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The first time Dorian found himself in the Iron Bull’s room, they were both drunk, though not as drunk as he would make it sound later. It started in the tavern, of course. Dorian had been in the library all day, had come down late with his eyes blurred from hours of poring over tiny print in crumbling books, and eaten a cold dinner made of the last picked-over pieces left by everyone else.
It had been a frustrating day of research, the kind that felt like banging his head against a wall, like forcing himself farther and farther into a corner. He badly wanted it out of his head, and so he went to the tavern for a drink.
Snowflakes were falling in the courtyard, and the biting wind was howling its way over the walls. Something about the place kept the snow from piling up inside, but it couldn’t keep out the cold. He could never quite forget that it was winter, that they were high in the mountains. He had a purpose here, of course, but home had always been lush gardens and warm nights and he didn’t think he’d ever quite be used to any other weather.
The tavern drew him in with its light and its warmth, the laughter coming muffled through the walls. It was warmer inside, but it prickled at him in a different way. The soldiers were standoffish to him, he always felt as if he could feel them staring when he wasn’t looking, moving to fill spaces they thought he might want to sit down. Often he could enjoy the attention, the knowledge that all eyes were on him, but that night he was just tired.
He got himself a glass of wine, the driest darkest red on offer, which was barely passable, and scanned the place for an empty corner.
The Iron Bull would have been hard to miss in the crowd, even if Dorian weren’t actively looking for him. He sat a full head taller than the other Chargers in the corner they staked out for themselves. Their group was always the noisiest in the tavern, the Bull laughing the loudest of them all. He was on the end of a bench, lounging against the wall with an almost comically-large tankard in hand.
The Bull saw him. Their eyes met, and the Bull’s one eye glittered, in a way that Dorian felt like a little jolt inside his ribcage, and made him quickly look away.
“Dorian! Join us!” the Bull called, waving him over.
He sighed, and scanned the room once more, looking for somewhere empty and quiet, which simply did not exist in the tavern at this time in the evening. He made a show of rolling his eyes, and went to join the Chargers.
The Bull said something to Krem who was seated beside him, which Dorian couldn’t hear. The two of them scooted apart to make space on the bench. Dorian slid himself between them, and found himself very close to the Bull. He had to hold himself stiffly to keep their legs from touching.
One of the other Chargers was saying something, lost to Dorian’s ears in the noise of the crowd and the shuffle of joining them. The Bull laughed so loud it made Dorian recoil.
He set his wine glass delicately on the table in front of him, and placed an arm on either side to protect it. There were lots of weapons on the table, cards and other game pieces, things being jostled and thrown.
In some ways, the Chargers were preferable to the rest of the tavern. They were used to Krem, from Tevinter as well, and the Bull who had never kept it a secret that he had been Ben-Hassrath. They were a little more used to seeing past the factions people had come from, and didn’t give Dorian a second look, but they were obnoxious enough that it hardly counted.
“Long day?” the Bull asked him. It was a simple question, but if Dorian was reading it correctly, it was more genuine than teasing.
“I suppose,” Dorian said. He swirled the wine in his glass, and knocked back half of it in a gulp. The flavor certainly wasn’t worth savoring. He glanced at the Bull, and couldn’t get a read on him. Things had been strange, lately. What had started as relentless flirting, sometimes outright propositioning, had eased off, turned into something more like actual conversation.
“Not sure how you can stand it, reading books all day,” the Bull said. “I’d lose my mind being cooped up in there. Not that what you do is boring, you know.”
Dorian laughed, once, dryly. “Oh believe me, it’s incredibly dull,” he said. He took another sip of his wine. He was already close to the bottom of the glass, and could feel it a little, making it just a bit easier to talk, to shake the day off. “And the Inquisition’s library is just dreadful. It completely lacks anything that would actually be useful.”
“What do you need?” the Bull asked. “I can keep an eye out.” He tapped a finger next to his one eye to emphasize the joke.
Dorian gave him the most dramatic groan he could manage. He finished off the rest of his wine. “Well, if you’re really offering, anything at all about Tevinter would be useful, particularly genealogies or histories.”
“Old ‘Vints. Got it.”
Dorian glanced at him, wanting to study his face, see what he could find there, but found it hard to look right at him. The scars, the horns, really did something for him, and for him to be nice on top of it was a little too much. “Thank you,” he said.
“Eh, don’t mention it,” the Bull said with a wave of his hand. Dorian watched the way his fingers moved.
Farther down the bench, someone joined the group, and there was a lot of pushing and shoving to make space. Krem elbowed Dorian, and he found himself with no space left on either side. He had Krem pressed against one shoulder, and his hip against the Bull’s thigh with no space to move away. He held himself very rigid, and the Bull laughed.
“I don’t bite unless you want me to,” he said, and nudged Dorian. Ah, there it was. He had been wondering when the flirting would come back.
Dorian shoved him back, lightly. “I don’t have entirely enough alcohol in me for that,” he said.
