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.
Bull eventually eases the toy out and sets it aside somewhere safe. He mouths at Dorian's neck and works on getting him undressed, intent on having as much skin to skin as possible. Dorian smells so good and Bull is quickly losing the ability pay attention to anything beyond him. He pulls back just long enough to undress himself, then bullies Dorian further onto the bed.
"I can't believe you've had it in all morning," he growls as he catches one of Dorian's thighs, pushing it up as his heavy cock rubs against him.
The process of ridding him of the rest of his garments is made more pleasant by the constant presence of Bull's lips against his neck, kissing and nibbling at his skin as large and dexterous fingers open the clasps on his robe. He moves his arms and lifts his shoulders as necessary to remove them entirely until he's laying beneath the Bull entirely bare. The sheets are cool against his back as Bull is radiating heat above him, urging him into the center of the massive mattress.
"I wanted to surprise you," Dorian murmurs, reaching between his thighs as Bull pushes one up, exposing the base of the plug plainly. "Pleasantly." He circles a hand around Bull's cock, stroking what he can reach mostly for his own pleasure. The weight and heat of it in his palm is satisfying, especially so when the wide head nudges along the length of his own cock where is rests against his stomach, well on its way to full again as well. "And succeeded even more spectacularly than I expected, apparently."
"You absolutely succeeded," he says warmly as Dorian takes him in hand. Bull keeps his eye on Dorian's face as he reaches down to remove the plug. He sets it aside and teases his fingers over the stretched hole with a quiet groan.
He leans down to kiss Dorian then. Bull can already feel his pulse pounding and he's intoxicated by the way Dorian smells. His pomade and his lotion and the scent of his warm skin beneath it all. He growls quietly and lifts his head.
"Are you ready?" he asks, voice heavy as he shifts his weight. Maybe it's a moot point to ask, but he does anyway. Bull will always ask.
As Bull eases the plug out Dorian's eyes flutter closed and his lips part in a shivering, uneven breath. It's a gentle stretch, and quickly over. Dorian leans up as Bull leans down, meeting his lips halfway. He moves as Bull does, both reactive and anticipating. They've done this more than enough for Dorian to know what makes this more enjoyable for both of them. A pillow under his lower back and another under his hips to tilt them up means that Bull won't have to crouch and Dorian won't have to strain trying to hold himself up.
"As ever," he replies warmly, reaching to cup Bull's jaw in his palm to draw him down for another kiss.
Bull hardly needs to ask, but it's sweet that he does. He never assumes things in bed, and while this might have frustrated Dorian initially, he's since learned to appreciate it. No one else has ever bothered to check in with him like this, let alone in a way that's compelling enough to make Dorian even more invested. The pitch of Bull's voice and the way his fingers rub around his rim make him almost desperately eager.
They know each other so well now. Bull helps Dorian get the pillows in place and leans over him for the kiss. He'll always ask: he always needs to be sure because he knows just how easy it is to hurt his partners. He doesn't ever want that to be a real danger again.
Bull uses a bit more oil on himself before he presses closer and pushes in. It's easier than it's ever been and Bull can't help the sound that escapes him as he sinks deep. He growls quietly and gives a firm rock of his hips just to make sure he's as deep as he can get. It will never get old to feel Dorian take him, but this--this has been something unexpected and different and easy.
He adjusts his position, practically cradling Dorian as he finds a steady pace that allows him to savor this more than he could in the library.
As good as it feels when Bull enters him--and it feels good enough to steal his breath, to make his toes curl--the most gratifying part of it is Bull's reaction. The involuntary noise he makes, surprised and gratified, and it's Dorian who's done that for him, who gave him something that even the Bull apparently hadn't known he wanted this badly.
"Maker, Bull," he breathes, strung along by the slow, languorous--indulgent, really--pace that he sets. He doesn't close his eyes, doesn't stop looking up through heavy dark lashes at Bull's face, wanting to see the slight shifts in his expression. With remarkably steady hands Dorian reaches up to untie his eye patch, letting the strings dangle from his fingers for a moment before dropping it onto the bed beside them and promptly forgetting about it.
He traces the lines of Bull's face gently, reverently, and with a tightness in his chest that has nothing to do with sex at all. His thighs spread wider, giving Bull more space to move between them, and Dorian sighs with contentment and pleasure as he sinks deep inside him, rocks out again, and then repeats the motion. It's never been so easy to take him before.
