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...?"
Bull actually looks somewhat embarrassed. "We're stuck," he confirms quietly. He adjusts their position slightly, making sure that he isn't in any danger of pulling back too far. He nuzzles Dorian's cheek and murmurs a soft apology.
"This hasn't happened in a long time." That doesn't necessarily make it any better right now, but he feels he can at least tell Dorian that this is completely unexpected. His hand rubs gently over the mage's thigh and he can't help the concerned look that flickers across his face.
"Are you alright? Am I hurting you?"
Bull finds himself incredibly grateful that Dorian used the toy now. If this had to happen, at least Dorian is well-stretched and has already been fucked once.
With that confirmed, Dorian breathes out slowly, closing his eyes. He's quick to come to terms with the fact that what he'd previously imagined to be one of his more ridiculous adolescent fantasies is actually very real and currently happening to him. It's the Bull's concern that snaps him out of that little reverie.
"No, no, it doesn't hurt at all," Dorian is quick to reassure him, raising a hand to Bull's face. His tongue wets his lips as he hesitates a moment before adding, "Quite the opposite, actually." Though it seems everything about this is entirely unintentional, the last thing Dorian wants is for Bull to feel embarrassed or guilty. Particularly when he's actually enjoying it--the novelty of it, and the way every minute shift of Bull's hips causes a tremor of pleasure to roll up the length of his spine like an electric current.
Yet naturally, he can't stem his own curiosity. "But why has it happened? And why now?"
Bull huffs a laugh when Dorian starts in on the academic questions now that they've established they're both alright. He leans down to kiss Dorian, lingering for a moment to comfort himself.
"It's uhm--the tamassrans always talk about it like it's a breeding thing," he says after a moment. "But it can also be triggered by... intense feeling."
The tamassrans specifically talked about emotional connections, something that might make plenty of sense outside of a breeding program. Under the Qun, however, it's something to be gently mitigated by tamassrans.
That kiss makes Dorian realize that perhaps his questions could have waited. Rather than talking, he'd prefer more of that. His hips rock gently, almost subconsciously, and he gasps under his breath as the swell of Bull's knot shifts with his movement, rubs right where he wants it to. His body shudders with it, tightening around Bull's length where it's buried inside him. It takes some conscious effort to make himself fall still rather than seeking out more of that pleasure.
Bull's explanation actually does make sense, in a way. "I imagine that there's very little about me that would recommend me to a Qunari breeding program," Dorian chuckles. Though the rest leads him to believe that perhaps it's an instinct that predates the Qun entirely.
"By intense feeling do you mean that I'm a particularly good lay? Which is true regardless," he's quick to add the last part with a quirk of his lips. "Or..." He has to be careful here. "Something less physical?"
Bull closes his eye and his breath catches when Dorian moves like that. If he keeps it up, they'll be stuck together longer. Or again. He settles his weight carefully, gently pinning Dorian a bit more as he rests on his forearms.
He could lie. Bull doesn't do it often, tends toward half-truths and misinformation. But he doesn't want to.
"Something less physical," he answers quietly. It's dangerous to admit it, to tell the truth, but he suspects Dorian already has a sense of it, otherwise he wouldn't have suggested the alternative.
As Bull settles over him, getting more comfortable and putting a little more weight on him in the process, Dorian gives a soft gasp. It's difficult to have this conversation while any movement at all is so distracting. But it's worth paying attention to, because while Bull doesn't say much, he says just enough.
"Oh." So quietly murmured it might as well have been an exhale more than a word. Over the months they've spent together Dorian has gradually come to understand that he really is a special presence in Bull's life. Whatever their relationship is, it's something new to both of them. Perhaps Bull can't love him as Dorian does, but this is confirmation that he feels something real for him, something strong enough to trigger these instincts.
It's nearer to a confession than Dorian ever imagined he'd get. His chest is tight, relief and elation and adoration welling up until his lungs feel too crowded in his chest. His breath is shallow, his eyes sting, but he's happy. Unbelievably so.
He reaches for him, taking Bull's face in his hands, turning it toward his and kissing him soundly.