The Bull looked down at his empty wineglass. “Let me buy you another drink, then.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say no.” Mostly he was thinking of the long day still lingering in his stiff muscles. He was only thinking a little of the heat coming off the Bull’s body, the smell of him that couldn’t be ignored so close.
The Bull waved to one of the Chargers down at the other end of the table, with easier access to get out of their crowded corner. “Dalish, get us another round, would you?” He rummaged in his pockets, bare arm pressing distinctly against Dorian’s side for a moment, and produced a few coins to toss her.
“What do you want?” she called back across the noisy crowd.
“Whatever swill Cabot has this evening, the vintage Orlesian, if you don’t mind,” Dorian said.
“Another stout for me,” the Bull said. He bumped his arm against Dorian again, and he couldn’t help noticing that sitting side by side, he was hardly taller than the Bull’s shoulder. “Nothing fancy enough for you here?” he asked.
“Hardly,” Dorian said. He let himself relax just a little, so that their arms stayed against each other. He considered his options.
His own room would be dark. The stone walls were always leaching in the cold from outside. His blankets were always a little too thin, no matter how many extra he found to pile on his bed. Meanwhile, the Bull beside him was very warm; he could feel the warmth of his skin even through his sleeve. He regretted just a little, his choice of outfit that day, since some of his other ones would have allowed him bare skin against bare skin.
It wasn’t as if there weren’t men to fuck. It worked the same at Skyhold as anywhere in Tevinter. But the Bull’s offers were always for something a little more involved than the brief encounters in disused back hallways Dorian had had since he found himself there.
Dalish returned with several drinks in hand, which were passed down the table. Dorian was handed a very full glass of wine. He supposed quantity over quality would have to suffice, and he took a long sip.
“Hey,” the Bull said, “there specific books you’re looking for? Maybe you could write me a list.”
“Oh,” he said. “Well, let me think.” Several titles came to mind, basic reference guides the library was lacking. He kept a small pad of paper and pencil on him for taking notes during his research; he pulled it out and wrote down the books he was thinking of.
“You come across bookstores often in your mercenary work?” Dorian asked.
“More abandoned castles, but you never know what shit you’ll find in those.” The Bull leaned in to look at the list, pressing just a little further into Dorian’s space.
Dorian chewed on the end of his pencil and sipped at his wine while he tried to think of what other books he might need. The Bull was very close. He could smell the worn leather of the harness he wore in place of a shirt, and, more faintly, smells like rich, dark beer, and lingering sweat from a day of hard practice.
He traced his eyes up over the outlines of jaw and stubble and horn. The Bull caught him looking, and their eyes met. Instead of looking away, Dorian found himself returning the gaze. He bit down on the pencil in his mouth, ran his tongue along the edge of it ever so slightly.
“See something you like?” the Bull asked.
“Well, I can’t say I dislike it,” he said.
He turned back to the small notepad on the table in front of him. He wrote down a couple more titles, though he wasn’t sure they were correct. The Bull shifted a little more, so that their legs were pressed fully against each other.
Dorian took a long sip of his wine. He was getting close to the end of the second large glass. He could feel the wavering creeping in at the edges, the faint feeling of alcohol in his system. It was enough that he could blame it, maybe. Enough that perhaps it could loosen his tongue just enough.
“Bull,” he said, just loud enough to be heard in the crowded room. “Does your offer still stand?”
“Which one?” the Bull asked. He leaned in close, and a slow grin crept across his face.
“You’ve promised me so many things, I can hardly be bothered to remember them all.” He finished his wine, and had to look away, scan the faces of the other Chargers around them. Most weren’t paying attention, but Krem was doing a good job of pretending not to listen in.
“I’ve said it before–for you, my door’s always open.” The Bull traced a single finger across the back of his hand, and Dorian felt it radiating out through his whole body.
“I have half a mind to take you up on it,” he said, “but you may need to buy me another drink first.”
“Whatever you need,” the Bull said. He called to one of the Chargers again, and more money was thrown across the table.
While they waited for the drinks to be brought back, the Bull shifted, casually, and moved his hand beneath the table to trail his fingers across Dorian’s thigh. Dorian bit down hard on his pencil. Then he rested the tip against his paper as if he were going to write, but nothing at all came to mind. The Bull traced the tips of his fingers ever so lightly up and then back down again. Dorian bit his lip.
The drinks were brought. The Bull removed his hand to take his fresh tankard, and Dorian felt the absence pointedly.
He took his own new glass of wine, and stared down into the dark surface. In the dim light, he could just see the outline of the Bull’s reflection in it, when he tilted his head the right way. He thought of one more book that might be useful, and he wrote down the title.
“That’s everything I can think of, but I’ll let you know if anything else comes to mind,” he said. He tore the sheet from his notepad. He almost handed it to him, but then he folded it up, and traced it down the Bull’s hip to slide into his pocket. He trailed his hand back up, and hooked two fingers into the top of his belt.
He pressed his knuckles against the Bull’s body, and was surprised at how soft his skin was. He was overwhelmed with the sudden desire to run his tongue across it.
