log: bull+dorian WHO: The Iron Bull + Dorian Pavus WHEN: Friday night! WHERE: Their room, mostly on top of their "bed", which is really just a few mattresses on the floor because they broke their bed on their first night together and the bedframe's too small for Bull anyway. WHAT: Dorian and Bull have been taking it slow with their usual sexual behavior ever since the de-aging plot, which rattled them both. Dorian's pretty damn restless about it, but Bull isn't going to let things go back to normal until they check in with each other. WARNINGS: TBH, this is tame, but there's (light) discussion of BDSM, etc.
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It wasn't that Dorian didn't like this arrangement.
He did. Really. Bull had given him quite the scare when he woke up as Hissrad, and it had left him in a place where he didn't feel quite ready to be up to their usual manner of play. Dorian hadn't quite been willing to be bound, gagged, spanked, flogged, or be placed in any sort of vulnerable position, even when he knew that Bull was back to himself and back in control. All had taken was the slightest amount of hesitation and Bull had given Dorian the reins. Dorian was, of course, always in control, even when it appeared as if he wasn't. He got what he wanted, what he needed, and Bull catered to him even if perhaps from the outside it seemed like the reverse.
Still. It was good to take a little space, to take things slow. It was the safe, sane, comfortable thing to do.
But ugh, how long had it been? A week? Two weeks? Weeks of Bull using his gentlest touches and being so soft and snuggly, and Dorian felt he might die with frustration. (Please, he enjoyed being coddled as much as a Fereldan's lapdog, but sweet Maker, he had limits.)
He found himself restless, with an unscratchable itch, the sort of which he hadn't felt since his longer stretches of celibacy in Tevinter. And as much as frequent explicit conversations with Bull via the sending crystal had helped, it was almost more frustrating to have Bull without truly having him at his best.
Bull had been particularly snuggly and sweet that day, and Dorian had been as fussy and squirmy as a cat dunked in water. It wasn't that he disliked the gentler, sweeter Iron Bull — because he did, he loved the attention. He just wanted the affection and the snuggling after he'd been broken like a wild horse.
When he returned to their rooms that evening, Dorian draped himself dramatically against the door frame and huffed.
"We need to talk."
Bull had known it was coming. It was either that, or Dorian was about to break up with him, and that thought made him belly-laugh more than the time he heard all of Varric’s antics in Kirkwall. Cept the part about the Arishok. That shit wasn’t funny.
He knew he was being frustratingly slow in how they were moving things along, on purpose, but Bull wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up. He had the same ache, the same nerve-endings that needed to be revved up. He enjoyed the hell out of Dorian letting him have his moments of cuddling and softness, but like his partner, he craved more. Always.
But it was a craving he kept in careful check, on purpose, knowing exactly what Dorian needed was to be the one to make the decision.
Unless Bull was completely wrong - a rare occurrence but known to happen - and Dorian was about to finally call it an end. Nah. Still, he raised his eyebrows and looked up expectantly from his spot on their makeshift bed, where he was quietly knitting little pink hearts, the needles dwarfed in in his large hands. “This about you being squishy?”
Dorian's eyes fixed on the little hearts, and for a moment he didn't answer. Bull seemed to love pink and glitter as much as he enjoyed practically bathing in blood, and sometimes it was just peculiar. Little hearts, they must have been for whatever silly little holiday was coming up. And it was sweet, really, but right now, Dorian couldn't stomach sweet.
"In part," he said, folding his arms and offering a haughty little lift of his chin. "Because as I recall, you find me quite difficult to break. I'm rather insulted."
Bull let out a low chuckle, all-too-pleased smile blossoming on his face. He loved when he managed to rile Dorian up - it wasn’t easy when you knew exactly what buttons to push, and oh did Bull know what buttons to push - but it had been far too long since they’d been in the position like what I will conquer you had inspired. Bull would never have called their relationship boring, not in a million years, but Dorian getting his back up over something like this was the perfect thing to make his heart flutter.
“Cause I’m not trying to kill you, kadan.” Bull punctuated the words as he started putting away his knitting things, stacking them off to the corner in a not-so-neat pile, following it with a gentle pat about a foot away from him. “Come sit.”
Dorian prissily closed the bedroom door and sauntered over to the bed. He was most unhappy with the fashion of this world, and he'd done his best to look presentable in a pair of fitted blue jeans (tucked into his knee-high boots from home) and a crisp white shirt that buttoned up the front. He wore his sending crystal around his neck, neatly tucked under his clothes, and his fingers were still adorned with the multiple rings that he'd been wearing upon arrival.
