shok_ebasit_hissra | (no subject)

But not the same way I missed you, surely Dorian thought, but didn't say. How could he have, when he was a toddler? Dorian sighed at the kiss of broad fingers in his hair, carding through the peach-fuzz short hair of the shaved parts of his style.

"If you're going to take care of me, Bull," he warned. "You had better take care of me."

He gave one last kiss, slow and lingering like honey, before dropping out of Bull's arms and taking him by the hand.

They could run back to the apartment building, in the rain.

"Don't I always?" Bull asked, voice warm and deep. He held onto Dorian as long as he could, until the mage's feet were on the ground.

The odd race back to the apartment made Bull laugh; he could remember lumbering through the rain, he could remember trudging. The only times he'd ever run in the rain, he'd been running at something to kill it, or he'd been trying to get out of the way of a flash flood.

When they got back to the Bramford, Bull grabbed Dorian and picked him up, tossing the mage right over his shoulder on his way to the stairs.

Dorian was nearly breathless by the time they made it home, enough so that when Bull bodily hauled him off of his feet and over his shoulder, he only half-protested.

"Bull! I'm not a sack of potatoes! " He kicked his legs, and beat Bull's shoulder, but it was just formality. A young lady gave a shriek and bounced out of the way as they entered the stairwell.

"Should have taken," Dorian shouted, each step readjusting him on Bull's shoulder, and causing his words to stutter. "The stairs ... your leg ... might need it later."

"My leg will be fine." Bull had no intention of getting stuck should the elevator just decide to stop between floors. He had plans. He brought them straight to his apartment, not bothering to put Dorian down as he opened the door.

"I managed to get up to your tower in Skyhold plenty of times," he quipped. He finally set Dorian down, realizing they should probably strip out of their wet clothes. "Should get you out of these wet things, kadan... can't have you getting sick."

They were both soaked, truthfully. Enough that there was already a puddle starting to form below Bull -- he did wear copious amounts of fabric to soak it all up. And, now that the storm front had moved in, so too had the cooler air, and Dorian only just realized he was shivering slightly now that he was standing in Bull's apartment.

He plucked at his white shirt, which was not doing very much shirting anymore. Even if he didn't plan for Bull to fuck him silly, the man had a point.

He held his arms out in surrender for Bull to start.

"When I get you in that bed," Dorian said. "I am going to ride you until you're wet and shivering like an Orlesian racehorse."

The promise sent heat sinking through Bull. He'd missed Dorian, even if it had only been a week. Even if he'd sort of been here the whole time.

The only thing that saved Dorian's shirt was the fact that Bull didn't want to be smacked later for shredding it. He caught Dorian's shirt by the hem and worked it off him, careful, and tossed it toward the bathroom.

"Gonna hold you to that," he rumbled. He worked Dorian's belt loose and kissed him, sharp and claiming.

Dorian dearly wanted to respond to that with a bit of rapier wit, but Bull's mouth was on him again, hot and wanting. He was quickly reminded of everything he'd been missing.

His hands fumbled with Bull's much larger ones, not really helping to get the belt off, and then the pants, before Dorian kicked off his shoes and socks and began pressing Bull back, bodily, toward the bed on his tiptoes, mouths pressed together as well as he could keep them.

"Missed the taste of you," he swore. "Smell of you. Maker."

Bull took his shirt off. Well, he ripped it. It was soaked and he had no patience to take it off over his horns. He threw the remnants to the floor as Dorian pushes him toward the bed.

He managed to get his pants loose, but not quite off, by the time he bumped into the edge of the bed. "I think this is worse than the time we went to the Western Approach without you."

Dorian slipped a hand beneath the waist of Bull's damp pants, quickly finding the mound of his cock beneath the soft underwear. He pressed his palm into it with a small but indignant chuckle, before slipping down Bull's pants, and then underthings.

"First of all, worse? Secondly, you left me at Skyhold. With Solas. And Mother Giselle. And Leliana. She goes through my things, Bull."

Dorian moved forward like a tide, until he was half-straddling Bull against the edge of the bed, until they toppled over back onto it, with Dorian neatly on top.

"And you could have died."

