“Watch where you’re pointing that thing!”
“Vishante kaffas, I meant your weapon!”
“Sure you did, ’Vint. My big, heavy ‘weapon’ is all you think about, I bet.”
“As if you were on my mind in any way at all! As if I hadn’t a number of other much more important things to—”
Lavellan suddenly squealed like a frightened fennec. “Giants!” Then she immediately did the worst possible thing and targeted the one furthest from them. They could have taken it easy, approached quietly, pulled one when it was far enough from the others that they wouldn’t all join the battle right away.
Or, they could have shut up and turned around and not attempted to take on a small herd of giants when they were running low on potions and should have headed back to camp an hour ago, if the Inquisitor could stop getting distracted by every herb and abandoned wagon she saw.
Too late now.
In seconds, they were fighting for their lives. Sera peppered the weak spots from behind trees, Dorian threw fire, Lavellan threw barriers, and Iron Bull—as always—threw himself right into the thick of it.
He was trying to take the heat off the others, but there were too many of them. And suddenly, that oversized brute of a qunari looked much, much smaller, surrounded by giants.
Lavellan had a giant on her tail, and she kept running away and tripping over tree roots and doing a terrible job of vanishing or getting it to notice something else and forget about her. Dorian scorched it relentlessly, but he had his own unwanted attention by now, and for a few minutes he was quite busy trying to get Lavellan some help while also not getting flattened.
Their beloved Inquisitor finally scrambled behind a tree and her pursuer turned on Dorian instead. So then Dorian had two giants trying to squash him, and a distinct lack of backup while he ran for his life.
He managed to get a clear shot at a good open vantage point and Fade-stepped there. The giants were too confused to figure out where he’d gone, so they just piled on to the most obvious target—Bull.
Now that Dorian had a minute, he could see why he hadn’t been getting any help. Sera and Lavellan were barely managing to buy Bull enough room to swing his axe. He looked…very bloody. Then Dorian’s two assailants crowded around him, and Dorian lost sight of Bull in the melee.
Fuck, fuck, vishante kaffas.
Bull didn’t have the luxury of picking a target—just swing at whatever was closest to squashing him at any given moment. Sera went for any weak point she could see—she had to; giants didn’t feel arrows much if they didn’t land somewhere vulnerable. And Lavellan, when she was panicking, just threw area of effect spells in the general direction of whatever was bad—as she was doing now.
Dorian took a deep breath, tried to gauge which giant looked the most injured, and began throwing everything he had at that one.
His ears were ringing when the first one fell.
His nose was bleeding when the second one stumbled and Sera got the killing shot right in its eye.
Then someone else got the third—maybe Bull cut its legs out from under it—and Dorian threw whatever he had left at the last two, no longer able to see clearly enough to figure out which one to target, just hoping everyone had enough life left in them to outlast the giants.
Everything had gone blurry, but he saw one giant swinging a tree, and then a shape like a broken puppet go flying. Two giants limped after the struggling figure, and Dorian swallowed around a lump and stumbled from his perch and slashed at ankles with his staff blade.
One went down, and he raced toward its throat and slashed and slashed and blood sprayed and it stopped moving.
Then, with one giant still trying to crush Bull with its fists, he pulled himself up, drank his last lyrium, and with the tiny burst of clarity that gave him, he threw pure death at the last giant.
Lavellan and Sera were doing the same.
Bull hit the ground. Pulled himself to his knees. Got shoved back down by a giant hand.
Then someone got the fatal shot in—Dorian had no idea who—and the giant fell.
Iron Bull vanished from sight, and Dorian wouldn’t have thought he had any mana left, but without thinking about it he Fade-stepped to the fallen giant.
It was half on top of Bull, and the qunari wasn’t moving. His head was bleeding, hit against a rock he’d fallen on, and one shoulder was visible, but the rest of him was being crushed under the giant’s corpse.
Lavellan and Sera were running up, and Dorian shouted to them, “Quickly! It’s crushing him!” Then he threw himself at the dead giant and began to shove and strain, trying to lift it off.
All three of them threw their strength into lifting the giant, but it barely moved. “Argh!” Lavellan ferociously kicked the thing before grabbing it and trying again. “Too bad,” she grit out between clenched teeth, “we didn’t bring a qunari for this.”
“Not…funny!” Sera snapped.
Dorian was aware, with a part of his mind that seemed to be watching this from a distance, that it all probably was a little funny—or would be, once Bull was safe and well and back in the tavern with his Chargers, singing and telling stories. “Damn you,” Dorian panted, trying to lift with his legs and getting nowhere because they were all too slippery with blood to get a good grip. “You big ugly brute, I am not letting you die like this!” After all the times the Iron Bull had saved his life, taken blows meant for him and laughed about it later with a quip and a one-eyed wink… “You’re going to live so I can tell you exactly what I think of you, you miserable, uncouth, lumbering, barbaric, foul-smelling, muscle-bound bonehead!”
Lavellan let go and bent double, gasping. Her nose was bright red. “It’s not working!” she cried, her voice trembling.
Through the haze of panic, mana exhaustion, and Sera’s cursing, Dorian assessed the situation. “Do you have any more lyrium.”
Sniffling, Lavellan blinked. “I don’t know, I…maybe…” She shuffled in her belt and finally pulled one free. “Last one.” She held it out. Dorian took it.
