shok_ebasit_hissra | (no subject)

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One morning Bull woke up, no longer Askaashi, once more seeing the world through just one eye. It felt strange, but good. His memories felt close, felt real. It had been one hell of a week. He was glad Krem thought to keep some of his adult clothes around. He got dressed and headed out; they sky was heavy and overcast, and every time the wind kicked up he could smell rain.

He made his way to the library; he remembered that Dorian had to work, which was how he'd ended up at Krem's. Or maybe it was because he'd kept trying to itch his horn nubs on everything Dorian owned.

It felt really good to be an adult again.

The rain started before he reached the library; when he got there he saw a familiar figure just coming out. Bull grinned.

"Dorian! I'm back."

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Bull set his empty bowl aside and let his hands fall to Dorian's feet. He'd promised a massage, and he meant to keep to that. And it gave him something physical to focus on when Dorian mentioned Seheron again.

"You wouldn't have been sent there, would you? Never heard of any magister's sons being sent, but I guess that doesn't mean they weren't." His thumb stroked along the arch of Dorian's foot. "Krem was being trained to be sent over before things fell apart for him."

He looked at Dorian, curious. "What did you hear about it?"

"Only if they wanted to be. But you wouldn't find a magister's son in the rank and file of course, oh no. And not a Pavus, either. My father's house is known for politics, not the military."

All of that seemed so far away from there, in Darrow, tucked against Bull on the sofa. Relievedly. Disturbingly.

Dorian gave a very long sigh, toes curling up in pleasure at Bull's ministrations, even as his face grew folded and uncertain.

"Qunari brainwashing, savage, roving packs of the Fog Warriors, generally a latrine filled with powderkegs. I've no doubt things were volatile ... but there must have been at least something worth staying for. Especially on the behalf of the Qunari."

Dorian might have been loath to admit it, a few years ago, but the Qun was nothing if not pragmatic.

"Not that inaccurate," he said with a shrug of one shoulder. "It's a foothold against Tevinter, as much symbolic as it is practical. People still talk about how it took three Exalted Marches to push us back in that far in the first place. When we got Seheron back, it became more important to hold it. The locals like us better than the Imperium, so it's seen as a success."

He sort of stared off at nothing as he talked about it, but his hands never stopped their gentle attention to Dorian's feet. By now he knew every little thing that would make him sigh and shiver and relax.

"Between the Tal-Vashoth and the Fog Warriors, I welcomed the Vint incursions. That always felt straight-forward."

"To be perfectly honest, these days I can't really blame them. At least you know where you are with the Qun. They'll politely tell you they have no use for you anymore, before taking you permanently out of the picture. In Tevinter, they'll stab you in the back while smiling and asking you how the kids are, and isn't the weather lovely lately."

Dorian pressed some of his hair back into its style before leaning over and giving Bull an awkward, but appreciative, kiss on the cheek.

"I wish we could go back. Any Thedas at all feels more straight-forward than here. Maker, what depressing talk. We should obviously have dessert."

"Seheron was a sack of cats. Even Darrow is better than being back there. It's where I went mad." And Darrow had made him worry about it again. But he trusted Dorian and Krem, both to keep him grounded and to take care of business if he did go off the deep end. Maybe he should leave instructions, in case they didn't just want to kill him.

"I don't think I want to go back to the Thedas I left. Maybe if I could go with you and be Tal-Vashoth." He kissed Dorian's temple. "What are you craving for dessert?"

"I didn't mean--" Dorian looked at Bull with apology and contrition. He hadn't meant to suggest that he wished to go back to Seheron, or that it was in any way better than Darrow. Because Seheron was so utterly outside of Dorian's experience. Many things still were.

"If you could come back with me. Just be Tal-Vashoth. I would be happy." He moved to stand, kissing Bull on the top of his head as a bandage for his thoughtlessness.

"Do you still have some of that chocolate bar left? The dark one, with the pomegranate seeds."

"I know you didn't," he assured. He gently caught Dorian's chin, holding him close for a full kiss. "If I could go back to Thedas as a Tal-Vashoth and be with you, even with the sky crapping out demons, I think I'd like it." He let Dorian go and sank bank. Going back to the Thedas he remembered though, the one in which the Chargers were dead, did not sound like a promising prospect. If his choices were that or Darrow, at least Darrow had Krem and Dorian and no Qun.

"I do, and you probably know exactly where it is." He kept that particular chocolate bar in stock because he knew Dorian liked it.

Bull's hands were broad and thick and Dorian had seen them break a man's neck with concerning ease before, but they were always gentle when Bull held him that way, just with his thumb and forefinger around his chin, caring. It was a vulnerable feeling, but not in a horrible way. Dorian had since decided he didn't mind being so vulnerable, with Bull.

He sighed into Bull's kiss.

"You're my Tal-Vashoth. Now please bring me expensive chocolate."

Bull chuckled and nudged Dorian back down onto the couch. With a quiet grunt he got up and shuffled into the kitchen to find Dorian's chocolate. He found something for himself, too, and when he came back he offered Dorian the bar with the pomegranate throughout. He gripped the back of the couch as he eased himself back down and put his leg up again.

"You know, I'm not sure I'll ever fully be Tal-Vashoth," he admitted quietly, carefully peeling his own chocolate open. It had caramel in it. "There's parts of the Qun that are... helpful, to me. Still."

"And there are parts of the Chant that I try to live by. But you'll never catch me in a chantry, listening to some sister ask me why I don't submit myself to a Southern Circle, or admit that Andraste was an atual divinity."

