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.
His heart is already pounding, reacting to how pliant and responsive Dorian is. Bull makes a low sound when he feels Dorian's thighs tighten against his waist. There will never be a point of no return for him, but it is becoming increasingly difficult to think about stopping.
And then Dorian speaks, quiet and breathless in the close space between them. It isn't what he expected. It isn't gentle insistence that they make it back to their room, but only a plea not to be caught. Bull slowly, carefully lets Dorian slide back to the floor and catches his hand. He's gentle as he guides the mage through the stacks, until he finds a sheltered alcove that looks like it isn't visited often.
He lets Dorian look around for the sake of his approval, then sweeps him into another kiss. There's even a sturdy-looking table if Dorian doesn't want to be up against the wall.
It takes a moment for Dorian to feel steady on his own legs immediately after Bull lets him down. For a moment he thinks this will be the end of it, and the disappointment he feels at that makes his decision for him. Thankfully Bull seems to be thinking much the same way, because he doesn't urge a long walk back to their own room in the guest wing, but leads him to a more secluded nook. Not as bright nor as obvious, but equally thrilling. Dorian likes the possibility that they could be caught, but he doesn't actually want to be.
With no objections, he allows himself to be kissed again, and returns it with equal fervor. That table is tempting--the missed opportunity of the kitchen table last night comes to mind--but is liable to make noise if he lays down on it. Instead, Dorian merely turns to braces a hand on the edge, directing an impatient and heated look at Bull over his shoulder.
"Quickly then," he urges. He hadn't anticipated doing this--how could he?--but his fine by simple outfit today had been chosen for easy access, given his plans for later. There is no leather, no complicated sets of ties or buckles; just linen robes easily flipped up and the soft leggings and silk smallclothes he wears beneath. "Insatiable creature," he grumbles, playing the part of haughty and put-upon noble quite well despite aching for this just as much, evidenced by the way his cock has already begun to fill.
Bull allows himself a moment to appreciate the view he has as Dorian leans over the table. He moves closer to move the robe out of the way and groans in quiet relief when he realizes everything Dorian is wearing is relatively simple. It takes nothing to get his hose and smallclothes down around his knees.
"I'm not the one bent over a table," he rumbles warmly as he finds a vial he keeps with him. Bull slicks his fingers, but when he reaches to slide his fingers over Dorian's hole--
He tips his head, trying to get a better view.
"Dorian?"
He has only one guess as to what the mage has down and his cock aches at the possibility.
For every brush of Bull's fingers as he hikes up his robes and tugs down what's under them, Dorian's breathing grows faster, heavier. Partly from anticipation, of course, and from his own desire, but also because Bull is about to discover what he's been keeping from him all day now. It's well and good that he has his own oil, that he slicks his fingers, but ultimately it's quite useless. Dorian is already quite full and well-stretched around a smooth wooden plug of a size thick enough to make accommodating Bull's cock relatively easy. This certainly accounts for his distraction at certain points.
The way Bull says his name has him curling his fingers against the hard wood of the table. He swallows hard, feels his face heating up. He'd thought--no, he'd known--that Bull would like it, but he hadn't imagined the reveal going quite like this.
"You won't be needing your fingers, Bull," he says; an understatement. "Just--slowly, please. I've worn it since this morning." Despite planning this particular surprise himself, saying that aloud is more embarrassing than he'd expected. "Then give it here and get on with it." He extends a hand behind him palm up, wiggling his fingers.
Bull says something in rough, heavy Qunlat when Dorian confesses to have been wearing it all day. He's gentle as he eases the plug out, switching to Tevene for the sweetness he starts whispering. He sets the plug in Dorian's waiting hand and uses the oil left on his fingers to slick his cock.
He guides himself and he moves slowly as he pushes in, not prepared to push Dorian past what he can take. Bull's breath catches as he sinks in. His voice is heavy as he breathes Dorian's name. One hand braces against the table and, as soon as he's far enough, the other slides to rest on Dorian's hip.
"I can't believe you," he breathes, voice still full of praise.
Bull's reaction is everything he could have hoped for. His praise and sweet words build him up, make him feel proud and clever rather than at all embarrassed. He closes his hand around the base of the plug and holds on to it, bracing himself against the table again as Bull's oiled cock presses to his stretched rim, and then eases into him without any difficulty. There's still a notable stretch--he certainly couldn't have worn a plug that was exactly Bull's size all day--but nothing that impedes their progress, and nothing that Dorian doesn't thoroughly enjoy. His teeth sink into his lower lip to prevent himself from moaning outright as Bull seats himself completely inside him, the rough fabric of his trousers brushing the back of Dorian's bare thighs.