“Your mana level?” She shook her head, red hair sticking to the sweat and blood on her face. “All right,” Dorian decided, “we split it.” They did, sharing the tiny dose of lyrium. Dorian hoped it would be enough. “Now,” he directed, “get on that side. You remember the repulsion glyph I was teaching you? Place it there, next to him, under the giant. I’ll place one down here.”
“I’ll try…” Lavellan sounded close to tears, and very uncertain. She had only just learned the glyph; she had never used it herself yet. But they didn’t have the luxury of self-doubt right now.
Dorian drew his glyph. He wouldn’t have much mana to give it. “All right.” Lavellan’s glyph shimmered into being, thank the Maker. “Now, on the count of three, we each energize our glyph. Sera, stand ready—you’ll have to pull Bull free.”
The elf grabbed what she could of Bull’s harness, even as she snapped, “You daft? I’ll never be able to shift his big qunari arse!”
“Then he’ll die.” Dorian turned back to his glyph. “One…two…three!”
The side of the giant lifted off the ground, levered up by magic. Sera’s feet scrabbled in the dirt as she dragged Bull’s still form. Dorian’s head throbbed with blinding pain, but he held the glyph and reached down with one hand and grabbed Bull’s leg and pulled as best he could to help Sera move him. It was working—Sera was dragging him clear. Just a little further…
Without warning, everything vanished as Dorian blacked out.
Ugh, why can’t Southerners figure out the secret of comfortable mattresses?
Something was jabbing into his back, and he was cold—naturally. Dorian tried to grope for the blanket to wrap himself up in it and found none. He also hurt incredibly the moment he moved, and that brought everything back to him.
“Bull!” His eyes snapped open as he struggled up, flinching as his head nearly cracked in half with pain.
“Easy, shem.” A little hand pushing him back. “Your mana isn’t back yet. …Neither is mine, ugh.”
Dorian blinked through the pain of daylight and managed to locate Iron Bull—on the ground next to him. Lavellan was sitting on a tree root, looking beat. Bull looked bad, but he was breathing.
“Sera saw an old wagon and abandoned campsite nearby. She’s going to see if she can find us any help.”
“He hasn’t come around?”
Lavellan didn’t shake her head—she kept it carefully still. “You were only out a minute. We got him clear of the giant, but he’s still out.”
Dorian painfully scooted closer, rolling onto his side. “He has a head wound; he needs to wake up. He can’t…” Dorian broke off with a grunt of pain and didn’t bother continuing the explanation. “Hey, you lazy brute!” He didn’t shake Bull or move his head, but he slapped his face lightly. “Wake up! Honestly, don’t you know better than to sleep covered in blood like this?” More slapping. “Why must you be such a savage?”
Why, indeed. Dorian swallowed around his suddenly tight throat. Why must you be so blatant and obnoxious and crude and unfailingly reliable and such a steady, patient comrade… Dorian fumbled for his water skin, which was nearly empty. He poured small amounts into his hand and wiped blood away from Bull’s brow. “Making me nanny you like this, honestly,” he grumbled. “But I suppose turnabout is fair play. You’ve nannied me enough times, whether I liked it or not.” There was the time after he met his father in Redcliff, when Bull wouldn’t let him drink alone, and he’d spent the whole evening harassing Dorian with bad jokes and lewd stories and fucking friendship, no matter how intolerable Dorian tried to be.
He blinked. His mana exhaustion must be getting to him—his vision was suddenly even more blurry. “Wake up, damn you! Do you want to have permanent brain damage?” He splashed the remainder of his water straight onto Bull’s face. “There is precious little inside that thick skull of yours to actually damage, but I should think you’d want to keep from becoming any stupider. It would surely be fatal to—”
Suddenly, Bull coughed, then groaned. Dorian felt a rush of weakness overpower him—relief.
“Well, it’s about time,” he grumbled, voice thick and rough. “Have you had a pleasant nap, Princess? If you were hoping to get your beauty rest, I’m sorry to say that your case is hopeless. Nothing could improve that ugly mug of yours.”
Bull chuckled weakly, but it dissolved into a groan. “Waking up to broken ribs and a bitchy ’Vint—that’s why I joined the Inquisition.” Lavellan was crawling close to check on Bull’s condition. “Hey boss, seen any dragons? That’s all I need to make this a perfect day.”
Dorian wasn’t even sure what he said to that—he was nearly apoplectic, or as much as he could be with the sliver of energy he had left. Then somehow, just as he was coming up with some truly inventive insults, Bull smiled at him…their gazes met, and Dorian’s hands were on that rough scarred face again, still trying to brush away dirt and blood, of course…
And then Bull had the horrible audacity to kiss him.
It tasted of blood and it was sweaty and filthy and uncomfortable and somehow perfect—the way their mouths fit together, the way it took away all his fear.
Only when Dorian let go did he realize that Bull hadn’t moved—he really couldn’t—and it had been all Dorian himself leaning down to make that happen, and he was terribly embarrassed.
Then Sera came running up as Lavellan cleared her throat. “This is all I found, but it’s good, yeah?”
She dumped an armload of freshly picked elfroot onto Bull’s chest.
Dorian walked beside the stretcher they carried Bull back to camp on. He himself was much improved by a lyrium potion brought from camp, and he flatly refused all medical attention until Bull was comfortable in the healers’ tent and they had certified him to be in no danger.
