shok_ebasit_hissra | (no subject)

He lay there on top of Bull for some time, shivering but un-moving, kissing him back with exhausted gentleness. He could feel Bull slowly going softer inside him, could smell sex and dampness and magic thick in the air around them. Somehow, it made the room seem smaller, quieter, intimate. He stirred more only once he'd had enough of the taste of Bull's lips and tongue.

"Your room's a mess." The voice was too satisfied and raw to be properly apologetic. "It was a split-second decision. I liked these drapes too much to make for a repeat."

He shifted off of Bull gingerly, and rolled to the side, picking at all of the places his hair was plastered to his face. He was certain his moustache was wrecked.

The lights still hurt his sensitive eyes, but the way it made everything seem glowing, fuzzed out the details ... oddly romantic.

"I missed you."

Edited 2017-05-03 04:38 (UTC)

Every kiss was met, soft and sweet in the wake of their spent need. His hands moved over Dorian's sides and back, gently touching him, soothing after leaving so many bruises: hand prints on Dorian's hips and thighs, mostly. Satisfaction settled in his chest at the sight of them.

Bull stayed still as Dorian finally pulled away; he shivered faintly. The air felt cold after the heat of Dorian's body. He moved slowly, propping his back up with pillows as Dorian settled against his side. He tried to use his body to block some of the more direct light.

"I missed you," he echoed. "It was strange seeing you and... not seeing you." Not in the same way. Ashkaari couldn't feel what the Iron Bull did for Dorian: he was just a child.

Dorian felt confessional at that. He so rarely felt confessional. But he could understand why, if he cared to understand it at all. Bull as a little one -- Ashkaari, he supposed -- had been living proof. Had wiped away any doubts that Dorian might have had, about why Bull was there, what Bull felt for him. Because the little boy saw Dorian only as a man, and he'd loved Dorian, in the way a child does, with implicit trust and need.

Dorian could be an insecure man. He could belittle himself. But Bull was not in his bed because Dorian was very pretty, and young, or some kind of foreign fetish. Bull was there because they loved one another.

"I love you," he said, from where he was pressed against Bull's side, body boneless and prickling.

Everything in him softened, suffuse with warmth. Bull tucked his arm beneath his head so he could lay fully on his side, so he could face Dorian as the mage snuggled to his side.

"I love you, Dorian."

It was not something he had ever, ever had occasion to say to anyone else before Dorian. He'd been Hissrad, and only Hissrad, dedicated to the Qun. Under the Qun there were no relationships like this: no families, no lovers. But here he was, holding Dorian close to his chest as he murmured those words: there was no equivalent in Qunlat.

Hissrad could never say those words and mean them.

But the Iron Bull could.

Dorian's chest felt filled to bursting with those little words. He wrapped his arm across Bull's chest, fingers playing at the short stubble just showing at the base of his skull. The skin still felt warm there. He could see the flush still on the long tips of Bull's ears. Dorian smiled at him, almost painfully broad, and filled with absolute fondness.

When he spoke again, the words were sweet, and bitter. But the later simply complexity to the former. Making it richer, making it kinder.

"Well, there you have it. Now we're both well and truly fucked."

He pulled in closer; he fumbled for the blankets.

"That isn't what your smile says," Bull said warmly. He kissed the dimple on Dorian's cheek and reached over him, his longer arm easily catching, pulling the blankets over both of them. Dorian still had drying rainwater and now sweat on his skin, and Bull was more concerned about him staying warm. But the blanket would trap his body heat, would share it, and that would help.

He kissed Dorian's forehead.

"Does saying it still make you feel vulnerable, kadan?" Bull asked the question kindly, gently, not wanting to upset Dorian in the asking. He knew what the mage had been through here, for the most part; he knew what Dorian had been through in Thedas. For the most part.

"Yes," he said. The word was small, but felt giant in its honesty. He dried his face thoughtlessly on the edge of the blanket. His hair was finally drying enough to try to keep it swept up out of the way.

"But I know you're here. And you're not going anywhere. That's why I said it."

He traced gentle circles on the center of Bull's chest with his fingers, self-soothing.

"And anyway, it's about time at least one of the men under House Pavus tried not to be an admitted coward."

He said it again.

"I love you, Bull."

Edited 2017-05-03 05:27 (UTC)

"You're very brave, Dorian. Leaving Tevinter, doing everything you did to help the Inquisition. You were brave long before you met me." He kissed Dorian's hair and squeezed him close.

"I'm here, I'm not going anywhere." He said that with conviction. "And I am free to love you." In a way that wouldn't have been possible, allowed, in the version of history he came from. Bull was glad that there was some version of reality that involved him becoming Tal-Vashoth. He was glad that was the man that Dorian knew before coming here.