His cock was already hard, mostly there by the time Dorian touched him. He groaned quietly and tried to stay focused. It took some effort but Bull managed to get the rest of his clothes off with Dorian's insistent assistance. His back hit the bed and he kept one hand on Dorian's hip to steady him as he moved them toward the center of the bed.

"I felt the same," he admitted, voice low and unhappy at the memory. "When I heard reports from the Fallow Mire." Bull wasn't upset to miss all the apparent undead, but he'd wanted to be there. "When I was waiting for you to come back."

He pulled Dorian down to him, holding his face tenderly as he anchored him for another kiss.

Dorian kissed back, this time more urgently. Not like the slow savor beneath the steps of the library.

"Mercy, please don't bring up the Fallow Mire when we're about to have sex, Bull. I don't want to make love to you thinking about the smell."

Which had been Dorian's largest misgiving. The undead, well, those were just more tools for Dorian's magic. Wading in a fetid bog? Something else entirely.

Dorian slipped back just far enough to position the cleft of his ass over Bull's already stiff cock. He wrapped his hands around Bull's thick shoulders, enjoying the familiar feel of Bull's skin, and then bore down on top of Bull's erection. Just the touch of it on his arsecheeks, hot and damp, and the memory of the way Bull smelled down there. He couldn't swallow back a deep, unsatisfied groan.

Edited 2017-05-02 04:43 (UTC)

"Easy there, big guy." Bull's voice was tight and he gripped Dorian's hips to keep him from going too far. He reached, grabbed the lubricant from his nightstand so he could slick himself. His fingers teased over Dorian's hole, encouraging him. Bull still found Dorian's urgent impatience endearing; he was struggling with his own, wanting nothing more right then than to feel Dorian around him, moving on top of him.

Dorian made a low noise of frustration at Bull's words, which tightened into something needier when Bull's fingers brushed the sensitive skin around his hole. Anticipation might already have him undone. His cock was attentive between his legs, a pearly drop already on the tip of it.

"Missed you, Bull," he said again.

He pressed himself up on his knees, straddled above Bull as best he could. Enough room for hands to work. He brushed his palms over Bull's nipples, purple sparks, barely there, dancing along his fingers. He was wound up, tighter than viola strings. His whole body shivered, his magic sung.

Dorian's magic made him shiver. He wasn't sure he would ever get used to how it felt when Dorian actually directed it at him. Something a little sharp and sweet danced over his skin, threatened his careful focus as he worked Dorian open, as he did his best to make sure he wouldn't get hurt.

Dorian was wound up and Bull wanted to make him snap apart. "Do you feel ready?" he asked, breathless and urgent.

Bull's fingers slipped inside, stretching him. The familiar heat in his abdomen built, and he rolled against the touch with a keening noise that was followed by a laugh. All joyful delight. He rushed Bull's hands away when they started working out again.

"I am."

Dorian took Bull's cock in his own hands; it was big as life, even the feel of it. A shiver fled down his spine like a dozen tiny minnows at the thought of it. He was more than ready. Dorian guided himself down onto it carefully, and then, when he was certain of himself, sank down until he could feel Bull's hips against his arse.

Bull let Dorian take control of the show; he needed it, and Bull was okay with that. His hands steadied Dorian's hip, his thigh, providing support as he moved, as he sank down onto his cock. The heat of him pulled a moan deep from Bull's chest and his hands tightened; there'd likely be bruises before they were done. Finger-shaped, hand shaped. Dorian could look in a mirror and see where the Bull had gripped him.

Bull liked that idea.

"Look at you," he breathed, all desire and need. "Kadan."

"Bull, I can't," Dorian ground out. His thighs trembled, feeling hot and too tight under Bull's strong fingers, holding him balanced above Bull so that he could ride his cock. He was going to be sore in strange places the next day, but it would be a sweet sort of ache.

"But we could rearrange." He grunted deeply, lifted one hand to wipe the smallest rivulet of sweat and leftover rainwater. "Move the mirror."

He knew he must be a mess, hair matted and glossy, face and chest ruddy, mouth still swollen from hard meeting of mouths.