The he left Sera to watch over Bull as he cleaned himself up in record time and returned, pack and bedroll in hand, and when the poor ex-Circle mage who was their healer tried to tell him he couldn’t camp out in the medical tent, Dorian unleashed a diatribe upon her that would have backed down another Exalted March.
He slept beside Bull’s cot, and Bull didn’t comment on it. He smiled and asked Dorian if he had anything to drink.
Dorian had half a flask of brandy, which they shared in relative silence.
Bull wasn’t allowed to ride back to Skyhold—too demanding on the core and the barely re-knit ribs. He was ordered by the healers to ride in the supply wagon.
Dorian rode alongside him.
They talked of mundane things—cultists and demons and dragons—and Bull made some comments about Dorian’s riding gear:
“They don’t cover your ass!”
“They’re Antivan! They’re genuine halla leather chaparreras and they protect my trousers.”
“Okay, big guy. You keep wearing those ass-less ‘chaps’ or whatever they are. I’m just enjoying the view.”
Dorian’s responses still sounded vitriolic, but the true heat was gone. Hopefully no one noticed…apart from Bull. Bull certainly noticed.
And Dorian kept him in sight and saw to it that he obeyed the healer’s order and went to bed as soon as they reached Skyhold, never mind all his protests that he was fine.
Dorian did not open his eyes when he woke. Bull’s scent was all around him, the heat of his body close, the distant sounds of the castle waking telling him it was morning. Just to be sure, he reached out with his magic, testing the world around him, but nothing was humming with that pull that meant Fade, so Dorian sighed and rolled toward warmth.
“Hey big guy. You awake?”
“Mmmm. Clearly.” Dorian yawned. “And why are you here?”
A laugh. “Think that’s my question. This is my bed, after all.”
Dorian glanced around, blinking with mild surprise before giving a disinterested dismissal. “I must have grown uncomfortable in that wretched thing you call a chair. Or perhaps I was too cold, thanks to the condition of your roof. You have more than enough room in this bed anyway; don’t complain.”
He could feel Bull’s deep chuckle shake the bed slightly. “Never said I minded waking up to you drooling on my chest.”
Dorian snorted regally and didn’t bother getting riled up. “I certainly did not.” Then he leaned up on one arm and pushed the blanket down a bit, baring Bull’s upper body. He ran his hand lightly over Bull’s torso, humming. “The swelling is gone. That’s a good sign. The bruising has started to fade, too.”
“Like I keep saying, I’m fine. The healers are pretty good at sticking bones back together.”
“Be that as it may,” Dorian pronounced, his hand still sliding gently over the warm, gray skin, “I think I may be allowed my caution. I did narrowly escape the tiresome chore of burying your squashed corpse after a giant sat on you, so really—”
He stopped there as one massive hand slipped around the back of his head and pulled, and Dorian found his lips otherwise engaged for several long moments.
This time, it was soft—irritatingly tender, given the brute involved—but still just as perfect.
When Bull pulled back and looked up at him, smiling, Dorian caught his breath. “Sweet guy,” Bull rumbled, thumb rubbing his cheekbone.
Dorian swallowed, his voice rather soft as well. “I suppose the game is somewhat up at this point,” he admitted wryly.
“Game?” Bull blinked innocently.
With a laugh, Dorian asked, “Oh, are you going to let me go back to pretending that I despise everything about you?” He shook his head, smiling. “It’s no use. I fear I haven’t the will any longer. We may have to face the truth.”
A slow grin. “I’m good with that. …What’s the truth?”
Easing closer, Dorian replied, “That you are a very rare friend…and, as you’ve been theorizing for several months, I am indeed quite attracted to you, on…multiple levels.”
“Funny. I was going to say the exact same thing.” Bull winked. “I think you’re great and I think it would be even greater if we fucked.”
Dorian barked a sudden laugh. “Oh yes, that’s the exact same thing.”
Neither of them had quite stopped laughing when their mouths slotted together again—kisses with a little more heat behind them, a little more intention. A bit of tongue, finally.
The hand on his head slipped down over his shoulder, his back. Dorian had removed his outer robes for his bedside vigil and ended up sleeping in his shirt and trousers, which were now mussed, the shirt falling open. When he pulled back from the kiss, it was gratifying, though hardly surprising, to see the Bull’s eyes linger over his smooth, tawny skin, alluring in the soft morning light. Dorian hid his smile, sitting up a little more and tossing his disheveled hair. “So. Have you ever had sex with a mage?”
Bull was still looking, but he gave Dorian’s question the attention it deserved—and a very frank answer. “No, I haven’t.”
“Truly? Not at all?”
Dorian leaned closer, moving his hand to run it along one massive, muscled arm. “Then I’ll be your first,” he murmured, smirking.
“You don’t have to say it like that.”
Dorian laughed. “All right. Any particular reason you’ve been avoiding mages?”
“Eh.” The Bull shrugged. “It just wouldn’t happen under the Qun. Even coming South, most mages were in Circles, until recently. Haven’t had much opportunity.”
“You aren’t put off by it?” Dorian pressed.
“Don’t know,” the Bull answered. “Been fighting beside mages since my first assignment. Been fighting against them too, but that’s different. It might be closer quarters than I’m used to, but as long as you don’t invite any demons to this, I’m good.”