Bull slides an arm beneath Dorian's neck, gently pillowing his head as they kiss. He could do this for the rest of the day and be happy, he thinks. When they finally part, Bull strokes Dorian's cheek. What he feels for this man is terrifying and he doesn't know what to do about it. If there's anything that can be done.
Struggle is an illusion. There is nothing to struggle against.
"Well," he murmurs quietly. "At least it happened while we have a bed. I'd feel worse if we were in a tent somewhere."
At least here, he can keep Dorian comfortable and they have relative safety to just relax together until this passes.
Dorian doesn't want to stop kissing for some time, so they don't. He's surrounded by Bull, and full of him, and the taste of him is strong on his tongue, but it still doesn't feel like enough. Ridiculous, but in the moment, he feels a need for him unlike anything else. He can't help wondering if that's what love really is, in the end. And if at a certain point, the nuances cease to matter.
When they part for long enough to speak again, Dorian clicks his tongue, tutting gently. "You shouldn't feel badly at all, Bull," he insists. "As I mentioned, I'm rather enjoying the experience." His thumb strokes along the hard line of Bull's jaw as he smiles up at him. "In fact, I wouldn't be opposed to repeating it."
"Wait until your legs start falling asleep," he teases tenderly. If Dorian can tease him, Bull can tease back. He gives Dorian another tender kiss.
"I don't know if I can promise a predictable repeat performance," he admits. "It either happens or it doesn't."
That isn't entirely true. The tamassrans that run the breeding programs have become very good at inducing this state to make sure things take, but he isn't breeding Dorian. He strokes his fingers through Dorian's dark hair and nuzzles his jaw.
His tongue passes over his lips as he considers that he likely has little choice or influence over whether or not this will occur again. If Bull was so surprised by it, surely it must be rare indeed outside the biological imperative for which it was intended. Now that he knows it's possible, it's a disappointing thought, but he won't despair. Now is the time for action.
"I'd best take advantage of it then," Dorian decides, "while it lasts."
Which is easy enough to do with Bull still buried inside him, when even rocking a little up against him causes a wave of heat to roll through him, making his eyelids flutter and his lips part in a wordless moan. "Can you move?" He asks gently. "Or is it too much?"
Bull groans when Dorian moves his hips and his hand slides to grip the mage's thigh. Dorian's moan echoes in his head.
"Not much," he warns: he's concerned about hurting Dorian if he moves too much. He huffs a breathless laugh and nuzzles against Dorian's jaw, breathing in the perfect scent of him. His hand rubs over his thigh and hip, not discouraging him but just--warning.
Bull doesn't so much move his hips as he does shift his weight experimentally. He wonders if it will make the knot last longer. Bull's never done anything quite what he thinks Dorian is asking.
"Not to worry," Dorian says, deceptively lightly for how intensely he's feeling the shift of Bull inside him, however little he's actually able to move. "This will do nicely."
He loves the size and the sure grip of Bull's hands on his hip, his thigh. He loves the warm puff of breath against his neck, the coarse brush of his newly tidy beard. He loves the way Bull's voice always seems to sink through him and then settle there low in his belly, a welcome weight. He loves that Bull is so willing to indulge him--always, even now.
"Just--" he gasps, thighs squeezing around Bull's middle. "It feels good having you inside me like this. It's distracting."
"Mmhm," he hums his agreement: it is distracting. Bull gets his arm around Dorian and he moves slowly, carefully. He lifts the mage as much as he can and turns until he's got his back propped against the headboard with Dorian settling in his lap. There. Now he's not quite so worried about smothering the mage beneath him.
And besides, this gives him a better view and it gives Dorian more control. He slides his hands over Dorian's perfect thighs.
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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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"This hasn't happened in a long time." That doesn't necessarily make it any better right now, but he feels he can at least tell Dorian that this is completely unexpected. His hand rubs gently over the mage's thigh and he can't help the concerned look that flickers across his face.
"Are you alright? Am I hurting you?"
Bull finds himself incredibly grateful that Dorian used the toy now. If this had to happen, at least Dorian is well-stretched and has already been fucked once.