It would have to do for now. The positive to wearing such foreign fits and fabrics was that everything seemed significantly simpler to remove, and if Dorian got his way this was going to work to his advantage.
He sank down onto his knees, crawling across the mattress to close the distance between them. Come sit? Please. He leaned over to press a trail of soft, lingering kisses over Bull's shoulder and up to his throat.
"I need you back in full force," he said, his voice a low little growl. "I know it's killing you to be polite and sweet when all you really want to do is tie me down and break me." He swung one leg over Bull's lap and came to straddle his thighs.
It was a damned good thing that Bull had will made of iron, because his eye widened slightly at Dorian slinking over, and then it damn near snapped when his lover crawled onto his lap. Any other time and the conversation would’ve been over and Bull would have given in. But this was after Hissrad, after a scare and after he knew full well that Dorian had been uncomfortable just nine days before.
They had to talk about it. Something he knew Dorian hated, when he just wanted to feel, but Bull would be sure to make it up to him later.
His big hands settled on Dorian’s hips and he allowed himself one brief kiss, leaning in and taking in all of this before easily lifting Dorian up and setting him to the side. “Love it when you get all bossy, you know, but we’ve gotta talk. You said it first.” Silently, he stroked along Dorian’s flank, in a non-sexual and comforting way. “How you been feeling this week? Good? Any reservations? Any worries you’re putting aside just cause you wanna be spanked?”
Dorian was not a small man by any means. He was tall and well built, his muscles solid, and yet Bull was able to lift him up and set him down like he weighed little more than a fennec. Normally, that delighted him.
Now, however, he sulked, leaning back on his hands and looking up at Bull with a frown. "When I said we needed to talk, this is not what I imagined," he said saucily. He rolled his eyes before sighing and impatiently rattling off the following answers: "Yes, I'm fine, no reservations, no worries, everything is lovely."
There, see? That was good enough, wasn't it?
Bull chuckled again and tilted his head so the horns wouldn’t be in the way while he smoothed a light kiss across Dorian’s clothed shoulder. It was more of a romantic gesture than they usually did, but in private these things normally came a lot more easily. Dorian was always more willing to let him ‘get away’ with things when they were alone.
It was painfully obvious that Dorian’s answer wasn’t good enough, though, as Bull leveled a serious look on his lover. “This isn’t happening without this conversation, Dorian. You know that.” His hand was still rubbing against Dorian’s side, in soothing strokes, trying to soften the minor blow of… well, not rejection, because there was no power in this world that was ever going to get Bull to stop wanting Dorian, but the temporary pause.
Bull was always careful. He'd throw himself into danger on the battlefield but he wouldn't risk Dorian's safety for anything. Dorian, on the other hand, was a little more prone to risky behaviors that weren't entirely thought through. He needed Bull's guiding hand, his steadying influence, because without it Dorian was off getting drunk in the slums of Minrathous and making rather terrible decisions. Dorian was always safest in Bull's arms.
"I am fine," Dorian insisted, a little more seriously. "What happened wasn't your fault, I know this. And you know this, yes? A trick of the universe, an impossible spell gone wrong, and what's done is done. I appreciate the distance, and how gentle you've been, but…"
His hands clenched in the blankets and he stretched out his legs, leaning back a little more heavily on his hands. "I find 'gentle' tiresome."
Honestly, he ought to have known sooner that he craved this sort of thing, that he went in for harsher pleasures and more complex games, but he hadn't had anyone like Bull before to actually guide him.
That was more like it. Bull knew with some gentle prodding Dorian would open up over the situation, which is why he was always okay with being patient. Tormenting and maddening at all times elsewhere, yes, but this was their private space, their quiet time. Bull wasn’t about to mess that up, when Dorian’s mental health was first and foremost on his mind. Once they’d hit the point of agreement and were feeling good about each other? There weren’t a lot of rules. Watchwords, things they both knew that the other liked and didn’t like, limits that were pre-determined.
But that had taken a drastic change with Hissrad, and Bull knew it. He’d been too close to having Dorian’s life in his hands, if his lover had made just the wrong move against him, Hissrad wouldn’t have hesitated, even in confusion. Half of the reason Bull had held off on his own was from a tiny fear that his brain would revert, though it had been over a week and there was no lingering doubt that he was in control of himself, not the Qun.
