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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"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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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."
no subject
"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.
no subject
"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?"
no subject
"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.
no subject
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."
no subject
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?"