"Yes, well, I don't always feel like it." It was more aching honesty, more gentle wryness. But Bull loved him, and that mattered. It also mattered how Bull felt now. It mattered that Dorian listened, so he did, crefully and with compassion.

He could never think like a man who'd been raised under the Qun, not really. But they were both trying so very hard, to be themselves out from under a heavy burden.

"You know, Bull," he murmured. He was tight against Bull's side, warm and comfortable and sore in only good ways.

"Where I came from, Solas said something to you once when we were out ... that you aren't Tal-Vashoth, not really. It seemed like it was good for you to hear it. And maybe he was right. You're Iron Bull."

Bull considered that. He and Solas had always sort of circled each other; Bull had never quite trusted him. "I wonder if he considered me Vashoth. That's what we usually call those born outside the Qun, but... sometimes we also call those that reject the Qun but don't turn against it Vashoth, too."

He wondered if that was where he fell. It did bring him a strange sort of comfort, that both sides of himself could exist with less conflict. He nuzzled Dorian's temple.

"Thank you, Dorian."

Dorian laughed, softly and sweetly, at the nuzzle against his temple. Bull could be almost alarmingly gentle, for such a large creature, with such broad horns. It reminded him sometimes of the musk deer on the property at home, in Asariel. They would eat grain right out of your hands in the springtime, when they all gathered for mating season.

His father used to hunt them, but Dorian had never had the heart to join Halward.

"I'm here for you Bull, whatever you might need me for." He lay his head on Bull's shoulder, overtaken by exhaustion and warm comfort.

"As long as we're both here."

"I'll always have your back, Dorian. And not just for the view." He had to tease, he had to lighten the moment because everything he felt was too much and too good. He cradled Dorian to him, intent on keeping him warm and safe.

"Have you given any more thought toward possibly moving?" he asked, quiet but curious. Things had been slightly interrupted by his sudden age regression, but little Ashkaari had grown up again.

"I know for a fact it's a very nice view. You've seen Tevinters naked, haven't you? I'm not hairless back there out of the grace of Andraste."

He let out a very long, but not frustrated, sigh. He was just tired, nothing more.

"Give me an hour, Bull. A nap. And then I will give it all of the attentive thought you could possibly ask for. Be a lamb, amatus -- wake me up before too long?"

Bull laughed quietly. "Rest. I'll wake you and make you dinner." He adjusted his position to make sure they would both be comfortable.

Listening to Dorian fall asleep lulled him; Bull drifted in and out himself for a while, never quite falling under all the way. It was a little over an hour before he stirred again. Bull eased out of bed, making sure the blankets stayed over Dorian. He pulled on a pair of soft pants; his left leg ached, but he could handle it. He leaned on the bed and gently nudged Dorian awake.

"What do you want for dinner?" he murmured, voice warm and a bit heavy from dozing.

Edited 2017-05-03 06:45 (UTC)

Dorian woke with hair sticking up at odd angles, both on his head, and on his face. He woke with his eyes sticky from dried sweat and rainwater, and rubbed at them while smiling a lop-sided smile at Bull.

Dorian would never admit it, but there were people like Vivienne and Mae that he knew who woke looking effortlessly beautiful and charming. He, on the other hand, had to put a little work in, at least in his own opinion.

His voice took a moment to find itself.

"Thank you for waking me. Something light? Pasta, salad ... do you have anything cold to drink?"

He tucked the blankets up under his chin and rumbled a cough. He felt messy, but he also felt loved.

Bull watched Dorian wake, a small smile on his face. Even a mess, he thought the mage looked beautiful. He smoothed some of his hair back and leaned to kiss his forehead. "Go take a hot shower. I have some iced tea - hibiscus, I think. That and some dinner will be waiting when you're out."

He eased back from the bed, the fond look lingering. A quiet chuckle escaped as his odd kitten hopped onto the bed to nuzzle against Dorian.

Dorian made a surprised noise at the kitten on the bed. He was not necessarily an animal-lover, but he'd had a cat of his own once. Still, he didn't know how to deal with such a small one. It hadn't yet developed an adult cat's personality. Dorian pretended he disliked cats, of course; they were superior, crafty, and demanded too much attention, which were adjectives naturally which also applied to Dorian himself.

"I don't think you're going to want to shower with me, little bit." He scritched it under the chin.

"Alright. I'm off. I'll be out in fifteen," Dorian promised as he slunk off of the bed and grabbed a towel and one of Bull's smaller shirts on the way out to the bathroom.

"Hibiscus sounds perfect."