Dorian snorted. “No, certainly not. Demons spoil all the fun. And I promise, there is quite a bit of fun to be had with magic.” He grinned. “Not today, though, I think. Another time, perhaps. Once you’re back to your usual energetically intolerable self.”
“There’s going to be another time?” Bull beamed.
With a regal wave, Dorian dismissed the point. “I only meant to say that in your feeble condition, I wouldn’t want to risk re-injury with too much…excitement. Thus, if you wish to explore what magic has to offer, you’ll have to finish healing. And,” he added with a smirk, “you’ll have to earn the privilege of a second time.”
Bull grinned, but he wasn’t fooled for a second. They’d been watching each other for months; they both knew this would be good. “Shouldn’t be a problem,” he purred.
“Even with broken ribs?” Dorian hummed. “Confident.” Then, bracing himself, he gently took hold of Bull’s arms. “Here. Sit up a bit.” He arranged the pillows behind Bull and made sure he didn’t use his midsection too much. “Good?”
“I keep telling you—”
“Yes, yes.” Dorian rose up on his knees and threw one leg over Bull’s lap. “Obviously, I’m aware you’ve mostly healed, or we wouldn’t be doing this at all.” He settled his weight and leaned forward, gently pushing their bodies together. “So allow me a few precautions, yes?” He placed a hand on one of Bull’s horns, but didn’t grab tight. The texture was rough under his fingertips, as he’d always imagined it would be—not that he was planning to admit how much he’d imagined this.
Not for a while, anyway.
Bull wrapped one arm around his back; the other hand stroked up Dorian’s thigh. “You got it, big guy,” he murmured, and then they were kissing again—and this time, it was hungry.
Dorian’s hands tightened on Bull’s horns, pulling him in as he deepened the kiss, and Bull’s arm kept their bodies locked close. His hand on Dorian’s leg dragged upward, over his tight trousers, and wrapped around his hip, making a terribly lowbrow move straight for his ass. At the first squeeze, Dorian couldn’t help it—he laughed into the kiss. Barbarian.
Despite the laugh, Dorian didn’t pull back until they were both forced to—gasping for air against each other’s mouths. Dorian rose up on his knees just to look down at Bull’s face. Bull, incorrigibly, kept his trespassing hand exactly where it was.
For one very surreal moment, Dorian found himself in a position that was entirely new to him—looking a man in the eye, said man’s hand on his ass, and trying desperately not to laugh. It wasn’t as if there was anything funny, even—sex usually involved this sort of touching; it was hardly strange.
Perhaps because it was Bull, and Dorian had spent months snapping at him for transgressions much less severe. He had the oddest urge to zap Bull’s hand with lightning, while at the same time he wanted to arch his back and encourage the touch to become much, much naughtier. Either way, he did not examine the moment—he simply stopped restraining himself. He laughed, and he rolled his hips against Bull’s, and Bull answered with that low, rumbling chuckle Dorian liked so well, and then he snuck in and began to kiss and suck along Dorian’s throat.
Dorian’s laugh grew breathless as he released Bull’s horns. His hands made quick work of his own shirt buttons, tugging the hem free wherever it was still tucked in. He shucked the garment, noting that Bull pulled back just enough to watch, his ever-observant eye shining with appreciation as he took in Dorian’s bare upper body.
With a haughty toss of his head—probably somewhat belied by the smile in his eyes—Dorian straightened, displaying himself as he moved his hands to the laces of his trousers. “Thoughts?” he prompted, teasing.
“Mmmm.” Both Bull’s hands smoothed over Dorian’s ass as he watched the trousers fall open, Dorian’s swelling erection pushing through, though still hidden by his smallclothes. “Thinking I’m glad that giant almost crushed me.”
“Emphasis on ‘almost,’ I imagine,” Dorian answered. Bull’s hands slid up, under fabric, and down again, sneaking into his trousers to grope him directly. Dorian shivered.
“Naturally.” Dorian smiled. And then he grabbed Bull’s dick through his pants.
“Unnh!” The deep grunt against his throat came with teeth—Dorian could feel it just before Bull pulled himself back, releasing the pressure a fraction of a moment before it became a bite. Cute, but Dorian was not looking for manners by going to bed with a qunari mercenary. He leaned close, found the point of Bull’s ear, and scraped with his teeth as a warning before biting down. At the same time, he moved his hand down further and cupped the Bull’s balls, rolling them through the fabric.
“Bite me,” he whispered into Bull’s ear. “I want your marks on me, all over my body.” If Bull had been expecting the Tevinter noble to prefer delicate treatment, he didn’t show it. He growled and obeyed as Dorian got his hands inside those awful pants, squeezing hot, hard flesh. “Ahh!” Dorian cried out as Bull bit him at the same moment an exploring finger rubbed down the cleft of his ass, stroking over his rim. “Oil,” he gasped, grinding back on the pressure that wasn’t quite enough. “You have some, yes?”
“In the chest,” Bull nodded toward the foot of the bed. Dorian followed his gaze, sighing a little as Bull’s hands left him. Still, he hopped off the bed without delay, stripping out of his trousers first.
Bull started to remove his pants, but Dorian quickly reminded him, “Don’t hurt your ribs.” Then he reached over to grab the hideous material as Bull smiled and indulged him and gently raised his hips just enough for Dorian to tug the clothing away. Then he turned to the chest, found the oil, and turned back to the bed.