The attraction had been there for a long time, of course. It had been weeks ago that he first noticed the way his eyes were always drawn to the Bull in a crowd, that he found himself looking for him when he moved through the castle. There had been nights, out on missions with the Inquisitor, that he had sat across the fire from the Bull, watched the way the shadows moved across the expanse of his chest and his arms, and thought of things like skin against skin and tongue against tongue.
He couldn’t say exactly why he was finally brave enough for it that night, only that it had been a long time coming. It had been a long day, and he was tired, and the Bull was the first person who had offered him any help with the grueling work he’d volunteered himself for. If anyone asked, he supposed he could always say he’d been drunk.
He drained as much of his glass as he could manage in one go. “Do you think we might…” he began, but the words died in his mouth, and he found he couldn’t quite ask outright. He was used to implying interest through subtle nods and the like, wordless signals once he’d found the places where men went looking for this sort of thing.
“You wanna get out of here?” the Bull asked. His voice was low, and deep, hardly louder than a whisper and very close to Dorian’s ear.
Dorian could only nod. He tugged on the Bull’s belt and then released him. “I’d prefer to follow you in a few minutes,” he said.
“Suit yourself,” the Bull said, and then he leaned in so close that Dorian could feel his breath on his neck to say, “I’ll be waiting for you.” He stood, and stepped over the bench, and made a big show of stretching and yawning. “Gonna turn in for the night,” he announced to the gathering of mercenaries.
“Awfully early, don’t you think, chief?” Krem said.
The Bull just laughed, and headed up the stairs to his room above the tavern. Dorian glanced over his shoulder once, to catch a glimpse of his ass before he turned the corner.
Hardly a minute had passed before Krem elbowed him. “How long you going to pretend like you’re not about to run after him?”
He rolled his eyes, and sipped his wine. “I’d prefer the entire Inquisition not know. Though I’m sure they’ll find out eventually.”
It was a small enough community, all living in close proximity. Word of everyone’s doings spread fast, there would be no way around that. He drank his wine slowly, and told himself he didn’t need to care what they thought.
Krem left him to finish his wine in peace, which had been all he really wanted out of the evening. He found himself in the space the Bull had been sitting, now that there was room for everyone to spread out on the bench again. He imagined he could smell the scent of leather, lingering in the air. Half the tavern wore leather, though; it could have been coming from anywhere.
He finished the last of his wine, and stared down into the empty glass. He still felt much more sober than he would have liked, but no one else needed to know that. He only wobbled the slightest bit when he stood.
“Tell the chief we all say hello, will you?” Krem said.
Dorian groaned in disgust. He headed for the front door, out into the courtyard, the cold night. He closed it behind him, and leaned against the wall a moment, listening to the sounds of conversation behind him, now muffled once again. He watched his breath fog in the air. He entertained the thought of his own bedroom, just reminding himself of his options.
Then, he turned and walked up the stairs to the room above the tavern. He was alone out there, and the sky sparkled with stars above. Clouds covered and uncovered the moon, as they raced by in the ever-present wind of the mountains. He paused outside the door, unsure what he was waiting for, until a big gust of wind came whistling over the wall and set him shivering. He knocked on the door.
The Bull opened it. He was right there on the other side, towering over Dorian, his presence enormous in a way he hadn’t experienced before. Sitting side by side down in the tavern was the closest they had been, but to see the Bull standing before him was something else entirely.
“Weren’t sure you would actually show up,” he said, his face breaking into a grin. He grabbed Dorian by the wrist, and pulled him inside, out of the cold, and shut the door against the mountain wind. His hand wrapped so easily around Dorian’s wrist, and he didn’t let go.
Dorian felt his cheeks getting warm. “Yes, well…” he said, but again he was at a loss for words.
The Bull stepped towards him, and Dorian found himself with his back against the door. He leaned in close, mouth below Dorian’s ear, not quite touching him yet. He hovered, waiting, the only contact still the wrist pinned in his grasp. “Now the question is, do you know what you’re getting yourself into?”
Dorian rolled his eyes. “Yes, I have some idea what your proclivities are,” he said. “If you recall, you’ve asked multiple times if you could tie me up. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t share some interest.”
“Oh good,” he said. “You got a watchword, for stuff like that?”
“Come again?” Dorian said.
“Oh I intend to,” the Bull said. “But I’d like to make you cum a couple times first. Watchword, though. Things get too rough, or you just don’t like it, you say it and we stop. I usually use ‘ katoh ’ if you want to keep it simple.”
Experimentally, he twisted his wrist in the Bull’s grasp, and the Bull held tighter.
“Very well,” he said. “Now can we get on with it?” He reached up and grabbed onto the Bull’s harness.
He smiled in a different way than Dorian had seen before, with lots of teeth and narrowed eye. “Yeah, we can do that,” he said. He lifted Dorian’s wrist and pinned it against the door, over his head, and then they were kissing.
Dorian melted into it, and felt it coursing through his body. The Bull’s mouth was hot against his, and his stubble was rough against his face in the most delicious sort of way. He kissed more gently than Dorian might have imagined, all soft lips, short kisses. He had to lean down, and Dorian had to crane his neck back so they could meet in the middle.