Truly, there is no feeling like being full of the Bull's cock. He feels light-headed with it, nerves alight and tingling all the way down to the base of his spine, arched back to help Bull achieve an easy angle and guided by the huge, warm hand covering his hip. Bull sounds like he's in awe.
"I got it in Val Royeaux," he confesses quietly once he can trust himself to speak again. "Months ago. I knew you'd like it."
Bull presses his hand flat to the table, leaning over Dorian as the angle of their bodies shifts just so. He shivers; the table is relatively tall and that slight change puts Dorian at a perfect angle. For now he's slow, luxuriating in how easy it is to fuck Dorian like this.
"You were right."
But he knows they shouldn't linger here, that they can't. He slides his free hand down to wrap it around Dorian's cock, not so much stroking as holding, offering friction whenever Dorian's hips move.
He leans lower, lets his lips brush over the back of Dorian's neck as he moves harder, faster.
Having been near to aroused all day, it takes very little to get Dorian going now. His eyes slide closed as Bull fucks into him, wasting no time. As much as Dorian would like to draw this out, he knows this isn't the place to do it. They have a whole luxurious suite for that. So as Bull moves faster, so does he, meeting his thrusts with an easy roll of his hips each time.
Remarkable really, how they can fall into a rhythm like this so easily. They know one another's bodies so well by now that it's second-nature to find the pace and the angle that feels best for both of them. Dorian muffles his own ragged gasps against the back of his wrist as he grinds forward into Bull's hand and backward onto his cock. He knows already that he won't last like this. He's been itching for it all day, for something like this just to take the edge off. And Bull is so very good to him, always giving him exactly what he needs. And the added thrill of doing this where anyone could find them makes it nearly too much. Dorian is flushed and panting after little more than a minute or two, his cock dripping steadily over Bull's fingers.
"Bull," he sighs, half muffled against his forearm, "you have to put it back in after you spill in me. We can't make a mess here."
Bull groans when Dorian tells him that. He hadn't even thought that far ahead - unusual for him - and now all he can think about is Dorian full of his seed and keeping it there. He shudders and thrusts harder, deeper. He doesn't have stamina on his side, not after the surprise Dorian's given him. And especially not if he's going to keep saying things like that.
"Don't hold back," he murmurs, voice heavy and thick as he grinds deep. Bull pushes himself up and curses in Qunlat when he finally comes. He doesn't stop, intent on seeing Dorian to his end before they part. His hand works now, stroking in time with every thrust.
Dorian doesn't have to be told. He'd been on the edge anyway, and Bull feeling spilling in him, fucking him through it, pushes him over. His teeth sink into his wrist to muffle his cry as he comes into Bull's hand, heat blazing through him and whiting out the edges of his vision.
It takes him several long minutes to come back to himself afterward, where his body feels hazy and heavy. He leans forward onto the table, resting the warm skin of his forehead against the cool wood. He breathes slowly, deeply, trying to calm his racing heart.
Maker, they'd really just done that.
With still quivering fingers he reaches back wordlessly to hand the plug off to Bull. He hadn't planned it this way, but something about Bull plugging him up again makes his stomach twist pleasantly.
Bull takes the plug as he pulls out. He's quick to replace his cock, pushing the plug in slowly to let Dorian get used to the change. He leans low to brush a kiss over the mage's shoulder.
"Come on," he murmurs. "Let's get you back to bed."
Bull wants to offer to carry Dorian, but that might be a step too far. As it is, he helps Dorian cover up again, regaining as much dignity as either of them can. And once they're both covered, he coaxes Dorian to face him so he can gather him close in a kiss.
"You wicked thing," he murmurs, sounding downright tender as he admires the glow Dorian gets in the aftermath.
Despite how full the plug had been making him feel all day, the switch back to it from Bull's cock makes it more than evident that it had been a very relative feeling. That he now feels strangely unfulfilled by it makes it clearer to him than ever that Bull truly has ruined him for other men. Yet he can't possibly care, because he doesn't intend to have anyone else anyway. Not for as long as Bull will have him.
With that in mind, the idea of going back to bed is an appealing one. Carrying might prove too much, but Dorian certainly accepts another kiss after he's all in order again. He knows he must still be gleaming with sweat, but after he reflexively comes his fingers through his hair and re-curls his moustache, he's confident that he looks presentable. He has plenty of experience putting himself back together after quick, clandestine trysts--though not such public ones.
"First I should like to go back for the book I was reading before you interrupted," he grumbles, even as he inwardly preens at Bull's admiration.
Bull huffs when Dorian mentions the book. But he relents and follows after the mage so he can recover the book, at least. He stays close to Dorian as they make their way back to the guest wing, taking a more direct route than the one they used to get to the library in the first place. He keeps a hand low on Dorian's back, distracted by what he knows.
