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.
As far as Dorian is concerned, he'd made his statement last night. He'd kissed Bull in the middle of a crowded hallway and then danced with him for hours after. There's no denying how special he is to him.
He talks enough throughout the meal to more than make up for the Bull's relative quiet. But beneath the table, his leg jostles restlessly, and his foot continually bumps Bull's as though he can't be without contact for too long. Both Vivienne and Josephine eventually depart to begin their day, doubtlessly both doing far more important work than either Dorian or Bull are slated for--which doesn't take much, as they've both been left to their own devices today.
When the two of them are more or less alone and Dorian's plate is more or less empty, he turns slowly, carefully in his chair to look at Bull properly. He'd made some mention of wanting to spend the day together, but for things to work out as he wants, he has to be certain. "I'd thought of walking the gardens and seeing the library today," he says. "Will you join me?"
At some point during the meal, Bull lets his hand fall to rest on Dorian's thigh, wondering if more contact might soothe whatever has the mage so restless. He leaves his hand there for a while, even as Vivienne and Josephine make their excuses and leave.
He sits back and moves his hand so he can drape his arm around the back of Dorian's chair instead.
"Mmhm. I'm at your disposal today," he answers. No one includes mercenaries on peace talks and whatever else is happening today, so Bull is more or less cut loose until they need to return to Skyhold or some other pressing matter catches the Inquisitor's attention.
The weight of Bull's hand helped a little, but being reassured of his companionship today does more to settle whatever nerves have Dorian on edge. He smiles, leaning back in his chair just to feel Bull's arm behind him.
"At my disposal, are you? Then I suppose I'll keep you to myself all day," he threatens. Even after more than a year of knowing him, being friends with him for more than half of that, and lovers for going on six months, he's still delighted that Bull chooses to spend so much time with him outside of the bedroom.
Dorian had decided last night that he wants this enough to pursue it, but that doesn't mean he thinks it wise. But he loves Bull already; trusts him. He'll be heartbroken no matter when or how this ends. He might as well do what he can now. "I've heard that the portrait gallery is on the way to the library," he comments. "Won't you join me as it criticize Orlesian fashion through the ages?"
Bull chuckles and brushes his fingers along Dorian's arm. "Yes," he answers. "I think I will join you."
More than anything, it's an excuse to spend time with Dorian, to listen to him provide snarky commentary about every portrait they pass. To watch his eyes light up and his mouth curve with amusement at his own cleverness, or maybe at the look Bull gets on his face. He is enamored and there's no way around it.
He might as well enjoy it while he can.
"Come on, big guy."
Bull gets up with a quiet grunt and then offers Dorian his hand.
Dorian puts his hand in Bull's and allows him to help him up. His smile strains tight for a moment, then relaxes. "All right. Give me your arm, then. We'll do this properly."
As if they hadn't created enough of a scandal last night. But there aren't many who'd stayed in the palace over night, and fewer still who are likely to see them. In truth, Dorian just likes the idea of being close--and of being with Bull in a way that is evident and visible. As Bull had pointed out previously, he likes to show off.
They set out together with Dorian strolling at an exceptionally leisurely pace. It's clear that he's going to indulge in having no obligations and an entire palace at his fingertips to both explore and mock. He does plenty of the latter, certainly, as they make their way through the halls of the guest quarters with its vaulted ceilings and marble statues.
He'd been very close to the grand library where he'd been stationed last night in the gardens, and it had irked him that he couldn't go see it. He won't miss the chance today. Before that, however, is the hall of portraits, where he walks still more slowly so that he can pause at each one to make a snide comment or point out a ridiculous detail to Bull. Dorian is clearly in an exceptionally good mood, bright-eyed and loose-limbed and smiling constantly, though he occasionally stutters or gasps under his breath or grasps Bull's arm a little more tightly before continuing.
Bull doesn't mind Dorian showing him off; there are courtiers still around, even if many went back to their own homes for the night. Court will never be empty. But they find plenty of quite, unpopulated places, including the portrait gallery. Dorian makes him laugh, and the bright look in the mage's eyes is enchanting, as is his smile.
But he can't help but notice the way Dorian's breath catches now and then, or the way his grip tightens.
At some point, maybe three quarters of the way down the gallery, Bull pulls Dorian closer.
Though Dorian had been entirely aware that Bull would notice eventually--counting on it, in fact--he hadn't expected for him to show so much concern. It's too soon, far too soon; while Dorian is well aware that he can't possibly make it through the whole day, he still wants to make more of it than this, and to impress Bull later with his patience and dedication.