He pulled on the harness, and the Bull pressed their bodies together, pushing Dorian hard against the door. He pressed his knee between Dorian’s legs, and the feeling shot through him. He moaned against the Bull’s mouth.
The Bull grinned–with his eyes closed, Dorian couldn’t see it, but he could feel it. He slid his tongue out, across the Bull’s lips, tracing the outlines of scars that crossed them. In turn, the Bull wrapped his fingers around the back of Dorian’s neck, and rocked their hips together, starting to feel out the first hints of a rhythm together.
He could feel the outline of the Bull’s cock, pressing against him. It was so large he maybe should have been worried, but found himself only intrigued. He wanted to touch it, but it was on the side where his hand was pinned. He rubbed his body against it instead, and the Bull made a sort of quiet growl.
He let go of the harness with his free hand, and moved it up the Bull’s chest, feeling the softness of his skin, the dips of scars. He felt his way up the side of his neck, across the crinkles where skin gave way to horn, and out across the hard, flat expanse beyond. It had the texture of wood worn smooth, faintly ridged between the sharper edges. Dorian ran his hand up and down it, and the Bull made a small sound, and leaned into the touch.
He brought his hand around to cup Dorian’s chin, and tilt his head to the side. He pushed just hard enough to show that he could push much harder if he wanted. He didn’t need to, though; Dorian let himself be moved about; he gripped his horn and pulled him in.
The Bull kissed his neck, pressing his face into the corner of his shoulder. It sent a shivery feeling across Dorian’s skin, that made his knees go weak. He wrapped an ankle around the Bull’s leg, and then the Bull grabbed his thigh and pulled it up, against his side, digging his fingers in hard.
“I don’t know that I can stay upright much–,” Dorian started to say, and then the Bull bit his neck, just hard enough to hurt, and his words broke off in a gasp. “Much longer,” he said, voice shaking.
“I can hold you up,” the Bull said, lips moving against his skin with the words.
Dorian held his horn tight, and twisted his hips against the Bull’s. He hit something right, because they both gasped a little. “I’m asking you to take me to bed,” he said.
“Oh, well, I can do that too,” he said.
The Bull turned them around, hardly letting Dorian’s feet touch the floor before he pushed him down on the bed. When Dorian tried to rise, just a little to adjust his position, he placed a hand in the center of his chest and pushed him down again.
He straddled Dorian. He gathered both his wrists in one hand, and pinned them against the pillows above his head, supporting himself with his free hand.
Dorian shifted, trying to see how much leeway he had, and found that he could hardly move. The Bull held himself with a great deal of control under the nonchalance. He was aware how big he was, that he could really hurt Dorian if he wasn’t careful, and there was a great deal of care in the way he carried himself, even if Dorian wasn’t supposed to see it.
He moved his eyes up, across the Bull’s body, taking in the solid weight of him, the movement of his ribcage with every breath. His mouth watered.
“Let me go,” Dorian said, struggling against his grip. “I want to taste you.”
The Bull laughed, and he placed a finger against Dorian’s lips. He pressed it in just far enough to get slick with saliva, to glide when he moved it. Dorian licked the pad of his fingertip, leaned up to try and pull it into his mouth, but the Bull drew his hand back.
“So needy,” he said. “Not yet.”
He moved his hand to Dorian’s collar, and started to work on the buckles. He undid them expertly with one hand, and seemed to catch on quickly to which were structural, and which were purely decorative. He shifted as he worked, and Dorian pressed up against him, rubbing their cocks together through the thick layers of fabric, the touch so muffled it hardly provided any relief.
He got Dorian’s shirt open, and gently moved the pieces of it aside, exposing his chest, his stomach, to the cool air. The Bull’s gaze moved across him, following the trail of hair down to where their bodies met, and then moving back up to meet Dorian’s eyes.
It was dark in the Bull’s room, lit only by the glowing embers of the fire. The warm light glittered in his eye, and across the silver eyepatch.
He released Dorian’s wrists, and Dorian wriggled out of his shirt, casting it aside. He grabbed the Bull’s horns, and pulled him down into a greedy, hungry kiss. The Bull eased himself down, lowering his weight carefully, until their bare chests were flat against each other.
Dorian kissed him, and he wrapped his legs around the Bull, to grind their bodies together, moaning against his mouth. He eased back into the pillows, pulling the Bull down with him, pulling his weight more fully onto himself. He could hardly breathe beneath him, and he wanted more.
The Bull propped himself up again, and got a hand between them. He went straight to rubbing at Dorian’s cock through his pants, pressing his fingers firmly against it, running them up and down until Dorian had to break away from the kiss to gasp with each little movement.
He sat back, and undid the buckles across the front of Dorian’s pants. He dipped a hand down between the layers of fabric, and rubbed at his cock until Dorian was squirming beneath him, and then he pulled back.
Dorian sat up, long enough to kick off his boots and get out of the rest of his clothes. He stopped for a moment then, sitting on the bed in front of the Bull, fully naked now and feeling exposed in a way he hadn’t to another person in a very long time.