Bull lightly swatted Dorian's ass when he passed by. The kitten picked a spot in the bed, still warm with Dorian's body heat, and curled up.

He shuffled out into the kitchen to prepare something for them both - a salad, and he added some left over chicken for the sake of having protein. By the time the water in the bathroom shut off, Bull had bowls of salad set on the low table in the living room, along with a few dressing options and two glasses of tea. He thought sitting on the couch might be nicer than sitting on the table... and it gave him the chance to put his leg up on the ottoman he kept nearby for just that purpose. He probably shouldn't have run on it without his brace.

"Thought this might be a little more comfortable than the kitchen table."

Dorian exited the bathroom in a boil of steam, putting the finishing touches on the wax in his moustache. He padded on damp feet over to where Bull was in the living room, putting finishing touches on his spread, and stood on the tips of his toes to offer a pliant kiss. Bull's shirt was more than enough to cover all of the important parts of him, save perhaps that it fell off one shoulder. Which was not so much a bother to Dorian. He enjoyed showing just enough skin. Especially when he knew he was a picture in white.

"I have the night off. We could stay in and catch a film. Unless you've something else in mind."

Dorian was feeling game, despite the hitch in his walk. Though it was Bull's limp that worried him.

Dorian looked like something forbidden, wearing only one of Bull's shirts. He grinned and leaned to meet the kiss; he was very aware of everywhere the shirt didn't cover, and he was sure that was Dorian's point.

"Staying in sounds good to me. My brace wasn't at Krem's place." No one had thought to bring it; Ashkaari had perfect use of both legs. He sank down onto the couch with a quiet grunt and immediately put his left leg up; he left plenty of space for Dorian.

"I like the idea of going out with you, though." Bull grinned and gently nudged Dorian once he sat. "Maybe a date tomorrow, if we can manage to leave the apartment."

Dorian made a noise of sympathy and sat down on the sofa next to Bull, his legs tucked neatly under himself. It was easier to lean that way, so that he could rest one hand on Bull's bad leg, and let his magic do what it could to soothe away the inflammation.

The gentle green light flared to life on the tips of his fingers as he worked, the emerald waters of the Fade.

"A date. A proper date. With you. That does sound strangely lovely -- er, no offense, Bull." He hoped Bull understood how he meant it. There hadn't been much dating for Dorian in his life so far.

"Is that a strawberry balsamic? You know me too well."

Bull made a quiet sound, not quite protest, when he felt the tingle of Dorian's magic. He turned his head and kissed the mage's temple, trying to make his appreciation clear, despite his discomfort with magic in general.

He trusted Dorian.

"Yes it is, and of course I do. Ben-Hassrath," he teased. "I'm not offended. It's not like we had a lot of time - or options - in Thedas. Where do you like to go?"

That was certainly a question. Dorian placed his free thumbnail in his mouth and pressed it between his teeth absentmindedly, as his other hand still worked out the coils of pain and damage in Bull's leg.

"There's the opera, or the symphony orchestra. Movies are lovely too. The weather isn't nice enough yet for picnicking or swimming, but ... there's always walking by the boardwalk."

He felt the magic around Bull's leg uncoil something; that was good enough for now. Dorian turned his attention to the tea, and the food.

He poured some of the vinaigrette on his salad. Bull was a better cook than he was, by far.

Bull hissed quietly when something... happened, in his leg. Then he sighed, sinking back in relief. "Thank you," he said quietly, because no matter how much he fussed about it, he did appreciate it. He knew Dorian did it because he cared.

He put a different dressing on his own salad and sat back with the bowl, intent on keeping his leg up.

"I do like the beach," he admitted. It reminded him of a home he'd left behind long, long ago. He liked the smell of the sea; he liked the taste of the salt on Dorian's skin. "Whatever you like, we'll find something." He was open to trying new things, and being the odd man out hadn't stopped him from going places yet.

Dorian gave Bull an odd look. He appreciated the thanks, but he hadn't needed it. He was no great healer, but he did what he could do, and he saw it only as sensible to help Bull's pain with his magic. Bull, of course, hadn't been raised with much contact with Andrastianism, even the Tevinter flavor. But Dorian was, after a fashion, Andrastian. And magic was meant to serve man.

To not help Bull at all would have been more remarkable, to Dorian.

It could also have been that he was, despite the appearances he cultured, of a kind and gentle nature.

"The beach then. Because, ah -- we may have to make special arrangements at the playhouse. On account of your very impressive rack."

He offered Bull a fond smile before picking up his own bowl and fork, to follow suit, and finding himself a place tucked against Bull's side. He liked that about having Bull around.

Well, he liked having Bull around.