“Yeah, I know it.” He finally nodded, after letting his thoughts rattle around for a good minute. As much as he craved Dorian’s touch, he knew hands off was needed before they got carried away. “You making this choice because of desperation or because you actually trust me?” He huffed out a breath. “Desperation’s good, but I gotta make sure.”
Dorian squinted at him, his gaze flickering back up to Bull's eye. "I trust you," he said, as if it were obvious. Simple. Whatever had happened hadn't been Bull's fault, and even though Dorian was rattled he knew that it was fine, now.
Because it was, wasn't it?
Dorian didn't know Hissrad the way Bull had known Hissrad, because Bull had been Hissrad for much of his life. He had an idea, yes, but it was an idea that he could easily sweep to one side and push under the rug and not speak about.
Bull didn't have that luxury, and when Dorian realized it, he frowned. "Do you trust you?"
He could’ve lied. He was good at lying. He’d spent years lying, pretend, acting like he was someone else. But he knew he owed it to Dorian to fess up, especially if they were having honesty hour to talk this out. Bull wouldn’t have been able to handle letting it go any further with him in control without airing out all their dirty laundry, that’s how it had been since the first - alright, not the first, since they’d both been drunk and stupid and new to that kind of passion - but the second and third and every time after when they figured out their roles.
“I trust me.” That part was the truth, sure. The Iron Bull, who he had created, forged and built from the ground up, he trusted. He’d spent a long time figuring himself out and learning who he really was, and that person was who was sitting on this bed. But… “I don’t trust whatever magic is powerful enough to fuck with this again. If it happens while I’m in control? Yeah, I’ve thought about that.”
Dorian already knew Bull’s grievances on the subject, at any rate, so he didn’t grumble or hash it out all over again. he did growl slightly, though. “Damn shit can’t leave well enough alone and let us have our peace.”
Dorian thought he was an expert. Before coming here, he rather arrogantly believed that he understood magic better than most — and that was probably true. But here, magic worked in different ways, and Dorian had no ability to counteract that. He was out of his depth and he hated admitting that. Certain magic simply wasn't possible in Thedas, and these other mages sneezed wrong and half the population was de-aged. It was absurd. No one needed that kind of power.
It could happen again at any point. Anything was possible, and with their private life in this room it was very possible that something would happen while Dorian was tied up and helpless. Bull had every reason to be concerned.
Dorian sighed softly, nodding, and shifted so he could settle on his knees in front of his lover. "Are you going to let that fear dictate what you do?" he asked, resting his hands against Bull's chest. "I'm not."
He leaned in, lightly pressing a kiss to Bull's shoulder. "There's no telling what may happen, but back home we might have been set upon by Venatori, or we could have been struck by a bolt of lightning. We can't control what's outside this room. But in here, there's you, and there's me."
“Nah,” Bull met Dorian halfway, head dipping slightly so he could brush a kiss across the ‘Vint’s temple. “Pretty sure you’d set me on fire if I held out a few more weeks. But you know I needed to clear the air.”
It was already a little bit of relief just from saying that worry. They’d had brief bouts in the past where the watchword had made an appearance, but never a true moment of dishonesty when they were in this area. This safe-zone. Plenty of avoidance and not talking about things, sure, but Bull didn’t take anybody - least of all, Dorian - to bed without airing grievances out first. It just wasn’t his style.
“It’s just gonna be there more than it was before. But we know, now. We can prepare. Do shit our way.” He let his hands trail back to Dorian’s hips, tugging gently. “Watchword, yeah?”
Dorian took the tug as an invitation, and he crawled up into Bull's lap again with his knees on either side of Bull's hips. "Watchword," he murmured, straightening up tall enough to steal a kiss. They had a structure to things, routines and boundaries and rules that made it clear that they were in a safe environment. Dorian felt safe with Bull, no matter what chaos was happening outside.
He reached up, running his fingertips over his lover's horns before his hands curled around them tightly. "Don't let me out of this room until morning," he whispered.
Bull finally gave into the bubbling laughter that had threatened to emerge since Dorian had dramatically draped himself in the doorway, clearly on a mission. That mission was obviously now accomplished as he settled onto Bull’s larger lap, and the Qunari was all too happy to let him do so without removal.
Two years ago, he would’ve hated using the word ’content’. He wanted passion. He’d thought (wrongly) that with passion, you couldn’t have contentment, but damn had he been wrong. He continued chuckling his stupidly pleased laugh against Dorian’s lips, even as he was returning kisses. Finally, he leaned away a little and wiggled his eyebrow. “Get your perfect ass back on the bed while I get the rope, Kadan.”