They were sitting, facing each other. The Bull reached across, and he placed his fingers against Dorian’s neck, his thumb against his mouth. “Fuck, you’re pretty,” he said.
“So I’ve heard,” Dorian said, feeling the Bull’s thumb against his lips. Then he felt terribly arrogant, and not in a way he liked, so he added, “Thank you.”
His hands went to the Bull’s harness again. He held on, and used it to pull himself up to his knees, and the Bull didn’t even budge. He undid the buckle, and let the straps fall away. The Bull shrugged out of it, revealing the tattoos on his shoulder beneath.
Dorian leaned in, and traced over the tattoos. The Bull wrapped an arm around him, and pulled him in so that he was straddling one of his legs, their chests flush against each other. He took Dorian’s cock in his hand; he touched it slowly, teasingly, running his thumb down the side of it, circling a finger across the head. He considered himself well-endowed, but the Bull’s hand was large enough to cover the whole length.
He wrapped his arms around the Bull’s neck, and let himself melt into the touch. He pressed his nose into the crook between neck and shoulder, breathing his smell in deeply. The Bull started to pick up the pace, working him over more deliberately, and he rocked his hips into it.
He kissed at the Bull’s neck, using his tongue, his teeth, settling into the steady movement with him. He could taste the day’s work on his skin, the slight tang of salt. When he bit, the Bull would hiss and tighten his grip. Dorian moaned against his skin and fucked into his hand. His cock was starting to leak.
The Bull slowed, loosened his grip. Dorian let out a whine before he could stop himself. “What are you doing?” he demanded.
“Not gonna make it that easy for you,” he said with a laugh.
He slid his hand around Dorian’s hip and grabbed his ass hard. He felt downward, and pressed his fingers in to rub against his hole. Dorian hissed in sharply at the new sensation.
The Bull gave him no time to savor it. He unwrapped Dorian’s arms from his neck, then, and pushed him back, guiding him down to the bed.
Among other humans, Dorian was often the tallest in a room. He had rarely been with a man taller than himself, and now to feel so small, so easily moved about, was an entirely new experience.
The Bull wasn’t done yet, either. Instead of joining Dorian, he climbed off the bed entirely. He grabbed his legs and pulled him around to the edge. He wanted to protest being manhandled in such a way, but as he looked up at the Bull above him, holding his thighs so tight the flesh dipped beneath his fingers, the words became strangled in his throat.
Without a word, the Bull knelt to the ground before him. He grabbed his hips, and pressed his face against his thighs. He kissed the skin, and ran his fingers through the coarse hair above Dorian’s cock. He bit down on his inner thigh, and sucked at it, and Dorian moaned; he wrapped his legs around the Bull’s shoulders as best he could, trying to pull him closer, but he had little leverage.
He moved upward, sucking bruises into the soft flesh while all Dorian could do was moan beneath his touch. He ran his tongue along the crease between thigh and pelvis, licked his balls. Then, finally, he licked up the shaft of his cock and pulled it into his mouth. Dorian gasped, and clutched at the blankets, fingers curling beyond his control.
The Bull looked up at him, met his gaze. Dorian felt his cheeks burn, and he had to close his eyes. It was too much to look at him.
The Bull started to suck, curling his tongue against the underside of his cock, his mouth hot and wet, enveloping him. Dorian was reduced to gasping, moaning, holding on for dear life; he felt if he lost his grip on the blankets he would be swept away entirely. He couldn’t even think clearly enough to swear.
And then the Bull grabbed his legs, and moved them up to hook his knees over his horns. It sent a whole new wave of sensation through him. He arced up into it, fucking into the Bull’s mouth with as much leverage as he could get. He was bent almost in half, and he braced his feet against the Bull’s back, and reached up to grab the tips of his horns. He felt the Bull grin around his cock. Every small shift of his head moved Dorian’s entire body.
The Bull wasn’t quite moaning, certainly not as loudly as Dorian was, but he was making small sounds, a growling, humming kind of thing. When he really got Dorian going, he would sound very pleased with himself. The way he sucked Dorian’s cock was relentless, almost. He never let it out of his mouth for a moment.
Dorian could feel the orgasm building, the sensation getting closer. It came on him very suddenly, when the Bull eased back just enough to swirl his tongue around the head of his cock, and then pulled the whole thing back into his mouth.
It burst through Dorian. His legs locked, clamping down against the Bull. He threw his head back and tried to bite back a wail as he came in his mouth. He trembled in the Bull’s grip, as he continued to suck Dorian’s cock through the last receding waves of it.
The Bull held his cock in his mouth a moment longer, easing back on the pressure but not letting go just yet. Dorian let go of his horns and fell back onto the bed. The Bull sucked once, gently, and Dorian shuddered, wracked with overstimulation.
The Bull drew back, grinning wide, and made sure Dorian was looking as he swallowed the mouthful of cum.
“Wow, you came hard,” he said, pushing Dorian’s legs off himself. They fell with a dead weight, and Dorian just lay there, staring vaguely upward.