When he turned back around… Well. The Iron Bull lay there naked, fisting his massive cock with a slow, gliding pressure as he watched Dorian. “Maker…” Dorian breathed.
The Bull grinned and released himself, letting his massive erection stand free. “You ever played with something this big before, Dorian?”
He smirked. “Despite our rich imaginations, alti have very few opportunities to enact sexual fantasies with qunari, so I must admit, this is new.”
“So…I’ll be your first,” Bull grinned.
Dorian strolled back toward the bed, uncorking the bottle as he went, his whole body on display. “Oh, very clever.” He straddled Bull’s hips again. “Do shut up. Lummox.” While trying to stifle his smile, Dorian grabbed Bull’s wrist and poured a liberal quantity of oil into his hand, then corked and set aside the bottle. He borrowed a little of Bull’s handful by sliding their palms together, then lined their cocks up and began to coat both of them with slick strokes. Bull returned to sucking kisses over his throat. His hands spanned Dorian’s entire ass, and one pulled slightly to open him as a single, thick finger slowly pressed inside.
“M-Maker, your hands…!” Dorian gasped, his own grip tightening around their cocks.
“Like them?” Bull purred, grinning at him as he twisted that finger and began to slide in and out.
“Oh, they’re huge. Is that only one finger?” He swallowed and rolled his hips back. “No, of course it is. Ridiculous,” he gasped, then looked straight into Bull’s attentive eye. “Hold still.”
Obediently, Bull stopped moving. Dorian kept one hand on their cocks, holding them pressed together, while the other arm wrapped around Bull’s thick neck. With that, he began to roll his hips—down onto Bull’s finger, up hard against his dick. Firm, sensual…not exactly slow. A long moan escaped him. “Another. Give me another.” Bull thankfully didn’t ask if he was sure, just positioned his second finger beside the first and let Dorian push to take it in. “Oh, ohh…utterly ludicrous. Every inch of you, great…mmm, lout.” The second finger slowed him at first, but Dorian was relentless, pushing to fuck himself on those fingers faster and faster, the sting of the stretch making his skin tingle and burn.
“Don’t—unmh—hurt yourself there, big guy. I don’t have anywhere to be this morning. Take your time.”
Fingernails bit into Bull’s neck as Dorian tightened his grip—right under his ear, where the flesh was softest and he had a chance of leaving actual marks. Bull grunted. Dorian kept moving, his response a blend of imperious nonchalance and a growl of desire. “I most certainly will n-not, ah!” He met Bull’s gaze again, with a predatory smile. “I’m going to fuck myself on your fingers—y-you should feel honored—and I’m going to come all over your unfashionably large cock. Th-then…oh…then I’m going to suck you off. Mmmm.” He rolled his hips extra hard. He could feel Bull’s cock throbbing with the words, hear the low, barely audible growl deep in his chest. “Probably ride you after that. You’d better…better stay hard for me.”
“Yeah…” Bull’s voice was so deep, Dorian almost came at the sound of it. “Don’t think…that’ll be…a problem.”
A shiver ran through him, and Dorian angled his hips to make Bull’s fingers rub that spot, just there inside him. His thrusts became shorter, faster and faster, his hand on Bull’s cock rubbing the crown even as he held them close. His other hand slipped a bit, but he shifted his grip to a horn, thrusting, thrusting, panting and arching back and then shaking, crying out, “Ah-ahhh!” Bull’s arm was an anchor around his back as Dorian came, spilling all over them as he’d promised.
“Damn,” the Bull breathed, his eye running all over Dorian, taking in everything at once. “That was nice.”
Dorian swallowed, breathing hard, and laughed—still without quite knowing why. Then, with a wicked grin, he shifted off Bull’s lap, kneeling beside him, grabbed his discarded pants, and used them to wipe his spend off Bull’s body.
“Hey—!” Bull began to protest, but Dorian cut him off with a yank of one horn, pulling Bull into a kiss—one that was soft with post-orgasm haze, but still sizzling a little with the promise of more to come. Whatever objection Bull had to the use of his clothing, it dissolved as he relaxed and answered the kiss eagerly.
Dorian pulled back with a smile, tossing the pants aside, and moved his mouth down Bull’s body, kissing and touching, licking gray, sweaty skin, exploring with his hands what he’d already secretly studied with his eyes for quite some time. As soon as he reached Bull’s cock, he glared upward. If his voice was a little breathless, he could make up for that with his eyes. “Fingers back inside me, if you please.” Bull had pulled them out when Dorian came. He smiled and replaced his hand now, stroking the rim before pressing deeper. “Mmh. Good. I expect the third at your earliest convenience.” With that, Dorian dropped his head to lick Bull’s precome from the flushed crown of his cock.
“Ngh. Yeah…that’s good. Look at you. Knew you’d look so damn pretty like this.”
“Mmmh!” A shiver ran through Dorian’s whole body as the Bull’s third finger breached him. He wasn’t pushing in deep yet, but the burn was a wonderful, hot ache. Dorian continued to lick up and down Bull’s shaft, cleaning his cock and coating him with saliva. When he trusted his voice again, he pulled back just enough to speak, hand continuing to stroke. “You may continue your compliments. Feel free to be specific in your appreciation of me.” With that, he closed his mouth around the head of Bull’s cock and sucked, tongue swirling.