Still, Bull's concern is incredibly touching. He feels his heart fill to bursting every time Bull makes it clear how much he really cares for him. "I'm fine, amatus," he assures gratefully, laying a hand on his chest. His tongue tingles like using that word is some kind of magic unto itself. He'd said it more than once last night, but he'd been quite tipsy then. He's entirely sober now. "In fact, I'm wonderful."
He doesn't offer any further explanation, trusting Bull to trust him.
Bull's concern lingers, but he trusts Dorian to know himself. He leans down to kiss the mage, to taste the sweetness of that word on Dorian's lips.
"Alright," he rumbles quietly. "Then I believe you were saying something about the Marquis over here."
His hand smooths down Dorian's back, offering contact and support if he needs it. Maybe he's still worn out from the night before - Bull is still sore from the fighting, but it's aches that he's used to.
It's elating to be able to kiss Bull in the halls of the Winter Palace in the bright morning light and not feel a moment of uncertainty about it. There's a perfection to this moment he never could have anticipated, and something twists in his chest.
"That's right," Dorian brightens. "Oh, Bull, you should have seen the Marquis in the gardens last night. He was wearing nearly the same thing, and this portrait is from the Exalted Age."
Though he doesn't need it, he leans into Bull's touch anyway as the continue through the gallery. Around the corner is one of the side entrances to the library, which Dorian intends to investigate thoroughly.
Bull takes some pleasure in watching Dorian investigate the library. He follows at a slower pace, allowing himself to be distracted by a history here or a novel there, but for the most part he's content to listen to Dorian gripe or praise as it suits him, enjoying the rise and fall of his voice, the disapproving or surprised sounds that escape him.
He loses track of the mage for a minute and finds him again tucked near a window with a book, practically an echo of his posing at Skyhold. Bull smiles and leans carefully on one of the massive, sturdy bookcases.
The Winter Palace's grand library is enormous. Rooms upon rooms stacked floor to vaulted ceiling with books, with art on display ranging from tasteful to what Dorian terms "tastefully Orlesian," which is decidedly less so. There are long reading tables and out of the way nooks with couches and chairs, and everything is draped in deep royal blue.
It is by far the most extensive library Dorian has seen since leaving Tevinter, and he revels in it. He could easily spend all day--all week!--here if he isn't careful. Though he definitely loses Bull at one point, he doesn't worry about it. Bull has had his eye caught by something himself, no doubt; there are books on nearly every topic imaginable, and plenty else to look at besides.
They're reunited soon enough anyway as Dorian skims through a book. He glances up to find Bull watching him with a smile on his lips, which brings one to Dorian's in turn. "A volume on Tevinter history during the Exalted Age," he explains. "I know all of it already, of course, but I'll admit to some morbid curiosity as to what they print on the subject here in the Empire."
Bull leaves the bookcase so that he can close to distance between them. He looms over Dorian, planting a hand on the wall behind him to pin the mage in. It's entirely unnecessary, but it puts him in a good position to take a kiss.
"You should see what they write about Qunari," he rumbles quietly. "I can't decide if it's more creative than what the Vints right, or just more romantic."
He grins and takes another kiss, pleased by the freedom to do so.
Entirely unnecessary it may be, but that doesn't mean it's unwelcome. Dorian smirks up at Bull as he moves in close, deliberately leaning back against the wall to box himself in before his lips are caught in a kiss. He settles the hand not holding his book at Bull's waist and returns the kiss with an enthusiasm that perhaps isn't completely appropriate in a public place. It doesn't diminish for the second kiss Bull steals, either. Can he be blamed for it? He's never been allowed this before.
"Oh, I would venture a guess that the Imperium has set the bar for creative content about Qunari," he chuckles. "I'm sure you can imagine the propaganda I was fed from childhood. Much of it is ridiculous enough to discount as untrue simply by virtue of critical thinking, and still more I have been able to now discount through first-hand experience."
Dorian's head tilts as he raises a curious brow. "I'm sure your people have their share of interesting ideas about mine as well."
Oh, he doesn't mind that a bit. Having been denied the experience of clandestine kisses shared in libraries up until now, Dorian would gladly let Bull's mouth linger over his for as long as he cares to keep it there. He still holds his book in one hand, but his grip on it is loose now, so much that he can feel the pages sliding against his fingers.