“Sweet Maker,” he murmured.
“That good, huh?” the Bull said. He rose stiffly, and stretched.
“Not terrible, I suppose,” he said. He could hardly remember the last time he came so hard.
He watched through half-closed eyes as the Bull unclasped his own belt and stepped out of his pants, the last clothing left on either of them. That got his attention again, and he propped himself up on an elbow, as best he could manage, to take in the Bull’s naked form.
His cock was huge, just absolutely enormous. Dorian had never particularly considered himself a size queen, but this might be the end of that.
“Impressed?” the Bull said, cupping a hand beneath his own half-hard cock.
“I’ve seen larger,” Dorian said, laying back, still melting from the orgasm. His limbs were heavy with it.
“You know, for some reason I doubt that.” He knelt on the bed, and prodded at Dorian’s side, clearly trying to get him to move.
Dorian shuffled just enough to allow him some space, but the Bull pushed him hard. He picked Dorian up entirely, and put him down with his head on the pillows. If he hadn’t just cum, he thought he would be entirely hard again.
“Roll over,” the Bull said.
“You’re not going to allow me a moment’s rest, are you?” he asked, in the most put-upon, dramatic voice he could manage.
“Absolutely not,” the Bull said. “Was thinking next I’d eat you out and then fuck you ‘til you’re crying.”
“Well,” Dorian said, “if you insist.” He ran a hand through his hair, gazing up at the Bull from beneath his heavy eyelids.
“Oh, I do,” the Bull said. He leaned in and placed a hand on either side of Dorian’s head, closing him in. “Now roll over.”
Dorian looked up at him. He bit his lip, and allowed himself a small smile. “Make me.”
The Bull did his best to suppress the grin that flickered across his face. He placed a hand on Dorian’s throat, and pressed down ever so slightly. Dorian gasped, but found it hard to get the sound out. He reached up and grabbed the Bull’s wrist with both hands; instead of trying to push him off, which seemed the reasonable thing with someone’s hand wrapped around his throat, he pulled him in farther. The Bull squeezed, just enough to hint at restricting air. It was enough that Dorian could feel his cock already starting to get hard again. He moaned, as much as he could, and pressed up into it.
He let go, moving his hand to Dorian’s shoulder instead. It took very little effort for him to push Dorian over onto his stomach. He placed a hand on the back of Dorian’s head, he pushed his face down into the pillows, and bit at his neck. He whimpered, muffled, into the mattress, and was almost embarrassed by the sound. He wondered how bruised he would be from all this in the morning.
The Bull moved down, pinning Dorian’s legs below his own. He ran his hands down his sides, so that Dorian could feel the calluses on his fingers moving across the sensitive skin. The Bull’s huge hands on either side of his body made him feel very small.
He moved his hands across Dorian’s ass, grabbing hard, running his thumbs along the crease in the middle, spreading him open. He nudged his legs apart, and pulled his hips up slightly. He shuffled in a way Dorian couldn’t see, facedown as he was.
Then he felt the Bull’s face against him again, now from the other side. His tongue slid out across his skin, over his hole. Dorian gasped, hissed, pressed against it. The Bull pulled him in by the hips, fingers digging harshly into his flesh. He licked at him, tongue warm and wet, working him open.
He moaned, and whined as the Bull moved his tongue against him. The sounds he made this time were different; higher, needier.
The Bull pressed his tongue inside.
“Bull…” Dorian gasped out.
He drew back enough to chuckle and say, “that good, huh?”
“Oh shut up,” he said. “If you’re going to tease me about it, I won’t make any sounds for you at all.”
The Bull reached around to cup his balls, and dragged his tongue slowly across his hole, dipping into it. Dorian kept his mouth firmly closed, but he couldn’t keep himself from moaning.
“You sure about that?” the Bull asked.
“You’re impossible,” he said, voice shaking as the Bull licked and moved his mouth, and traced his fingers over his cock. He gave up, and rewarded him with a low keening sound, pressing his face into the pillows, spreading himself open for the Bull.
“Are you–,” he was cut off with a gasp before he could get his question out. He leaned back, so that the Bull could hear him properly, hair falling in his eyes. “Are you going to fuck me at some point here, or do you intend to tease me all night?”
“Oh, that would be fun,” the Bull said. He bit down hard on the side of Dorian’s ass, and got a loud gasp out of him. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Maybe,” Dorian said. “But I’ll be quite upset if you try it tonight.”
He gripped Dorian’s thighs hard, and pulled him in, in a possessive sort of way. “So you might want to do this again?” he asked.
Dorian narrowed his eyes over his shoulder. “You’re pushing your luck an awful lot for someone who still isn’t fucking me.”
“Okay, okay,” the Bull said. He moved to the side, and got a bottle from somewhere beside the bed. It glittered in the firelight, as the Bull poured it into his hand, and it shone on his cock as he worked it over himself. Dorian watched his movements as he got himself ready, the way his huge balls swung slightly, the way he moved his fingers on himself. He tried to memorize it for use at some later time.