As soon as they're back in Dorian's room, the Bull sweeps Dorian into his arms and into a kiss. It takes nothing to carry him back toward the bed, offering some relief from all the walking Dorian's been doing while full.
Despite Bull's grumbling, Dorian does indeed make it a point to return to collect that book, still laying on the floor where he'd dropped it. It promises to be entertaining and he'd like to have it for later, should he and Bull ever manage to get their hands off each other.
It doesn't seem like that will be happening any time soon. Bull's touch lingers throughout the walk back to their room and Dorian isn't surprised when he picks him up again as soon as he has the chance. Dorian's arms go around him in return, settling around his neck. He doesn't let go even when he's lowered to the bed, grasping Bull's horns at the base to pull him along with him and into an impatient, searing kiss.
Rather than satisfying anything, it's as though their tryst in the library had merely whetted his appetite. The plug stretches him well, but not well enough, and he is still full of the Bull's seed. His clothes feel too heavy, but he isn't willing to release Bull's horns to begin removing them, too absorbed in the needy, impatient press of their mouths.
Bull hums his quiet approval as Dorian keeps a tight grip on his horns. He could pull away if he pressed the issue, but he doesn't, content to have Dorian directing him by the head. He meets every kiss with building fervor and remembers he can do two things at once: he works on getting Dorian out of his trousers and his boots. They'll have to pull apart to get him out of everything else, but that can wait.
He reaches down to catch the edge of the plug, to draw it back just enough to give it a gentle push back in, as if Dorian needs the reminder of what he could have. Through it all, he manages to keep kissing Dorian, until both of them are breathless.
It's a good thing that Bull remembers this ability, because Dorian is preoccupied enough not to think about it. His thumbs rub at the base of Bull's horns as they kiss, applying exactly the amount of pressure he knows Bull to enjoy, as the grip of his fingers keeps his qunari lover's mouth just where he wants it: namely, on his own. He's cooperative enough to lift his hips and stretch his legs out when required, but beyond that he moves very little.
What shocks him out of the warm, hazy stupor their extended kissing had lulled him into is the rocking of the plug inside him. His lips leave Bull's as he gasps, and a shudder runs down the length of his spine, a feeling the settles heavily in his lower belly. The movement and the hint of a more satisfying stretch prompt him to part his thighs to give Bull more space, even as sweat collects beneath the collar of the robes they haven't yet been able to remove. Half-dressed like this, he feels even more debauched than if he'd been entirely unclothed.
"Surely you don't intend to leave that there," he murmurs between them, unconscious of the borderline desperate edge to his playful words.
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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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And then Dorian speaks, quiet and breathless in the close space between them. It isn't what he expected. It isn't gentle insistence that they make it back to their room, but only a plea not to be caught. Bull slowly, carefully lets Dorian slide back to the floor and catches his hand. He's gentle as he guides the mage through the stacks, until he finds a sheltered alcove that looks like it isn't visited often.
He lets Dorian look around for the sake of his approval, then sweeps him into another kiss. There's even a sturdy-looking table if Dorian doesn't want to be up against the wall.
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With no objections, he allows himself to be kissed again, and returns it with equal fervor. That table is tempting--the missed opportunity of the kitchen table last night comes to mind--but is liable to make noise if he lays down on it. Instead, Dorian merely turns to braces a hand on the edge, directing an impatient and heated look at Bull over his shoulder.
"Quickly then," he urges. He hadn't anticipated doing this--how could he?--but his fine by simple outfit today had been chosen for easy access, given his plans for later. There is no leather, no complicated sets of ties or buckles; just linen robes easily flipped up and the soft leggings and silk smallclothes he wears beneath. "Insatiable creature," he grumbles, playing the part of haughty and put-upon noble quite well despite aching for this just as much, evidenced by the way his cock has already begun to fill.
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"I'm not the one bent over a table," he rumbles warmly as he finds a vial he keeps with him. Bull slicks his fingers, but when he reaches to slide his fingers over Dorian's hole--
He tips his head, trying to get a better view.
"Dorian?"
He has only one guess as to what the mage has down and his cock aches at the possibility.
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The way Bull says his name has him curling his fingers against the hard wood of the table. He swallows hard, feels his face heating up. He'd thought--no, he'd known--that Bull would like it, but he hadn't imagined the reveal going quite like this.
"You won't be needing your fingers, Bull," he says; an understatement. "Just--slowly, please. I've worn it since this morning." Despite planning this particular surprise himself, saying that aloud is more embarrassing than he'd expected. "Then give it here and get on with it." He extends a hand behind him palm up, wiggling his fingers.