Dorian cracked three squares off of the dark bar Bull had given him with a satisfyingly crisp snap.

"It doesn't bother me if you structure your life based on what helps you, or what you still believe. It only bothers me to think that you're doing so much hurting, because you're still figuring out which parts are right for you."

"That part is easy," he admitted quietly. "Painful, after a lifetime of living a certain way. But easy." He looked over at Dorian. "I can't - don't want - to put it before you. Before Krem. I never want to think of acceptable sacrifices or the demands of the Qun again. Not like that."

"Your feelings aren't an acceptable sacrifice. You deserve to be happy."

Dorian's mouth made a sideways smile. He took one of the squares of chocolate and placed it on his tongue. He let it it there, slowly melting.

"It wasn't feelings," he said quietly. "It was. But it was people." He looked down. "After the Inquisitor gave the order to save the dreadnought, something... shifted in me. The line I'd been walking for years, I fell to one side of it. I burned the Chargers' bodies, scattered them to the wind, and I dedicated myself to the Qun. Losing them made me wish I could go to Par Vollen, to be fixed again. But I managed it on my own."

He looked over at Dorian. "All they had to do was give the order, and I would have--" He cut himself off, chest tight at the thought of it now.

He would have killed them all.

Dorian didn't think Bull was quite ready to talk about this, not just yet. They could be at the limit of their earnest talk of feelings, for now.

Dorian made quiet shushing noises, before leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Bull's neck, fingers laced at the base of his skull. Dorian brought their mouths together in a kiss, pressing his tongue to sweep across Bull's. All warmth and melty chocolate.

Bull pulled Dorian closer, right into his lap. He needed to feel him, warm and alive and there. He closed his eye when they kissed, tasting chocolate and something that was just Dorian beneath it all. One hand very gently cradled the mage's head and the other arm stayed around him.

"Kadan," he murmured, almost like it was a prayer, or like he was giving thanks. "I wish I had a better word. A more specific one."

Dorian broke away with a hitch in his breathing, the pace speeding up, stuttering. That had been a very fine kiss, and a deep one.

"I like that one." Dorian swallowed deeply, and cracked another small square of chocolate off of the piece he'd pulled off for himself.

"Maybe because I don't speak Qunlat. But I like it. It's yours."

Bull smiled to hear the shiver in Dorian's breath, and his assurance. He could smell the chocolate when Dorian snapped off another piece, but he let the mage have a moment to eat it.

"Kadan it is, then." The tone he used when he said it to Dorian would reveal everything to another Qunari; they'd know in an instant that he didn't just consider Dorian a close friend or comrade. My heart.

"Now say it again in the growly voice," Dorian simpered, words still sticky and slow from melted chocolate. He was certain Bull knew the one. The one you could feel.

That made him grin. Bull pulled Dorian tighter against him, fingers tightening carefully against the back of his neck. "Kadan," he rumbled from deep in his chest, his tone low and rocky, like a landslide or earthquake.

"Maker," Dorian swore, shaky. He adored when Bull did that, a rumble so deep Dorian was fairly sure he just physically couldn't have matched it; he didn't have the outright size. But he loved it.

He managed to press their mouths together again, hard and messy this time, he rolled his hips down against Bull's thick thigh from where Bull had pulled him, into his lap.

"Kadan," he answered, more sweetly.

Dorian's cursing, the way he said kadan, and the way his hips moved against Bull's thigh were all more sweeter than the chocolate he'd long since forgotten about. Bull at least made sure that the packet he'd barely opened made it to the table as they kissed, as he met the urgency of it.

He pulled Dorian's hips down again, encouraging him.

Dorian keened as Bull pressed him down against the meat of his thigh, his half-hard cock still sensitive from their prior fucking.

"Are we really doing this again?" Dorian laughed, more than said, although it was a tight sound, coiled and eager.

Three times, he remembered Bull remarking. Yes, they probably were.

Twice wouldn't even be a one-night record. Dorian wondered when he'd become a teenager again.

His hands slid across Bull's stomach, teasing just above the line below his hips. Dorian had been insightful after all, simply tossing on one of Bull's smaller shirts.

He ground his hips down again, and again, in obscenely slow circles.

"Until you say the word, kadan." He curled his fingers in Dorian's hair, gripping enough to tug at the scalp but not to cause pain.

Bull kissed down Dorian's neck, lips and tongue teasing over fresh bruises from their earlier efforts. He found a clean place to bite as his free hand slid over Dorian's ass, his thigh, loving the softness of his skin over firm muscle. All that staff twirling and walking across Thedas with the Inquisition.

"Dorian."

"Ah!" The hand in his hair burned, a dull pain that more than flirted with pleasure, making Dorian's cock fill, until all of his desire was obvious, even from under Bull's white shirt. It pooled around his hips. Dorian tugged back with a toss of his head, like a horse yanking at its bit. Bull's lips felt like brands.

He fumbled for one of Bull's hands, groping blindly as he met his eyes, grey staring back at grey. Lifting Bull's hand to his mouth, he slowly pressed his mouth over the tip. He swirled a tongue around it, licked down into the space between thumb and forefinger, and then gently sucked.

Bull lifted his head when Dorian caught one of his hands, and he stared as Dorian licked his finger, lewd and expert, before sucking it down. Heat stirred in him, sinking low, filling his cock. His thumb brushed Dorian's cheek and he breathed something in Qunlat.

"Look at you," he managed, translating himself; his accent was heavier.