Then, he placed two fingers against Dorian’s hole, rubbing the oil in a slow circle over the outside, before pressing in slowly, all the way to the last knuckle. Dorian let out a long, moaning breath.
He drew his fingers back out, and pulled Dorian up by the hips, onto his hands and knees. He placed himself behind him, knees between Dorian’s, and rubbed his cock against his hole, soft and slow. Dorian trembled with the effort of holding himself up; it took all his concentration, all his willpower.
The Bull pressed into him. The stretch was immense. His cock was bigger than anything Dorian had ever taken. He breathed deeply, relaxed as much as he could around it. The Bull eased himself forward slowly, and Dorian hissed, and gasped as he did.
“You doing okay?” the Bull asked.
“Don’t you dare stop now,” Dorian said.
He chuckled, and pushed forward. Dorian kept expecting it to stop, and it kept going. He had never felt so full, so stretched. It was not only long, it was ridiculously girthy. Dorian had been fisted before, in a Tevinter bathhouse, and it was nothing compared to this. He shook with the effort of holding himself up.
Finally, the Bull bottomed out, his hips rested against Dorian’s ass, his balls against Dorian’s. The sensation swelled through him, and he moved ever so slightly against the Bull, feeling it out.
“Well, now we know I can fit,” the Bull said. “Roll back over, I wanna watch you. Bet you look really pretty getting fucked.”
He slid himself back out, slowly, and Dorian found himself so desperate to get it back that he rolled over immediately and without complaint. To his relief, the Bull did not tease him, or make him wait any longer. He pulled Dorian in, pulled his feet up over his shoulders, and slid back in, still going slow and careful. Once he was fully back inside, he paused to let Dorian get used to the sensation.
“If you don’t fuck me, I’m going to scream,” Dorian said. His voice came out high and breathy. He couldn’t manage the bite of annoyance he’d been trying for; he just sounded desperate.
“Thought I’d have to work a little harder to get you screaming,” the Bull said. Before Dorian could groan at the joke, he started to move, and all else was immediately forgotten.
He started with a couple slow thrusts, feeling it out, probably trying to see what Dorian could take without breaking him. Dorian breathed out a Tevene curse, and rocked his hips against the Bull.
The Bull grabbed his thighs, and kissed his ankle, and then started to move for real. He fucked into Dorian with a steady pace, hard and deliberate. Dorian cried out, and grabbed at the Bull, needing something to hold onto. He grabbed his forearms, and the Bull growled, and thrust harder.
He twisted out of Dorian’s grip, and moved his legs up, so that he could hook his ankles over his horns. He pressed forward, folding Dorian over on himself, fucking him harder, pounding him down into the mattress.
“I was right,” he said, his voice gone low and growling. “You do look real pretty.”
He slid a hand up across Dorian’s chest, and slipped two fingers into his mouth. Dorian grabbed onto his wrist with both hands, and sucked his fingers, moaning with each thrust, sound muffled by the Bull’s hand.
“Needy boy,” the Bull said, tracing his thumb across his jaw.
Dorian felt the words go straight to his cock. He was already rock-hard again, already leaking.
He ran his hands up the Bull’s arm, and dragged his nails back down. The Bull moaned for real at that. It was low, and he could feel it rumble through both their bodies.
“Oh yeah, Dorian,” he said. He pushed in hard, up to the base, and rolled his hips. “Scratch me up as much as you want.”
Dorian dragged his nails up and down the Bull’s forearm, watching the lines stand out in the wake of his movement. The Bull fucked hard into him, and tilted his head back, breathing fast and shallow, mouth open. Dorian sucked at his fingers, licked at him, bit down.
“Fuck,” the Bull said, dragging out the word, repeating it a second time as a quick hiss. His cock twitched inside Dorian when he bit his fingers again.
He pulled his fingers out of Dorian’s mouth, dragging them down his chin, trailing lines of spit. “Hey, c’mere,” he said, as if Dorian had much choice about where to be. The Bull gathered him up in his arms and rolled over, cock still deep inside him. He brought them around so that now he was sitting, leaning up against the headboard, and Dorian was in his lap.
“Thought you might like a little more room to move,” the Bull said. He rolled their hips against each other, so Dorian couldn’t answer right away. He leaned his head against the Bull’s shoulder, held onto his horns, and sank into the movement.
“Good guess,” Dorian said, when he let up for a moment.
He raked his nails over the Bull’s shoulders, down his back, dragged them back over and across his chest. The Bull made a kind of rumbling sound as Dorian moved his hands. He pressed his face against the Bull’s neck, so he couldn’t see the small smile that touched his lips.
Then Dorian grabbed his horns again, and kissed him, open-mouthed, tongues moving against each other. The Bull tasted of dark beer and the bitter parts of Dorian’s own body he had tasted. He fucked into Dorian, and they moaned into each other’s mouths as they kissed. Dorian’s own cock rubbed against the Bull’s stomach, slick with both their sweat.