Bull closes his eye as Dorian reaches up to remove his patch. He opens it again, overwhelmed with how fond he feels, how much he loves that gesture alone. The way Dorian touches him--
Very few people have ever treated him this way in his life, and Dorian's tenderness has become something he treasures. Bull leans down to kiss him, trying to work through the sudden weight in his chest. He shifts so that he's practically cradling Dorian, covering him entirely. He murmurs in quiet Qunlat, all the things he doesn't dare say in a language Dorian can understand. The sweetness is broken up with kisses, as much as either of them can stand without getting too lightheaded.
Bull adjusts his position just so, tries to give Dorian the angle he knows will make him climb the bed.
Dorian carries the weight of his affection consciously, feeling it grow with each kiss and each word Bull speaks, no matter that he can't understand it. He's never minded it when Bull resorts to using Qunlat in bed. If anything, he finds it gratifying. And even eager as Dorian always is to know things, he's never felt the need to ask about it, to push for those answers.
Bull is over him, pressing him down, but Dorian delights in it. He feels heavy in the best way, with limbs that are languidly slow to move, pleasure filling and weighing them like molten lead. His reactions are slow but intense. His head tilts back against the bed, exposing his throat with a gasp as Bull shifts, presses into him in a slightly different way, grinding slowly and more deliberately inside him. His cock throbs where it lays against his stomach and his hips buck up of their own accord. His hands grip Bull's shoulders, fingers pressing hard into solid muscle.
"More," he urges breathlessly, with eyes that are somehow both bright and dark, focused and unfocused. Looking just at Bull, where the rest of the world around them is blurred. "Like that, amatus."
Bull works steadily, chasing that feeling building inside him and knowing, trusting, that Dorian feels the same. Every time the mage's fingers dig against his skin, every sound he makes, every time he moves his hips guides the Bull. He gets lost in how good this feels, how good Dorian feels. But there's something else behind his growing pleasure, something he hasn't felt in a long time.
It's easy to ignore until he finally comes. Bull growls sharply and pushes deep again and again until he--can't. Until he can't pull out. He freezes over Dorian, dazed but suddenly intensely aware of what's happened. He moves his hips experimentally and confirms that, yes, he's stuck. He won't risk hurting Dorian by trying to pull back, so he lets himself sink in again, as far as he can.
"Fuck," he breathes, voice edged with a low groan.
For a time, Dorian falls out of the rest of reality. It's more than enough just to focus on Bull, on how their bodies connect, on how they can give one another pleasure. There isn't anything rushed about it as there had been in the library, but the intensity is overwhelming. Dorian finishes before Bull does, coming untouched onto his stomach with a deeply contented sigh. As his body works through and past its peak by tightening around him, Bull finishes not long after.
Dorian thought that perhaps he'd been imagining Bull feeling bigger over the last several minutes, as every thrust had felt like he was being stretched open impossibly wider. But now that he's pressed deep, spilling inside him with a growl for the second time in an hour, it's unmistakable. The base of Bull's cock has swollen enough that Dorian can feel it, especially where it's pressed inside him. The shock of sensation as Bull moves is almost too much. Dorian clutches at his shoulders, gasps. Fuck indeed.
And he had been so certain that it was all made up, just more Tevinter propaganda to try and portray the Qunari as different, beastly. After all, he and Bull have been fucking consistently for the better part of six months now and this has never happened. But apparently there is more truth to that particular rumor than he'd thought.
Maker, what a way to find out.
"Bull," he ventures carefully, though with something like wonder in his voice, "did you--are we...?"
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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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Bull eventually eases the toy out and sets it aside somewhere safe. He mouths at Dorian's neck and works on getting him undressed, intent on having as much skin to skin as possible. Dorian smells so good and Bull is quickly losing the ability pay attention to anything beyond him. He pulls back just long enough to undress himself, then bullies Dorian further onto the bed.
"I can't believe you've had it in all morning," he growls as he catches one of Dorian's thighs, pushing it up as his heavy cock rubs against him.
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"I wanted to surprise you," Dorian murmurs, reaching between his thighs as Bull pushes one up, exposing the base of the plug plainly. "Pleasantly." He circles a hand around Bull's cock, stroking what he can reach mostly for his own pleasure. The weight and heat of it in his palm is satisfying, especially so when the wide head nudges along the length of his own cock where is rests against his stomach, well on its way to full again as well. "And succeeded even more spectacularly than I expected, apparently."