But no, Bull means to tease him, and in more ways than one. He knows how he must look with his lips parted and his eyes dark and wide as the rough pad of Bull's thumb follows the line of his jaw. They're close enough for him to feel the rumble of his voice when he lowers it. He should have known he'd latch onto this subject to remind Dorian of the more tumultuous and embarrassing start to their acquaintanceship. How many months had he watched Bull with a frustrating concoction of lust and fear and mistrust churning in his gut before he started regarding Bull as a man rather than just a Qunari spy?
And he's glad that Bull can tease him about it now, that he hadn't been offended. Because no small part of Dorian is ashamed of himself for having bought into his country's lies yet another time, and for allowing that influence to make him treat Bull as anything less than the wonderful, intelligent, kind, thoughtful man he is.
"I--" Dorian stammers, swallowing hard as his face heats and he levels upward a familiar accusatory scowl that means his feathers have been ruffled. Just because he now acknowledges that the basis for those fantasies is incorrect doesn't mean that they don't still appeal to him. "I am truly glad to have amused you, Iron Bull. But surely a self-exiled altus of Tevinter could be expected to harbor some deviant interests." Dorian's scowl deepens, though it resembles more of a pout. "Not that I'm admitting to any such thing, mind you."
He looks absolutely irresistible. Even the scowl Dorian musters is attractive, if only because Bull knows there isn't too much bite behind it. Bull doesn't harbor any ill-will, regardless of how their now-friendship started. Dorian was relatively fresh from Tevinter and had no reason to trust him, a self-confessed Qunari spy. Their early days had been spent feeling each other out before Bull started truly flirting every time Dorian tried to poke at him.
Way more fun than going back and forth with Solas.
"Of course not," he murmurs as he tips Dorian's head, giving him access to more of his neck. Bull trails a few kisses down the exposed skin before he lifts his head again. He doesn't let go of Dorian's chin, though. "Well-bred Vint like you? Can't imagine any deviance there."
Bull grins and kisses Dorian again, this time leaning the mage into the wall and gently pinning him there. Dorian knows the word to make him stop if this is too much or simply not the place, and he knows, hopefully, that Bull will truly stop in an instant if that's what Dorian wanted.
On any other day it might have been too much. Dorian falls still as Bull backs him against the wall, as his mouth explores his neck, close enough that the sound of his voice makes him shudder. It's everything about this--the way he's pinned, the controlled strength of the grip on his chin, Bull's words, his sheer size. So when he's kissed Dorian yields with a muffled groan. Clutching at Bull, he lets the book slip from his fingers with a thunk and a ruffle of pages as it hits the floor.
If he weren't feeling so emboldened by their display last night and the kisses they've shared today, or if he hadn't already been on the verge of outright arousal since this morning, he certainly wouldn't allow this. But all of these things are true, and the word that could stop this remains unspoken.
"Of course not," he murmurs between them. "I am the very picture of propriety, and here you are publicly debauching me." The hand at Bull's hips squeezes, undeniably drawing him closer. "As one might expect from a Qunari brute."
Bull is ready to pull back when he feels Dorian pulling at his hips. He growls quietly - the perfect Qunari brute - and reaches down to hook his hands under Dorian's thighs. It takes nothing to lift him, keeping the mage's back pinned against the wall as he meets Dorian in another sharp kiss.
He knows he should probably be more careful. Dorian might be feeling bold, but there's nothing to say he won't stop feeling that way. For once, Bull doesn't know exactly where the line is and he knows that he's escalating things rather quickly.
But it feels good to have Dorian pressed against his chest, to feel his hands grabbing at grey, vitaar-patterned skin like he can't get enough. And there is part of him that likes that all of this is happening in a very fine royal library. He's thought of doing this at Skyhold a dozen times.
"Oh," Dorian inhales sharply as he's lifted, but has that breath stolen away again just as quickly by another kiss. Disconnected from the ground and with nothing but Bull to steady him, Dorian's head spins with the onset of a very intense desire. His skin feels too hot beneath his layers, even light as they are, and when his legs shift around Bull's waist he shivers, overwhelmed by a concentrated rush of pleasure.
Maker, is he really going to let this happen here? Now, in the middle of the day, in some corner of the Winter Palace's grand library? What will happen if they're caught? Apart from Josephine having both their heads, of course--that's a given.
He wants this. He finds the idea so appealing it's almost ridiculous, and his heart races in his chest. But he doesn't know if he can do it. He may be feeling bold, but this is much more than a few stolen kisses. "Bull," he whispers breathlessly, "we can't be seen." It's a plea, but not yet one to stop.