The Bull licked across his jaw, and grabbed his ass, lifting him up a little for a better angle. He kissed down his neck, sucking bruises into the soft flesh. Dorian clung to him, one hand holding a horn so tight his knuckles ached, the other wrapped around the Bull’s neck, fingers digging into his back.
“Fuck, Dorian,” the Bull murmured against his skin.
He did not want it to end. Not ever. He did not want to go back to his cold, empty room, his research, the Inquisition. He didn’t want to think about Corypheus or Tevinter or anything else. But he could feel it building inside him again, and he didn’t think he could hold it off long, even without the Bull touching him. His cock was sliding between them, pressed between their bodies; that would be more than enough, but he also couldn’t bring himself to change the position, to break any of the contact between them.
It built in him, and he bit down hard on the Bull’s neck, whining around the mouthful.
The Bull seemed to understand. He grabbed Dorian’s ass hard with one hand, and pulled his hair with the other. He bounced him up and down on his cock, building the speed.
“You gonna cum for me?” he whispered, low in his ear. He held him close, both of them damp with sweat, both of them gasping. “You gonna let me see how pretty you are when you finish? You gonna let me hear you?”
Dorian let himself get louder, let his moans turn to desperate sobs.
“Yeah, that’s right, just like that,” the Bull murmured, rough stubbled cheek against Dorian’s, lips moving against his skin. “Come on, you can let go. Get it all over me, I wanna feel it.”
Dorian was trembling all over, holding himself rigid, sweat dripping down the side of his face. It was all he could do to hold himself up so the Bull could keep thrusting into him. His cock rubbed between them, and he was so close to the edge.
“Cum for me, Dorian,” the Bull breathed against his ear.
It spilled over him. He wailed, as he came across the Bull’s chest, trembling in his arms, all of it rushing over him in one immense burst. It rocked through him, and he fucked himself on the Bull’s cock, riding out the waves of it.
He collapsed against him, and the Bull wrapped a hand around the back of his head. The Bull held him close, as he trembled through the aftershocks, engulfed in his huge arms, cock still deep inside him.
“Fuck, that was hot,” the Bull said.
“Glad you enjoyed the show,” Dorian said, still struggling to get his breath back.
“My turn,” the Bull said.
He lifted Dorian, who let out a small gasp, and turned them over. It took some maneuvering, but he managed to do it without removing his cock. He laid him out on the bed, and gazed down at him. Dorian knew he must look wrecked; bruised and sweaty and covered in his own cum.
“If you’re still good to keep going, that is,” the Bull added.
“I must say, if you don’t finish inside me after all that, I’m going to be quite upset.” Dorian brushed his hair back from his eyes, and leaned back into the pillows, spreading himself out, inviting the Bull back down.
The Bull laughed. He pushed Dorian’s knees back, gripping his legs, and started to fuck him again. Dorian moaned for him, loudly, rolled his hips and dragged his nails across his arms. Now that he was more in control of himself, he could focus on the things the Bull seemed to like. And the Bull really seemed to be liking it.
He grabbed Dorian’s hips, and leaned his head back, setting a fast pace, thrusting deep. The sounds he made were low, rumbling in the back of his throat.
It was hard to tell if he was getting close, except that he was picking up speed. Dorian held tight to his wrists, pulling him on, encouraging him.
The Bull came all at once, pumping his cum deep inside Dorian’s ass. Dorian wrapped his legs around his waist and held him there. He let out a long groan, and dug his fingers hard into Dorian’s hips.
They stayed there a while, motionless except for their heavy breathing, holding onto each other as they both came down from it.
“Holy shit,” the Bull said, and he laughed.
He pulled out finally, slowly, cum dripping out as he went. Dorian felt strangely emptied, acutely aware of the absence.
The Bull shuffled back, and settled down beside him. Dorian lay atop the blankets, covered in cum and utterly spent. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been fucked that hard, or that well.
Then the Bull did something he was entirely unused to. He grabbed Dorian’s wrist, and pulled him up on top again. He guided Dorian to lie down, head pillowed on his chest. He wrapped his arms around him, and pressed his lips to the top of his head.
“What are you doing, you monster?” Dorian said.
“If you’re gonna fuck somebody as hard as I just fucked you, it seems decent to cuddle them afterwards.” The Bull ran a hand up and down his back.
“ Cuddling ,” he said with disdain, but he made no effort to move. He was exhausted, and it did feel nice enough, beyond the prickling irritation he felt at it. He leaned up, and trailed his fingers across the Bull’s horns.
“We should do that again some time,” the Bull said.
Dorian flicked his horn. “I thought I told you not to push your luck.”
“You telling me you don’t want to cum that hard again?”
He sighed. “We’ll see.”
“Well, hey,” the Bull said, and squeezed his ass. “Whatever you decide later on, I’ll keep an eye out for those books you need.”
He was caught off-guard. He did want the books he had written down on his list, but he thought it had only been a ploy on both their parts to get him here. “Oh,” he said. “Thank you.”
Dorian shifted, thinking about getting up. The Bull folded his arms tighter around him, though, and pressed his face into his hair. “Stay the night, will you?” he said. “It’s cold out there.”