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He leans down to kiss Dorian then. Bull can already feel his pulse pounding and he's intoxicated by the way Dorian smells. His pomade and his lotion and the scent of his warm skin beneath it all. He growls quietly and lifts his head.
"Are you ready?" he asks, voice heavy as he shifts his weight. Maybe it's a moot point to ask, but he does anyway. Bull will always ask.
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"As ever," he replies warmly, reaching to cup Bull's jaw in his palm to draw him down for another kiss.
Bull hardly needs to ask, but it's sweet that he does. He never assumes things in bed, and while this might have frustrated Dorian initially, he's since learned to appreciate it. No one else has ever bothered to check in with him like this, let alone in a way that's compelling enough to make Dorian even more invested. The pitch of Bull's voice and the way his fingers rub around his rim make him almost desperately eager.
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Bull uses a bit more oil on himself before he presses closer and pushes in. It's easier than it's ever been and Bull can't help the sound that escapes him as he sinks deep. He growls quietly and gives a firm rock of his hips just to make sure he's as deep as he can get. It will never get old to feel Dorian take him, but this--this has been something unexpected and different and easy.
He adjusts his position, practically cradling Dorian as he finds a steady pace that allows him to savor this more than he could in the library.
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"Maker, Bull," he breathes, strung along by the slow, languorous--indulgent, really--pace that he sets. He doesn't close his eyes, doesn't stop looking up through heavy dark lashes at Bull's face, wanting to see the slight shifts in his expression. With remarkably steady hands Dorian reaches up to untie his eye patch, letting the strings dangle from his fingers for a moment before dropping it onto the bed beside them and promptly forgetting about it.
He traces the lines of Bull's face gently, reverently, and with a tightness in his chest that has nothing to do with sex at all. His thighs spread wider, giving Bull more space to move between them, and Dorian sighs with contentment and pleasure as he sinks deep inside him, rocks out again, and then repeats the motion. It's never been so easy to take him before.
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Very few people have ever treated him this way in his life, and Dorian's tenderness has become something he treasures. Bull leans down to kiss him, trying to work through the sudden weight in his chest. He shifts so that he's practically cradling Dorian, covering him entirely. He murmurs in quiet Qunlat, all the things he doesn't dare say in a language Dorian can understand. The sweetness is broken up with kisses, as much as either of them can stand without getting too lightheaded.
Bull adjusts his position just so, tries to give Dorian the angle he knows will make him climb the bed.
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Bull is over him, pressing him down, but Dorian delights in it. He feels heavy in the best way, with limbs that are languidly slow to move, pleasure filling and weighing them like molten lead. His reactions are slow but intense. His head tilts back against the bed, exposing his throat with a gasp as Bull shifts, presses into him in a slightly different way, grinding slowly and more deliberately inside him. His cock throbs where it lays against his stomach and his hips buck up of their own accord. His hands grip Bull's shoulders, fingers pressing hard into solid muscle.
"More," he urges breathlessly, with eyes that are somehow both bright and dark, focused and unfocused. Looking just at Bull, where the rest of the world around them is blurred. "Like that, amatus."
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It's easy to ignore until he finally comes. Bull growls sharply and pushes deep again and again until he--can't. Until he can't pull out. He freezes over Dorian, dazed but suddenly intensely aware of what's happened. He moves his hips experimentally and confirms that, yes, he's stuck. He won't risk hurting Dorian by trying to pull back, so he lets himself sink in again, as far as he can.
"Fuck," he breathes, voice edged with a low groan.
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Dorian thought that perhaps he'd been imagining Bull feeling bigger over the last several minutes, as every thrust had felt like he was being stretched open impossibly wider. But now that he's pressed deep, spilling inside him with a growl for the second time in an hour, it's unmistakable. The base of Bull's cock has swollen enough that Dorian can feel it, especially where it's pressed inside him. The shock of sensation as Bull moves is almost too much. Dorian clutches at his shoulders, gasps. Fuck indeed.
And he had been so certain that it was all made up, just more Tevinter propaganda to try and portray the Qunari as different, beastly. After all, he and Bull have been fucking consistently for the better part of six months now and this has never happened. But apparently there is more truth to that particular rumor than he'd thought.
Maker, what a way to find out.
"Bull," he ventures carefully, though with something like wonder in his voice, "did you--are we...?"
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