Dorian slid down Bull’s thick shaft until he felt the head pressing into his throat, just far enough that he could feel Dorian swallow. Naturally, Dorian was exceptionally talented, but he hadn’t been lying either—he had never done this with a qunari before, and even the most well-endowed human of his acquaintance didn’t quite compare. Dorian was rather proud of himself for so handily managing a little more than half Bull’s length on the first try. His hands covered the rest, squeezing and massaging as Bull swore and his body shook and he valiantly strove to keep his hips from thrusting upward. It made Dorian’s chest feel warm and tight when Bull managed—barely—to keep that control, even though he was clearly surprised.
“Shit, Dorian,” he groaned when Dorian pulled off again. “You sure you’ve never had a qunari before? Or maybe a hundred qunari?”
He smiled, his lips still pressed to the tip of Bull’s cock, gathering the leaking fluid there, and murmured, “Don’t give me ideas.” Maker, a hundred qunari… Still, even if he had no plans to say so, Dorian rather preferred his present situation—just one qunari. One particular qunari. “Just you, Bull,” he breathed, hot against Bull’s wet cock.
“Damn,” the Bull growled appreciatively. “Never met a human who could…oh, shit!”
Dorian hadn’t waited to hear the end of that thought. He got the gist of it, anyway.
When he came up for air again, Bull was breathing hard. “It’s not a mage thing, is it? You sure you aren’t using magic?”
Chuckling, Dorian shook his head—his hand still stroking, never relenting. “Believe me, Iron Bull, you’ll know when I use magic. No, this is nothing but my incredible personal talent. You may continue to praise me, but a proper appreciation will require that you come down my throat.”
“Won’t take long if you keep that up.”
Dorian muffled another laugh by sinking back down the Bull’s shaft. Sucking and twirling his tongue, he began to move up and down Bull’s cock at a firmer pace—one intended to drive his pleasure higher. He punctuated his rhythm by taking Bull in deep again and again, and moaning—often moaning, especially when Bull’s fingers inside him swirled a certain way or touched his prostate. With one hand he jerked the thick base of Bull’s cock; with the other he rolled and kneaded those massive balls.
He could feel Bull getting close. When he was nearly there, Dorian snuck his hand lower, letting his wrist apply the pressure to his balls as his fingers pressed into his perineum in just the right spot.
With a shout, Bull came—hot bursts of seed across Dorian’s tongue, a strange flavor. Copious spurts, over and over, flooding his mouth—Dorian wasn’t quite prepared for the volume of it. He released Bull’s cock a little too soon, and the last few jets striped over his face.
The Bull relaxed with a sigh. “Maker,” Dorian coughed a little, straightening, “was that a normal amount for you?”
“Mmmmm.” Bull just grinned, reached a hand around the back of his neck, and pulled him close—not to kiss, right away, but to lick the spend from his face. Then he slid their mouths together, kissing Dorian deeply, both of them tasting like Bull’s essence.
“Uncouth barbarian,” Dorian muttered when Bull pulled back. His complaint sounded a little weak, however, because he was once again trying to stifle a smile as he said it.
“Yep!” That beautiful, lowbrow grin again. “And yes to your question, too. Qunari aren’t big down there for nothing.”
“Hmnf.” Dorian sniffed, arching an eyebrow. “Well. Hurry up and get hard again, would you? I’d like your cock inside me sometime today.”
“I can do that,” Bull smiled. “Let me just make sure you’re ready, get a little more oil in you.” He retrieved the bottle, and Dorian decided to be most helpful and accommodating. He straddled Bull again, this time with his back toward Bull, and then stretched forward to recline on his legs, presenting the very best access for what Bull intended to do. The rumble of appreciation resonated through Dorian’s body as Bull began to slip freshly coated fingers into him.
The Bull’s fingers were so…thick. Dorian sighed and stretched forward. It was very comfortable, in spite of Bull’s hard knees and shins. Dorian crossed his arms and reflected that broader knees were not as sharp—an elf’s knees against his stomach would be intolerable. This—this was quite nice, especially with Bull’s fingers stroking delightfully inside him. Dorian trailed fingertips along the ridges of scar tissue crisscrossing Bull’s legs and almost wished they could just remain like this, possibly for hours, while Bull easily fingered him without any real intent of stretching. Just luxuriating in the heat of his body while Bull idly played with his hole… What a lovely day that would be.
Dorian’s traveling fingers found their way along a scar to the Bull’s ankle—the one he wore a brace on. Idly, gently, Dorian began to caress the ankle and foot, feeling for the knobs of misplaced tissue and bone under the surface. He didn’t want to press on anything that hurt, though, so he soon moved his touch to the bottom of Bull’s foot, rubbing the wide arch where the calluses were thinnest.
Bull didn’t make a sound, but Dorian felt his thighs tremble—it was rather hard to miss, actually, with his dick lying right on them. He shifted to twist and glance back over his shoulder, arching an eyebrow and smirking. Bull chuckled. “Yeah, I like that. It’s nice.”
Without a word, Dorian reached back. He could feel a little pool of oil that had collected at the small of his back, running down his crack from where Bull was still spreading him open. He gathered the oil with one hand and returned to Bull’s feet, stroking with more intention, working the oil into the skin in a skillful massage.
