The Iron Bull. (bullheaded) wrote in the100, @ 2016-01-16 21:17:00 |
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They'd broken the bed on Bull's first night. It was understandable, of course. Bull was heavy and the bed was flimsy, and it was far too small for him, anyway. The fact that they'd put so much stress and strain on it because of aggressive sex was only secondary. How was anyone like Bull supposed to sleep comfortably on a bed that size? It simply wasn't practical, and even if the bed hadn't broken under relatively reasonable wear and tear, they would have gotten rid of it because it was simply too small. Mattresses were spread out on the far side of the floor now, taking up one full half of the room and hidden away from visitors by a dividing half-wall and a curtain that Dorian had put up, made of the prettiest fabric he'd been able to find. If offered some privacy (Dorian didn't need the Inquisitor anywhere near his bed when she stopped in), but did little to muffle the sounds that Bull managed to pull out of Dorian in moments of desperation, or Bull's graphic descriptions of precisely what he was going to do to Dorian over the course of the next several hours. Dorian should have felt bad for their roommates, but he was allowing himself to be selfish. Max and Chloe could have peace and quiet when they were finished, and Dorian would make up for it by … being exceptionally tidy, perhaps, or decorating the living room with his exquisite taste. Something like that. He'd figure it out. Not tonight, though, because there was a fighting tournament tonight, and nothing gave the Iron Bull more of a rush than a good fight. — And truth be told, nothing gave Dorian more of a rush than watching the Iron Bull in the heat of battle, his thick muscles glistening with sweat while he let out animal grunts of effort and made joyful quips. It set off all of Dorian's far more primal urges, the ones he ought to have been very ashamed of. When Bull had wrapped his sweaty arms around him, still laughing and breathing hard, Dorian had huffed and wriggled out of his grasp like a cat that didn't want to be held. However, as the evening wore on and the tournament continued (somehow without Bull, because some tiny little thing had beaten him), Dorian had settled against Bull, then snuggled in close, then crawled into his lap, and then it was time to make a hasty exit. Was it near morning now? There were no windows in this place; Dorian felt like a dwarf. He was only just learning to use a clock to determine the time of day but hadn't quite gotten used to what the numbers were supposed to mean. The sun might have been shining outside, or it could have still been the dead of night. What he did know was that he was sore, he knew he was likely to have bruises on his back (the sort he liked, the ones that ached and gave him a thrilling little reminder of how he'd gotten them). He was tired, the sort of exhaustion that wasn't the same as being sleepy, like he'd been wound up too tight for hours and now he could finally rest, draped against his lover, head on his chest. He could feel Bull's heartbeat against his cheek. There was no better feeling than this. There was no other position Bull would have rather been in. Discounting the fact that there was no other position Bull was able to actually sleep in, given his horns. But even if that hadn’t hindered things, sweaty, blissed out Iron Bull was far more comfortable than he ever thought possible when he had Dorian draped across his chest. Qunari didn’t put much stock into sex. They saw the Tamas, popped a cork, done with it. Once he was past being a full agent and working with the Mercs, things were a lot more lax, but Bull still didn’t go out of his way to make meaningful connections. He liked making his bed partners feel good, he liked feeling just as good. But there was never anything behind it. That had changed with this vain, shit-talking Vint. Dorian had effectively wormed his way into Bull’s bed, and his heart a lot quicker than Bull would have admitted to years ago. There had been an attraction from the start, from Bull’s end (and he knew from Dorian’s end, even if the Vint never would have admitted it back then), and enough of a pull to really throw invitations Dorian’s way. Hell, Bull had not bedded another person since he started sleeping with Dorian. Over two years ago. Shit. It hadn’t been as long parted from Dorian as the other way around, but that didn’t minimize his response to his lover in the least. Bull went all in if they’d been parted for six months or a week, but things got a little more amped up when it came to sex after a fight. Adrenaline coursing through his veins after pumping himself up with talking dragon strategies and the thought that they’d be going hunting in a matter of days after that magnificent beast-- He was almost getting riled up just thinking it over again. Almost. Thankfully, he had been pretty sated to