Dorian lifted himself, up and down along Bull's slick cock. It filled him up, brushed all sides of him where he needed it most. He stumbled in his smooth rhythm, hands slipping in the thin sheen of old rainwater between them sinuous figure eights becoming a hard drop. He gasped brightly.

Edited 2017-05-03 03:16 (UTC)

The Bull had absolutely no interest in moving, in stopping for even a moment. "You'll just have to believe me," he panted, "when I say you look amazing." He loved the mess Dorian was, loved the way he moved with desperation as he chased that feeling.

He adjusted himself, getting his right foot planted on the mattress so he had the leverage to rock his hips up to meet Dorian every time he dropped down. The sound of skin meeting skin was deliciously obscene, especially punctuated by Dorian's gasping breaths.

His hand slid from Dorian's hip to wrap around his cock; he didn't even bother to really stroke him, just let Dorian move between his cock and his hand.

"I believe you." Dorian's voice was thick and warm, his smile a wry thing beneath kind eyes. It was the truth.

As if to make up for the gentle love of the sentiment, Dorian redoubled the ferocity of their coupling, slamming himself down on Bull's cock, fit to bruise the man -- it certainly would have, if Bull hadn't been blessed with Qunari skin.

"Maker, you're so fucking big."

He tossed his head, black hair in his eyes, dark with pupils swollen. Sweat dripped from the tips of his bangs, onto Bull's chest, little droplets chilled by the air. He pawed shamelessly at Bull's abdomen, the thick muscle of his chest. Dorian's nails found Bull's dusky nipples, blunt but greedy. They touched without reason or goal, hungry.

"Oh, darling--" Dorian's voice tripped over itself. "I'm going to--"

Edited 2017-05-03 03:54 (UTC)

"Fuck, Dorian," he moaned, struggling to keep his gaze focused on Dorian's face, on his body, as Dorian tightened above him. Strong as his skin might be, he still felt the drag of Dorian's nails, sending shocks racing across his nerves, down into his core. His voice was tight, heavy when he said, "Let me see you. Let me feel you."

Bull felt that familiar, delicious tension twisting up inside him, building as Dorian moved relentlessly, urgently. He managed to hold off until he felt Dorian shivering above him, felt him coming. Then he grabbed Dorian's hips, tightly, and held him while he rocked his hips up, finally moving at his own pace until that tension snapped in him. Bull cursed in Qunlat and held Dorian against him as he came.

"Ah, Bull!" Dorian came with that, and no more, milky white come making long ropes down Bull's belly and chest, dashing him on the stubble on his chin. Just the sight of it made Dorian lose himself all over again, even before the white and blue flashes had cleared out of his eyes, while every muscle in his body was still coiled tight and burning.

Bull came, only moments later. It didn't surprise Dorian -- they'd been damn near rutting. But the feel of it inside, that it was Bull, the obscene amount of it there always was. Something unhooked inside of Dorian, released. The energy of it gathered itself up and out of Dorian somehow, a wave of primal energy that twisted around the room long enough to knock everything light enough off the shelves and bureaus, and knock the curtain rod off from above the window.

Dorian made high, loud sound of relief, almost a sob, and pounded his fists on Bull's pecs, acting all on overwhelmed instinct.

"Yes, thank you. Bull. My gods, my gods. You are ... so good to me."

Edited 2017-05-03 04:23 (UTC)

Bull could take whatever Dorian dished out: not much fazed him anymore. Not the pound of Dorian's fists against his chest, not the sounds he made, and not the magic that, occasionally, just spilled out of him in moments like this.

The sudden rush of energy did have Bull moving protectively, though. One hand went to the back of Dorian's head, making sure nothing could hit it, while the other arm wrapped around him, covering as much of Dorian's vulnerable back as he could, even if they were in the center of the odd vortex.

Only when it calmed did he relax his hold, allowing Dorian to move as he needed or wanted to. Bull smiled small, still catching his breath as he stroked his fingers tenderly through Dorian's damp hair. His thumb brushed across one of the mage's eyebrows, tracing his brow.

"You're easy to be good to," he said softly. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Dorian's. Bull kissed him tenderly.

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.