(no subject)

[footsies]

[ He decidedly does not comment on Varric's dumbass little grin, the insinuation of have fun, but not too much fun as he hands the little container over. There are all sorts of jokes he clearly wants to make but Dorian casts him a baleful look and says If it's all the same to you, I'll thank you to keep whatever witty comments you have to yourself. Varric does, but it's only just barely, evident in the tilt of his mouth.

Honestly.

He holds onto it at first - they don't have much time directly in the aftermath of Adamant; his skin still crawls when he thinks about it, when he smells the harsh tang of ozone, or sees the green flicker of the open rifts. There's this sick little twist in his gut that he can't quite get rid of every time and he feels only marginally better when he sees it reflected in the Inquisitor's face. It's not just him.

Eventually, though, they make their way back to Skyhold, a little battered, a little bruised, and if he sees the Inquisitor take a left instead of a right, heading for Solas' section of the keep, well, he doesn't say a thing.

He makes a pit stop at his own room, and washes off with what's likely the coldest water this side of the keep, but doesn't want to wait for a bath to heat. Instead, he makes himself presentable, washes the blood and gore out of what he can, and dresses in something less armor and buckles. The package secure in one hand, he heads for Bull's room, unsurprised it's unlocked. ]

Honestly, you savage.

Comments

[watchword]

[ it wasn't that he wasn't used to fear-- he was. he welcomed it, he took it by the horns, so to speak and conquered everything that came to him. but that-- that was some next level shit. he could prepare for a lot, steel himself against it, the idea of it, but that was doing something to him he couldn't shake off, settling deep into his bones like an old, unwelcome friend. typically, he'd round up a charger and have them beat the fear out of him-- not a bad idea, actually, now that he thinks about it. this was a brave new fucking world, but not everything had to change.

he hears dorian come before he enters the door, the familiar way he walks-- assertive and assured, each foot falling ahead of the other with purpose. it's strange, how comforting it is to know he's there, how perilous it seemed otherwise. like if they didn't make it out of the fade, if that had been it and he'd been swallowed up by that fear demon son of a bitch and that was it.

really makes a guy realize his priorities. a battle of instinct versus need wasn't something he was totally interested in but considering the total fucking upheaval of his life thus far, it was about time. there was no going back. there was no undoing. and here, this is what mattered. these people mattered to him.

he looks up as the door opens and feels it melt away as much as it can. what matters is right now, not the what ifs. what matters is that he's here and they continue, that they survived something no one should and they emerged unscathed. the corner of his mouth tugs into a lazy smirk and he reaches out, an invitation. he wasn't as considerate, blood caked into his skin, his pants, the smell of that place still lingering around like bad perfume. he regrets not making himself move before, not cleaning up. ]

I thought you were going to shit yourself in there.

[footsies]

[ For all that he mocks him for being a savage, funnily enough, Dorian doesn't actually think that of him. Out of the lot of them, Bull is arguably the most considerate one, which is - well. It's something that's for sure. But it's true; for all the big muscles and stupid jokes, he's the one that Dorian catches most often making sure the others are alright. Sure, Viv has a sort of maternal warmth about her, but she's also two steps from trying to toss Cole out the door at any given moment. Dorian might pay to see Cassandra try to be maternal, and lord knew that Solas wasn't equipped for it.

The whole group of them ought to not work. It ought to be a hot mess that he left behind, but he finds himself here, in the room that smells harshly of copper and sweat, rolling his eyes. ]

Shall we take you out back and hose you down, then?

[ Don't mind him, breezing by that insinuation, thank you.

Dorian kicks the door closed with a nudge of his foot and brushes right past him to set the two packages on the table, giving him a once over with a wrinkled nose. ]

Or I can push you in the lake. It's brisk, hm? Refreshing. I'm certain it'll be fun.

[ You know, for one of them. ]

[watchword]

[ the laugh comes easy and eyes him as he brushes past. fussy bitch. not that he'd have it any other way because it's true, many fall easy for him. they let him dictate what happened, let him decide, let him control and there wasn't much room for surprise. well fuck, you could argue he didn't leave room for surprise himself, the way he watched people, boiled them down to their basic elements and in some ways dorian is predictable, sure. he can practically hear his disgusted sighs halfway across skyhold when he makes lewd jokes. but-- he's different. he's quirky. he makes him laugh, makes him think, challenges him. he makes his stomach twist in a strange, interesting ways that he figured would be over by the time they actually fucked, but here they are, several of handfuls of encounters later and he's still ready, still so intrigued.

to please him, to listen to his funny little stories, to know his time was well spent. ]

Yeah, yeah. I get it. I smell.

[ he eyes the packages he set and quirks a brow, pushes himself up and draws away, reaching just to lightly touch his waist but not even a glance as he unbuckles his shoulder armor and lets it drop, stepping out of his pants as they fall unceremoniously after. mildly, he calls as he disappears, the sound of water rushing following, ]

Are you coming or what?

[footsies]

Terrible.

[ Just in case Bull didn't realize, Dorian's kind enough to point it out. He eyes the other man's room idly a moment, half wondering if he even had some way to make the other thing Varric had given him, but he'll worry about that later.