begin with. Peeking down at Dorian, he knew his lover wasn’t asleep yet, the breathing wasn’t right. “You better not be overthinking things, Kadan.” Dorian let out a huff of breath that substituted a laugh, and he tipped his head to press a soft kiss against Bull's chest. He was generally talkative, but much of it was smoke and mirrors — he liked to chatter, he liked to praise himself, he liked to sigh and roll his eyes at things that got under his skin in either a good or bad way. Bull had certainly gotten under his skin, had carved out a little part of his heart and settled there. This Qunari, of all people. This barbaric, savage, obnoxious Qunari. At first, Dorian had been willing to blame it on some sort of raw sexual attraction, some embarrassing tension that he needed to work out in order to move on with his life. And now, it … Well. It was different. "How could I think at all, now? There's nothing left of me," he murmured, lips brushing over a scar. It was a clever quip of an answer typical of Dorian, who didn't like to talk about his feelings. However, it was half-hearted, a reflex. He was always more vulnerable and open in times like this, when things were quiet and he felt like a wild and willful horse that had been tamed. (He also had a mind for poetic metaphors, and liked to picture it that way.) So it was only a moment later when he went on: "You have no idea how happy I am." Bull barked a quiet laugh. It was rough, his throat had been overtaxed between screaming, fighting, roaring and everything that came after in the privacy of their bed. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, everything had… settled. Nicely. Bull’s muscles were loose as the rest of him, barely even protesting as he shifted slightly to squeeze the arm that was wrapped around Dorian’s shoulders. “You always think, Dorian. Even when you say you aren’t.” Bull’s full fingers stroked along Dorian’s bare skin, drifting aimlessly. Luckily he was still too tired to do anything about his earlier thoughts, even if his brain was fully active, his body was ready for the break, so his fingers didn’t serve to do anything more than comfort, at this stage. But they stopped when Dorian made his statement. His words immediately made Bull’s heart skip a beat. Maker damned, he had it bad. He’d been so careful about not pressuring Dorian, not spooking him. Hell, for as long as they’d been doing this, Bull had never done more than air out their dirty laundry for play. But that was different. That was the only way he knew how to get Dorian out of his shell. This was-- Them. Alone. It was an entirely different story when Dorian reached out to him instead of just responding in kind. He had to be careful about his next words, to not run the risk of appearing too eager and making Dorian huff and take it back, or being too casual about the whole thing. “Think I got a small idea, you were shouting it pretty loud earlier.” He paused, letting his fingers resume their path. “And I figure it’s about as happy as I am, Kadan.” Dorian felt a little twist in his stomach every time the foreign word met his ears. Kadan. It was a word that was just for him, and over the last two -- three years, now, for him -- he'd truly taken to it. "No, it's…" He pressed his lips together, trying to find the right words. Even when he knew what he wanted to say, he didn't want to babble like some sort of idiot, or say to much and expose too much of his heart. "What am I to you?" he asked. Had he really never asked this? In all their time together, had they really just danced around this? Despite all the sex, the snuggling, the pet names, Dorian had always been shy about expressing his genuine feelings, even if his actions proved that he'd keep coming back, even if he referred to Bull as his amatus. The question hung in the air, far too vulnerable, and Dorian sighed, glancing away. "I mean, I assume if you're willing to wait for me while I'm off playing politics in Tevinter, I must hold some of your interest, and I don't think that you're playing around with other people," he said dismissively. Bull’s eye widened slightly, unable to mask the surprise that bubbled up that Dorian even had to ask. Hadn’t he been clear in the past-- no, no he had not. Upon further reflection, going back through every conversation that got the least bit heavy, and while Bull had certainly brought up feelings before, Dorian had always deflected to a degree that kept Bull from pushing too hard. He strived to be what his partner needed, not what would scare them off. It was one of the things that set him apart from a lot of people, and he knew it. “Maker’s saggy balls,” Bull’s words were under his breath as he huffed out a sigh at the same point. He shifted, moving carefully (to not snag his horns on either Dorian or any of their blankets) so he could lean over Dorian and stare down at him. He could take in all of Dorian in one single sweep of his eye easily, but