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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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He talks enough throughout the meal to more than make up for the Bull's relative quiet. But beneath the table, his leg jostles restlessly, and his foot continually bumps Bull's as though he can't be without contact for too long. Both Vivienne and Josephine eventually depart to begin their day, doubtlessly both doing far more important work than either Dorian or Bull are slated for--which doesn't take much, as they've both been left to their own devices today.
When the two of them are more or less alone and Dorian's plate is more or less empty, he turns slowly, carefully in his chair to look at Bull properly. He'd made some mention of wanting to spend the day together, but for things to work out as he wants, he has to be certain. "I'd thought of walking the gardens and seeing the library today," he says. "Will you join me?"
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He sits back and moves his hand so he can drape his arm around the back of Dorian's chair instead.
"Mmhm. I'm at your disposal today," he answers. No one includes mercenaries on peace talks and whatever else is happening today, so Bull is more or less cut loose until they need to return to Skyhold or some other pressing matter catches the Inquisitor's attention.
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"At my disposal, are you? Then I suppose I'll keep you to myself all day," he threatens. Even after more than a year of knowing him, being friends with him for more than half of that, and lovers for going on six months, he's still delighted that Bull chooses to spend so much time with him outside of the bedroom.
Dorian had decided last night that he wants this enough to pursue it, but that doesn't mean he thinks it wise. But he loves Bull already; trusts him. He'll be heartbroken no matter when or how this ends. He might as well do what he can now. "I've heard that the portrait gallery is on the way to the library," he comments. "Won't you join me as it criticize Orlesian fashion through the ages?"
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More than anything, it's an excuse to spend time with Dorian, to listen to him provide snarky commentary about every portrait they pass. To watch his eyes light up and his mouth curve with amusement at his own cleverness, or maybe at the look Bull gets on his face. He is enamored and there's no way around it.
He might as well enjoy it while he can.
"Come on, big guy."
Bull gets up with a quiet grunt and then offers Dorian his hand.
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As if they hadn't created enough of a scandal last night. But there aren't many who'd stayed in the palace over night, and fewer still who are likely to see them. In truth, Dorian just likes the idea of being close--and of being with Bull in a way that is evident and visible. As Bull had pointed out previously, he likes to show off.
They set out together with Dorian strolling at an exceptionally leisurely pace. It's clear that he's going to indulge in having no obligations and an entire palace at his fingertips to both explore and mock. He does plenty of the latter, certainly, as they make their way through the halls of the guest quarters with its vaulted ceilings and marble statues.
He'd been very close to the grand library where he'd been stationed last night in the gardens, and it had irked him that he couldn't go see it. He won't miss the chance today. Before that, however, is the hall of portraits, where he walks still more slowly so that he can pause at each one to make a snide comment or point out a ridiculous detail to Bull. Dorian is clearly in an exceptionally good mood, bright-eyed and loose-limbed and smiling constantly, though he occasionally stutters or gasps under his breath or grasps Bull's arm a little more tightly before continuing.
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But he can't help but notice the way Dorian's breath catches now and then, or the way his grip tightens.
At some point, maybe three quarters of the way down the gallery, Bull pulls Dorian closer.
"Are you alright?"
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Still, Bull's concern is incredibly touching. He feels his heart fill to bursting every time Bull makes it clear how much he really cares for him. "I'm fine, amatus," he assures gratefully, laying a hand on his chest. His tongue tingles like using that word is some kind of magic unto itself. He'd said it more than once last night, but he'd been quite tipsy then. He's entirely sober now. "In fact, I'm wonderful."
He doesn't offer any further explanation, trusting Bull to trust him.
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"Alright," he rumbles quietly. "Then I believe you were saying something about the Marquis over here."
His hand smooths down Dorian's back, offering contact and support if he needs it. Maybe he's still worn out from the night before - Bull is still sore from the fighting, but it's aches that he's used to.
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"That's right," Dorian brightens. "Oh, Bull, you should have seen the Marquis in the gardens last night. He was wearing nearly the same thing, and this portrait is from the Exalted Age."
Though he doesn't need it, he leans into Bull's touch anyway as the continue through the gallery. Around the corner is one of the side entrances to the library, which Dorian intends to investigate thoroughly.
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He loses track of the mage for a minute and finds him again tucked near a window with a book, practically an echo of his posing at Skyhold. Bull smiles and leans carefully on one of the massive, sturdy bookcases.
"Find something of interest?"
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It is by far the most extensive library Dorian has seen since leaving Tevinter, and he revels in it. He could easily spend all day--all week!--here if he isn't careful. Though he definitely loses Bull at one point, he doesn't worry about it. Bull has had his eye caught by something himself, no doubt; there are books on nearly every topic imaginable, and plenty else to look at besides.