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"No, no, it doesn't hurt at all," Dorian is quick to reassure him, raising a hand to Bull's face. His tongue wets his lips as he hesitates a moment before adding, "Quite the opposite, actually." Though it seems everything about this is entirely unintentional, the last thing Dorian wants is for Bull to feel embarrassed or guilty. Particularly when he's actually enjoying it--the novelty of it, and the way every minute shift of Bull's hips causes a tremor of pleasure to roll up the length of his spine like an electric current.
Yet naturally, he can't stem his own curiosity. "But why has it happened? And why now?"
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"It's uhm--the tamassrans always talk about it like it's a breeding thing," he says after a moment. "But it can also be triggered by... intense feeling."
The tamassrans specifically talked about emotional connections, something that might make plenty of sense outside of a breeding program. Under the Qun, however, it's something to be gently mitigated by tamassrans.
no subject
Bull's explanation actually does make sense, in a way. "I imagine that there's very little about me that would recommend me to a Qunari breeding program," Dorian chuckles. Though the rest leads him to believe that perhaps it's an instinct that predates the Qun entirely.
"By intense feeling do you mean that I'm a particularly good lay? Which is true regardless," he's quick to add the last part with a quirk of his lips. "Or..." He has to be careful here. "Something less physical?"
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He could lie. Bull doesn't do it often, tends toward half-truths and misinformation. But he doesn't want to.
"Something less physical," he answers quietly. It's dangerous to admit it, to tell the truth, but he suspects Dorian already has a sense of it, otherwise he wouldn't have suggested the alternative.
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"Oh." So quietly murmured it might as well have been an exhale more than a word. Over the months they've spent together Dorian has gradually come to understand that he really is a special presence in Bull's life. Whatever their relationship is, it's something new to both of them. Perhaps Bull can't love him as Dorian does, but this is confirmation that he feels something real for him, something strong enough to trigger these instincts.
It's nearer to a confession than Dorian ever imagined he'd get. His chest is tight, relief and elation and adoration welling up until his lungs feel too crowded in his chest. His breath is shallow, his eyes sting, but he's happy. Unbelievably so.
He reaches for him, taking Bull's face in his hands, turning it toward his and kissing him soundly.
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Struggle is an illusion. There is nothing to struggle against.
"Well," he murmurs quietly. "At least it happened while we have a bed. I'd feel worse if we were in a tent somewhere."
At least here, he can keep Dorian comfortable and they have relative safety to just relax together until this passes.
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When they part for long enough to speak again, Dorian clicks his tongue, tutting gently. "You shouldn't feel badly at all, Bull," he insists. "As I mentioned, I'm rather enjoying the experience." His thumb strokes along the hard line of Bull's jaw as he smiles up at him. "In fact, I wouldn't be opposed to repeating it."
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"I don't know if I can promise a predictable repeat performance," he admits. "It either happens or it doesn't."
That isn't entirely true. The tamassrans that run the breeding programs have become very good at inducing this state to make sure things take, but he isn't breeding Dorian. He strokes his fingers through Dorian's dark hair and nuzzles his jaw.
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"I'd best take advantage of it then," Dorian decides, "while it lasts."
Which is easy enough to do with Bull still buried inside him, when even rocking a little up against him causes a wave of heat to roll through him, making his eyelids flutter and his lips part in a wordless moan. "Can you move?" He asks gently. "Or is it too much?"
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"Not much," he warns: he's concerned about hurting Dorian if he moves too much. He huffs a breathless laugh and nuzzles against Dorian's jaw, breathing in the perfect scent of him. His hand rubs over his thigh and hip, not discouraging him but just--warning.
Bull doesn't so much move his hips as he does shift his weight experimentally. He wonders if it will make the knot last longer. Bull's never done anything quite what he thinks Dorian is asking.
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He loves the size and the sure grip of Bull's hands on his hip, his thigh. He loves the warm puff of breath against his neck, the coarse brush of his newly tidy beard. He loves the way Bull's voice always seems to sink through him and then settle there low in his belly, a welcome weight. He loves that Bull is so willing to indulge him--always, even now.
"Just--" he gasps, thighs squeezing around Bull's middle. "It feels good having you inside me like this. It's distracting."
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And besides, this gives him a better view and it gives Dorian more control. He slides his hands over Dorian's perfect thighs.
"Is this alright?"