the stare was calculated, long and full of emotions. “Hold some of my interest. Ha.” Before Dorian could bristle at that, Bull carried on. “More like all of it. You’re my damn heart, Dorian. My everything. I moved the Chargers so we could work next to the Tevinter border while you played politics, so I could keep an eye on things. And be available if the tides changed and you needed me. There hasn’t been anybody else, and there isn’t gonna be anybody else. Just my mouthy Vint that wormed his way into my heart, and I’m pretty damned content with that.” Dorian fell back against the pillows when Bull shifted. He always felt small when Bull was over him — he always felt small with Bull regardless. The man was massive and overwhelming, and almost enough to handle all of Dorian. While Bull spoke, Dorian listened solemnly, and he found that he forgot to breathe. Part of him had known that was true, but Dorian had been too afraid to ask out loud. He didn't want to risk disappointment, didn't want to get his hopes up and realize that he'd horribly miscalculated. No one had ever wanted him this way before. No one had wanted to take things seriously, of course it was understandable that Dorian hadn't wanted to address anything directly. And fears aside, he'd thought he didn't need to ask, because he knew the answer — but it was so much better to be plainly told. He reached up, his thumb brushing against Bull's lip. "Festis bei umo canavarum," he murmured, his throat feeling dry and his eyes feeling less than dry. You will be the death of me. Bull hummed quietly as he leaned in to kiss Dorian, not thorough enough to get distracted from feelings (ha! he won!) but enough to show at least a little affection amidst this heavier conversation. While he knew Dorian liked his weight, he held himself up on one arm, keeping braced carefully through all of this. All of this… it had never been what Bull had expected when he first challenged Dorian to enter his room. Hell, when the first flirting even started. He went for it, because Bull hated having regrets by not doing something. And then it turned out so much fucking better than he had ever anticipated. Months of outrageously good sex with no strings, turned into little heart strings that began tugging and tugging until they were pulled together. And Bull still hadn’t managed to tell Dorian just how important he was to the Qunari. His voice was still smoky and rough, he kept it even lower as he whispered down at his lover, “Nah, Dorian. I’m gonna be the life of you. For as long as you’ll have me.” Dorian sighed heavily and leaned up to kiss him, and when he felt he wasn't being kissed enough he tugged him down a little harder. "Don't say that if you don't mean it," he blurted out as he pulled back. "I…" Here was where he faltered, and he rolled his eyes to look off toward the wall. "I feel rather … strongly about you, and about this, which clearly you've already realized, and even if you're obnoxious and loud and you like to discuss our private business where anyone can listen or read it, I suppose I'll keep you around." He bit his bottom lip and glanced briefly back at Bull. It was almost his way of saying that he approved of the way Bull talked about him, despite the fact that he was flabbergasted in public. No one had ever flaunted him before Bull, no one had ever been proud of having him for a lover. Bull didn’t stop the slow smile from growing on his face, though he did let himself get tugged back down for another kiss in the meantime. An open-mouthed one thanks to that stupid grin of his. He knew this was the closest he was probably going to ever get from hearing the word love from Dorian’s lips, and that was all fine by him. He’d told Varric once that love was too soft of a word, and even then when he didn’t know exactly how he felt, it was right. Because what he felt for Dorian was so much heavier than just love. It was like the passion and the fire of a thousand dragons descending. It was strong, passionate, full of bite and just looking at Dorian got him going at any point of the day. He might’ve had to deal with the idea of Dorian fucking off to Tevinter to save their sorry asses, but he didn’t like being apart for even one day. But that didn’t mean they needed to start professing love. Nah. That kinda talk was for pansies that didn’t have any self-esteem or for Varric’s smutty novels. Even all the while thinking that, Bull still didn’t realize that his words had the exact same meaning, however. “‘Course I fucking mean it, Kadan. When I’m apart from you, I’m not whole.” He brushed his blunted fingers against the Vint’s mustache. “So I suppose, I’ll let you keep me.” Dorian basked in attention. He liked to be petted and complimented and fawned over, but it felt very different when Bull was the one doing it. I'm not whole. Dorian was beginning to wonder why he'd been so skittish about talking about feelings before. Fear of rejection, embarrassment