They're reunited soon enough anyway as Dorian skims through a book. He glances up to find Bull watching him with a smile on his lips, which brings one to Dorian's in turn. "A volume on Tevinter history during the Exalted Age," he explains. "I know all of it already, of course, but I'll admit to some morbid curiosity as to what they print on the subject here in the Empire."
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"You should see what they write about Qunari," he rumbles quietly. "I can't decide if it's more creative than what the Vints right, or just more romantic."
He grins and takes another kiss, pleased by the freedom to do so.
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"Oh, I would venture a guess that the Imperium has set the bar for creative content about Qunari," he chuckles. "I'm sure you can imagine the propaganda I was fed from childhood. Much of it is ridiculous enough to discount as untrue simply by virtue of critical thinking, and still more I have been able to now discount through first-hand experience."
Dorian's head tilts as he raises a curious brow. "I'm sure your people have their share of interesting ideas about mine as well."
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"Mm," he hums his agreement. "I read and heard all kinds of interesting things about the Vints before I ever saw one."
His thumb brushes along Dorian's jaw. It's dangerous, what he feels right now. Bull knows that it is but he doesn't want to stop.
"And I know exactly what you read about us. Imagine my surprise when I realized how much you liked the ideas meant to terrify you"
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But no, Bull means to tease him, and in more ways than one. He knows how he must look with his lips parted and his eyes dark and wide as the rough pad of Bull's thumb follows the line of his jaw. They're close enough for him to feel the rumble of his voice when he lowers it. He should have known he'd latch onto this subject to remind Dorian of the more tumultuous and embarrassing start to their acquaintanceship. How many months had he watched Bull with a frustrating concoction of lust and fear and mistrust churning in his gut before he started regarding Bull as a man rather than just a Qunari spy?
And he's glad that Bull can tease him about it now, that he hadn't been offended. Because no small part of Dorian is ashamed of himself for having bought into his country's lies yet another time, and for allowing that influence to make him treat Bull as anything less than the wonderful, intelligent, kind, thoughtful man he is.
"I--" Dorian stammers, swallowing hard as his face heats and he levels upward a familiar accusatory scowl that means his feathers have been ruffled. Just because he now acknowledges that the basis for those fantasies is incorrect doesn't mean that they don't still appeal to him. "I am truly glad to have amused you, Iron Bull. But surely a self-exiled altus of Tevinter could be expected to harbor some deviant interests." Dorian's scowl deepens, though it resembles more of a pout. "Not that I'm admitting to any such thing, mind you."
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Way more fun than going back and forth with Solas.
"Of course not," he murmurs as he tips Dorian's head, giving him access to more of his neck. Bull trails a few kisses down the exposed skin before he lifts his head again. He doesn't let go of Dorian's chin, though. "Well-bred Vint like you? Can't imagine any deviance there."
Bull grins and kisses Dorian again, this time leaning the mage into the wall and gently pinning him there. Dorian knows the word to make him stop if this is too much or simply not the place, and he knows, hopefully, that Bull will truly stop in an instant if that's what Dorian wanted.
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If he weren't feeling so emboldened by their display last night and the kisses they've shared today, or if he hadn't already been on the verge of outright arousal since this morning, he certainly wouldn't allow this. But all of these things are true, and the word that could stop this remains unspoken.
"Of course not," he murmurs between them. "I am the very picture of propriety, and here you are publicly debauching me." The hand at Bull's hips squeezes, undeniably drawing him closer. "As one might expect from a Qunari brute."
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He knows he should probably be more careful. Dorian might be feeling bold, but there's nothing to say he won't stop feeling that way. For once, Bull doesn't know exactly where the line is and he knows that he's escalating things rather quickly.
But it feels good to have Dorian pressed against his chest, to feel his hands grabbing at grey, vitaar-patterned skin like he can't get enough. And there is part of him that likes that all of this is happening in a very fine royal library. He's thought of doing this at Skyhold a dozen times.
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Maker, is he really going to let this happen here? Now, in the middle of the day, in some corner of the Winter Palace's grand library? What will happen if they're caught? Apart from Josephine having both their heads, of course--that's a given.
He wants this. He finds the idea so appealing it's almost ridiculous, and his heart races in his chest. But he doesn't know if he can do it. He may be feeling bold, but this is much more than a few stolen kisses. "Bull," he whispers breathlessly, "we can't be seen." It's a plea, but not yet one to stop.
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