at Bull as he approaches.
"Good morning," he announces to the room at large. His fingers skate lightly across Bull's shoulders as he passes him on his way to take the seat on his opposite side. "I trust at least a little food has been saved for those of us who don't rise at the break of dawn?"
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Pleasant chills slide down his back as the mage's fingers brush along his shoulder before taking his seat.
Josephine looks up from her coffee and her pastries to say, "Plenty. The Empress - or the kitchens - are assuming we've worked up quite the appetite."
"They didn't even start serving it until an hour or two ago," Vivienne remarks. "Early risers had to wait."
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He lays a hand briefly on Bull's arm when he settles back, giving him a smile that is very much just for him. But of course, both Josephine and Vivienne see this anyway.
"Lord Dorian," Josephine pipes up with a smile, "I was just telling the Iron Bull about how impressed I was by your dancing last night. It was the talk of the court for some time."
"And why shouldn't it be?" Dorian accepts the compliment with his typical humility--which is to say, none at all. "I'm an excellent dancer." Another glance at Bull, and another warm smile. "And the Bull proved a quite decent partner."
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Maybe it doesn't matter.
Maybe thinking that is dangerous.
Bull puts it out of his mind for now and eats while everyone else chats. He listens, of course, occasionally contributes, but for the most part he's happy to let the conversation go on without him.
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