that he'd fallen in love with some Qunari savage … it all seemed unimportant, really. "Sometimes I feel like I'm only living for the days when I see you," he admitted. "The sending crystal isn't enough, but I don't know what I'd do without it. It's…" He felt like his words were ringing hollow, they weren't getting his point across. "You're a dreadful brute of a man and I can't stand you," he muttered instead, even while his fingertips were walking up over the curve of Bull's bicep and up to his shoulder. "We could have simply kept this private and playful and brief, but you had to keep your door unlocked, and you had to smile that way that you smile." That smile was making a fast appearance, genuine and warm, full of devotion and love and that passion was creeping up again while Bull looked down at Dorian. He was used to the blustery part of this conversation, when Dorian turned it around on hating him, but the first part was a joy enough to hear that he was savoring it. Who knew that time away from each other and patience would do the trick? … Well, Bull had had an inkling there. He knew what Dorian was like, he understood where the Vint had been coming from, and even if he often disregarded those feelings for airing things out in the open - parading Dorian around - he still knew why the younger man kept things as they were. Bull also knew that he was still something forbidden. And they both liked that. “Could’ve,” Bull agreed with a rumble, “But do you want that? Keeping things private? Get my own room, lock it away from you. Keep you away? ‘Cause I can’t think of anything worse than that, kadan.” "No," Dorian said honestly. "I don't want to keep things private." He hadn't said it out loud before, had never explicitly voiced his approval for the way Bull talked about him. He'd never voiced his disapproval, either, when it came to Bull loudly proclaiming details about their relationship. In fact, he'd sort of joined in recently. It flew in the face of everything his father had wanted for him. He reached up, running his hand over the length of Bull's right horn. "I'm not ashamed of you," he said after a moment. "I'm proud of you. Of us." “Well, fuck.” Bull was always so careful with words, overly aware of his surroundings and with the main purpose of being there for Dorian’s comfort. Or annoyance, depending on what his lover needed to get off his chest. But this time, he couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out when Dorian surprised him yet again. And in a way, he was a little like Dorian in the fact that he had never expected this for himself. Never sought out a long-term lover. Never even really wanted the pressure. But damn, Dorian was good for him. Made him feel like he was a thousand Qunari…. rather than a hundred. Bull just had a lot less shame when it came to… well, anything, and so if he was going to go for something, why not shout it from the rooftops instead of quietly appreciate it behind closed doors. He blinked (winked) down at Dorian, slowly. “Hope you’re not feeling too sore, kadan. Because I’m feeling the urge to show you just how proud of you I am. Again.” Dorian chuckled, giving Bull's horn a tug. "What? You're not satisfied? You haven't wrecked me enough for one evening? What did I ever do to deserve this, mm?" He sighed heavily and shoved his lover back onto the mattress. He was quick to climb over him, straddling his waist and settling comfortably with his hands against Bull's chest. Another quip was on its way, but he distracted himself with one of Bull's scars, his fingertips tracing the line of it before finding another. He liked all sorts of men, of various types and builds, but no one quite struck at such primal instincts as Bull did. Looking at him was a constant distraction. "Whatever, indeed," he murmured, mouth twitching into a vague, thoughtful smile. He pressed his palms flat against Bull's chest and tried to touch as much skin as he could, fingers splayed wide. "My hands stay free this time, amatus." If he’d wanted to, he could have easily dominated this entire situation, but Bull liked it when Dorian took control. He liked it when Dorian relinquished control, too, it was all a power play with them. A very, very sexy power play. Bull settled his hands on Dorian’s hips, grinning up at his lover. His love. His heart. His encounter was similar and yet still worlds apart from nearly three years ago when Dorian first started sneaking into his room. The passion and lust had always been there, never waning, but now there was that measure of comfort, of control that either of them had no issues taking or giving up. “No gag, either,” Bull joked, grin spreading across his face so much that he was in dimpled territory. “Gotta leave that tongue free so you can whisper all these love words to me.” He bucked his hips slightly, reminding Dorian that he was at the bottom and craving attention. “Get to work then, Kadan. I’m waiting.” |