“Mmh. Damn, you’re sweet.”
Dorian didn’t turn around this time—he didn’t have to suppress his smile if Bull couldn’t see it, after all. He beamed a little at Bull’s feet. “Perhaps a little magic today, after all?”
Grinning like a pleased fool, Dorian brought heat into his hands and held it—the glow of embers, the steam of hot tea. He spread the tingling warmth with the oil over both Bull’s feet and ankles. Then he wrapped both hands around the bad ankle and just concentrated on easing the heat as deep as it would go, without making it too hot. His fingers kneaded lightly; Bull’s claw-tipped toes curled.
All this gave Dorian something to focus on besides the thick fingers inside him, stroking the rim and then reaching deep—not to mention his reawakened cock beginning to leak onto Bull’s thighs. Of course, distractions only worked so well, and when Bull began to stroke his prostate more frequently, Dorian began to lose his ability to focus on conjuring heat.
He slowly pushed himself up, but rather than let himself appear too eager, he used his best aristocratic tone to demand, “What happened to your appreciation of me? I haven’t heard nearly enough compliments yet. If you think I’m going to ride your cock without having been sufficiently admired, you are quite mistaken.”
“Mmh. You want admiration, you got it, Dorian.” Bull’s fingers stroked slowly inside him. He was definitely ready. “You’re one hot ’Vint. Don’t think I haven’t been paying attention these past months. All that smooth, dark skin…makes me want to just run my hands over your naked body for hours. One of the best asses I’ve ever seen…I can feel how hot and tight you are, but soft inside, too. Can’t wait to feel it with my dick—it’s going to be so good.” Dorian was breathing harder, shifting around to face Bull again as that deep voice filled his thoughts. “And that mouth…damn. Never had a human who could suck me off like that, like it was easy. You’re so damn talented, though, you make everything look easy. Watching you fight…mmm, can’t take my eyes off you sometimes. It’s like watching a legend come alive in front of me. So much power inside you it’s terrifying. Glorious. And having sex with such a dangerous man…” A long, low growl. “You have no idea how much it turns me on.”
Controlling himself, he stilled the tremors in his hands and reached back. Found Bull’s cock and stroked, feeling how hard it was again. “I gather, from the evidence,” he laughed breathily. “Now,” he leaned close to breathe the words into Bull’s ear, “I rather think I’d like to ride your cock.”
The Bull chuckled, grinned, and wrapped his arms around Dorian’s body. “I’m not going to stop you.” Smiling, Dorian grasped Bull’s cock and stroked, smearing oil over the hard, smooth shaft with his slippery hand. Then he leaned forward, resting his forehead on Bull’s shoulder as he guided the head of Bull’s erection into himself.
The ache as he stretched to accept Bull was…incredible. Dorian gasped, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing closer, hiding his face against that strong shoulder as he sank down slowly, further and further. He knew he was trembling—of course he was. He’d never taken a man quite this large, and his body was straining to accept Bull. He clung to mountains of muscle, skin slipping, nails clawing, and breathed into it.
Gentle, massive hands stopped him before he reached the end. “Easy, big guy. Take a few deep breaths.”
Dorian, however, only turned his head and sank his teeth into the corded muscle at the side of Bull’s neck. He felt Bull’s hands tighten on his hips, blunt claws against his lower back, and Dorian pushed. Down.
The Bull was still strong enough to stop him, if he tried. He didn’t. Dorian leaned away, straightening up and arching his back and finally just gliding down the rest of Bull’s shaft. He felt his weight settle on Bull’s hips, the massive qunari cock fully seated inside him, and he smirked triumphantly at Bull—and a little shakily. Truthfully, even his overwhelming enthusiasm couldn’t make this easy. But it was good.
“Fuck.” Bull swallowed. “You okay, Dorian?”
“Wonderful,” he breathed, reaching for Bull’s horns, for a good anchor to stabilize himself with. “Full. You?”
“Pretty impressed, if you want to know the truth,” Bull answered, the tightness in his voice belying the casual words. “Never had a human man who could take me like you just did. A couple women, maybe. You sure you’re not using some weird ’Vint magic?”
Again, Dorian laughed, light and free, despite the maddening throbbing in his ass. He shifted his weight closer, hands stroking horns as he felt Bull’s cock move inside him. “Just my own exceptional enjoyment of being fucked.” Then he hummed, thoughtfully. “You may have Tevinter to thank for some of that, in a way. Of course, most people like sex, but there’s nothing quite like a lifetime of scarcity for making one unusually enthusiastic.”
“Hmf. Well, you can have anything you want from me, ’Vint. Hope that doesn’t kill the enthusiasm.”
Dorian grinned, rising up on his knees. “It doesn’t.”
Then, with a firm grip on rough horns and Bull’s hands on his hips, Dorian bore down hard, tightened his grip and pulled up, and then did it again. Again and again. Bull was watching the way Dorian moved, almost hypnotized by his body. As Dorian moved faster, harder, he felt Bull’s hands gripping tighter, the prick of dull claws against his skin. Perfect.
“Doing good?” The words were little more than a grunt.
“Oh yes,” he gasped. “Good.” Dorian swallowed. “Your ribs?”
“Are you certain?” Dorian made himself focus so he could search Bull’s eye.
“Not even sore, big guy. I don’t feel a thing.” Then he grinned. “My dick, on the other hand…ungh!”