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He guides himself and he moves slowly as he pushes in, not prepared to push Dorian past what he can take. Bull's breath catches as he sinks in. His voice is heavy as he breathes Dorian's name. One hand braces against the table and, as soon as he's far enough, the other slides to rest on Dorian's hip.
"I can't believe you," he breathes, voice still full of praise.
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Truly, there is no feeling like being full of the Bull's cock. He feels light-headed with it, nerves alight and tingling all the way down to the base of his spine, arched back to help Bull achieve an easy angle and guided by the huge, warm hand covering his hip. Bull sounds like he's in awe.
"I got it in Val Royeaux," he confesses quietly once he can trust himself to speak again. "Months ago. I knew you'd like it."
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"You were right."
But he knows they shouldn't linger here, that they can't. He slides his free hand down to wrap it around Dorian's cock, not so much stroking as holding, offering friction whenever Dorian's hips move.
He leans lower, lets his lips brush over the back of Dorian's neck as he moves harder, faster.
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Remarkable really, how they can fall into a rhythm like this so easily. They know one another's bodies so well by now that it's second-nature to find the pace and the angle that feels best for both of them. Dorian muffles his own ragged gasps against the back of his wrist as he grinds forward into Bull's hand and backward onto his cock. He knows already that he won't last like this. He's been itching for it all day, for something like this just to take the edge off. And Bull is so very good to him, always giving him exactly what he needs. And the added thrill of doing this where anyone could find them makes it nearly too much. Dorian is flushed and panting after little more than a minute or two, his cock dripping steadily over Bull's fingers.
"Bull," he sighs, half muffled against his forearm, "you have to put it back in after you spill in me. We can't make a mess here."
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"Don't hold back," he murmurs, voice heavy and thick as he grinds deep. Bull pushes himself up and curses in Qunlat when he finally comes. He doesn't stop, intent on seeing Dorian to his end before they part. His hand works now, stroking in time with every thrust.
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It takes him several long minutes to come back to himself afterward, where his body feels hazy and heavy. He leans forward onto the table, resting the warm skin of his forehead against the cool wood. He breathes slowly, deeply, trying to calm his racing heart.
Maker, they'd really just done that.
With still quivering fingers he reaches back wordlessly to hand the plug off to Bull. He hadn't planned it this way, but something about Bull plugging him up again makes his stomach twist pleasantly.
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"Come on," he murmurs. "Let's get you back to bed."
Bull wants to offer to carry Dorian, but that might be a step too far. As it is, he helps Dorian cover up again, regaining as much dignity as either of them can. And once they're both covered, he coaxes Dorian to face him so he can gather him close in a kiss.
"You wicked thing," he murmurs, sounding downright tender as he admires the glow Dorian gets in the aftermath.
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With that in mind, the idea of going back to bed is an appealing one. Carrying might prove too much, but Dorian certainly accepts another kiss after he's all in order again. He knows he must still be gleaming with sweat, but after he reflexively comes his fingers through his hair and re-curls his moustache, he's confident that he looks presentable. He has plenty of experience putting himself back together after quick, clandestine trysts--though not such public ones.
"First I should like to go back for the book I was reading before you interrupted," he grumbles, even as he inwardly preens at Bull's admiration.
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As soon as they're back in Dorian's room, the Bull sweeps Dorian into his arms and into a kiss. It takes nothing to carry him back toward the bed, offering some relief from all the walking Dorian's been doing while full.
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It doesn't seem like that will be happening any time soon. Bull's touch lingers throughout the walk back to their room and Dorian isn't surprised when he picks him up again as soon as he has the chance. Dorian's arms go around him in return, settling around his neck. He doesn't let go even when he's lowered to the bed, grasping Bull's horns at the base to pull him along with him and into an impatient, searing kiss.
Rather than satisfying anything, it's as though their tryst in the library had merely whetted his appetite. The plug stretches him well, but not well enough, and he is still full of the Bull's seed. His clothes feel too heavy, but he isn't willing to release Bull's horns to begin removing them, too absorbed in the needy, impatient press of their mouths.
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He reaches down to catch the edge of the plug, to draw it back just enough to give it a gentle push back in, as if Dorian needs the reminder of what he could have. Through it all, he manages to keep kissing Dorian, until both of them are breathless.
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What shocks him out of the warm, hazy stupor their extended kissing had lulled him into is the rocking of the plug inside him. His lips leave Bull's as he gasps, and a shudder runs down the length of his spine, a feeling the settles heavily in his lower belly. The movement and the hint of a more satisfying stretch prompt him to part his thighs to give Bull more space, even as sweat collects beneath the collar of the robes they haven't yet been able to remove. Half-dressed like this, he feels even more debauched than if he'd been entirely unclothed.
"Surely you don't intend to leave that there," he murmurs between them, unconscious of the borderline desperate edge to his playful words.
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