Dorian smirked, relaxing his muscles again and relenting the squeezing grip he’d given Bull. “Yes, I know.” He pulled on Bull’s horns, bringing him closer as Dorian redoubled his efforts, grinding hard as he fucked himself on Bull’s burning-hot dick. Sweat made everything slick between them, but that was another advantage of the Bull’s horns—they were rough and remained easy to keep a grip on, even with sweaty palms. They were pressed together, skin to hot, wonderful skin, and Dorian moaned and pressed tighter, rubbing his cock against the Bull’s stomach. The rounded padding of his tummy just made it easier, closer—and it felt delightful. “Remind me why I thought this wasn’t a good idea?” he gasped.
“Got me, big guy,” the Bull rumbled, his throat catching on the words. “I always figured it would be great. You were the onennnngh!”
Sounds of wet skin slapping overtook speech as Dorian caught Bull’s open mouth with tongue and teeth, almost too messy to be called kissing. “Yes, yes,” he whispered, unable to summon his voice. Their heavy breaths mingled between them. “I’ll admit…you were…quite right…on this occasion. Ahh!” The sound Dorian made was thin and desperate as he shifted his angle and Bull’s cock nailed his prostate. Then, of course, he couldn’t stop—couldn’t shift away, couldn’t slow down, just kept chasing the rising pleasure frantically. “Oh, I’m going to come, Bull, going to come all over you. Oh…oh! Bull I’m—ahhh!”
Eyes closed, back arched, skin on fire, world going white like lightening, like the ravages of a summer storm breaking over the heat of Qarinus…
The Fade crackled across his skin briefly as Dorian came, ejaculating over the front of Bull’s body. His own body trembled, the pleasure sharp and sweet. “Bull,” he gasped, and “Bull!” he almost sobbed, and his answer was his own name, murmured in reverent tones.
His body went limp, but Bull’s hands were tighter than ever on his hips, buttocks, lower back—Maker, such massive hands. Hot breath in his hair, growling his name now, “Dorian, fuck, Dorian.” Dorian could feel the faintest tremor in Bull’s shoulders, in his leg—holding back. Waiting for Dorian to come back enough for him to check in. Dorian laughed weakly—How very like him. Then he blinked and gathered himself—one last burst of effort, for this exceptionally deserving man.
Driving his hips up and down, fast and hard, Dorian panted, “I do hope you’re close to coming.” Arms around Bull’s neck, he met that lust-stunned gaze. “I need you to fill me with it, Bull.”
“Yeah. Fuck, Dorian…” Bull grunted, then his hands shifted. His grip tightened, massive arms flexing to help Dorian move. His legs were nearly spent, so it was good to have the help, and it almost felt as though Dorian was a little toy Bull was easily bouncing in his lap, barely more effort than masturbating.
Part of Dorian would remember to feel a little insulted later…when he wasn’t gasping with pleasure at the evidence of Bull’s immense strength.
For a moment, it felt like it would never end. Dorian was over-sensitive, writhing, unable to stifle his broken moans as Bull fucked him ruthlessly—and as Dorian did everything in his power to drive his hips down every time Bull filled him, taking his cock to the very root over and over. Then Bull growled suddenly and came, emptying himself deep inside Dorian. The pulses of hot come inside him made Dorian choke out a cry, and he bit the back of his hand to keep from saying anything foolish. He hung on and just felt it, and when it was finally over he didn’t want to let go.
Dorian relaxed forward onto Bull’s chest and let his cock slide gently out. Bull cradled him close, one massive hand cupping almost his entire ass, gently caressing. There were faint rumbles coming from somewhere deep in Bull’s chest, and even exhausted as he was, Dorian grinned wide enough to make his cheeks ache. That was purring—or so he would most certainly insist from now on.
Both of them were still gasping for air—warm, heavy air thick with the scent of sex—as Dorian drifted, held in Bull’s arms. He felt the petting touches over his sweaty skin—only with one hand, though. The other lingered on his ass, and Dorian wasn’t sure why—some instinct, perhaps. He sighed and murmured an answer to the unasked question he somehow just knew was there.
It came out a little slurred, but Bull must have heard him all right, because a moment later the hand on Dorian’s ass shifted, fingers sliding toward his hole, pausing…
“Mmmmm.” A pleased hum was all Dorian could manage, but it was enough. Bull slid two fingers into him, surely encountering an utter mess as the soft flesh parted…
The rumbling became a little louder, steadier—quite obviously a contented purr now. His fingers stroked ever so slowly inside Dorian.
“Savage,” he whispered, smiling lips brushing Bull’s collarbone. “So filthy.”
“You like it.” Just as clearly spoken through a smile.
Maker help me, I do. He didn’t say that, though. He felt letting Bull have the last word was preferable to admitting a thing like that so soon. Instead, he settled more comfortably against Bull’s bulk.
“So…” Dorian felt Bull’s breath against his sweat-damp hair, “what’s the verdict? Going to teach me all about your evil sex magic?”
Dorian laughed and leaned back, tossing his head and grinning at Bull. “I suppose I might as well. After all,” he trailed his hands down over Bull’s massive chest, “you’re really almost tolerable when you’re naked.”
“You say the sweetest things.” And then Bull kissed him.
Although it was possible—perhaps—that Dorian did most of the leaning in for it.