It's no surprise this is where this is leading. With any luck, Bull's baths heat up faster than Dorian's do. It probably has to do with the location; so high up is harder to heat than the alternatives. With a heavy sigh like he's the most put-upon man in the world, Dorian starts to strip out of his own clothes, folding them neatly on Bull's ridiculous sized bed. He keeps his smallclothes on for the time being - it's cold but makes his way into the bathroom so he can lean against the wall, watching Bull shamelessly. ]

I don't know, am I?

[ Look, he can make stupid jokes too. ]

[watchword]

Act coy all you want, I know how it sounds when you beg.

[ he says flatly, reaching to duck his hand under the running water. it's cold, but he doesn't mind-- dorian will, though so he waits, plugging it once the water ran hot, steam rising. he shifts and slides into the tub with a pleased noise (a larger tub, to fit him he said when they arrived and left out the "with others" part), reaches to grab a little vial of something that bubbles up when it hits the running water.

he's really not about all this fancy crap, but you know. you make sacrifices when you want to fool around with someone. a very pampered someone.

(maybe he likes it just a little)

he sinks in and reaches again, like before. ]

Join me, Kadan.

[footsies]

[ He rolls his eyes at that, sliding his smalls off to set them by the towel. They're far past the point of being worried about being nude around each other; camping in the middle of nowhere plus having relations killed that concern a while ago. At least Bull knows to make sure the water's hot.

Dorian eases closer, giving the tub an appraising little look, lips tilted in a half-smile. ]

Someone's raided our favorite Seeker's stash, I see.

[ He climbs into the tub almost daintily after testing the water, not wanting to slip by tripping over one of Bull's ridiculously large legs. There's no stopping the sigh that's dragged out of him as he slides in, easing up against miles of warm skin and muscle. ]

Aren't you curious about what I brought with me? A 'vint, bringing unknown packages into your room? Scandalous.

[watchword]

She shouldn't have told me about it.

[ it's true. he hadn't pulled it off the shelf himself, but he had been curious (as he endlessly is when it comes to cassandra) and hey, it worked out for him. learn a little, live a little. it's funny, the way he's so careful, moving into the steaming, bubbling mess and it just feels right when dorian closes all the space between them. he doesn't resist anymore, showing dorian how he feels. there's no reason to hide it anyway. he has committed himself in some way to him now, bound himself to dorian and shows this by tilting to press a kiss to the back of his neck, his shoulder, a hand dropping to lay his palm flat against his stomach. ]

Won't be the last time that happens. Just usually ends messy. [ but yes. very curious. he smiles against his skin, continues mildly, ] You'll show me when you're ready.

[footsies]

Or the stash of smut under her bed. Have you seen that?

[ Dorian shifts in the tub, careful not to displace the water, and fits himself back and up against Bull's ridiculously broad chest. He can't reach much like this, but it feels good for the moment, especially when he feels Bull's mouth dip down, kissing over his neck, his shoulder. The hand on his stomach is even better, almost promising. ]

Yes, well, we'll endeavor to keep it from the blood and gore kind of mess and keep it to the fun kind, shall we?

[ And hell, Bull, what do you think is in them?

Dorian casts him a dubious little look, shifting in Bull's arms so he can roll to his knees and stretch, grabbing one of the washing cloths. Already, the heat from the bath's put him in an even better mood, so he tsks lightly and motions with a hand. ]

Come on, lean in, you're filthy. Didn't those Tamassrans teach you how to bathe properly? [ He scrubs at a smear of blood on Bull's shoulder, rolling his eyes. ] And trust me, you're putting far more weight in what's in those packages than you ought to. It's nothing so exciting that I need to be ready for it. When we get out you can open them.

[watchword]

I've seen more than that.

[ he laughs, which-- okay, yeah. it was early on, he wanted to make sure he was ten steps ahead of everything, wanted things to report if he needed to and sure, he'd seen some things. things cassandra would have him publicly executed for, but the ben-hassrath weren't particularly interested in that so, lucky for all of them. ]

What, blood and gore isn't fun to you?

[ he lets him move and when dorian motions, he doesnt hesitate to lean forward, to sit pretty as dorian washes the fade off him. funny, how deeply intimate this felt to him and how dorian likely didn't realize that. it was one thing to share war and another to shed it off, to allow someone this and not just a distracting fuck. he resists the urge to touch him in return, allowing dorian to talk, as he does, just giving a low, amused noise in response. ]

You got me presents? Now, that's new for a 'vint.

[footsies]

[ Oh, have you. Dorian quirks an eyebrow but doesn't dig in any further, lips twitching. ]

Not currently. Ask me again after we're clean.

[ His hand moves carefully, sweeping dirt and grime and blood off of him, until Bull is clean from his horns to his fingers. Anything below the water is left alone for the time being, and the washcloth is rung out and hung over the side.

Once that's done, he doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands. This sort of thing isn't exactly new to him; he's been intimate, obviously, but the context, the situation... it's all different. ]

Of a sort. Mostly to make you cease your complaining, but let it never be said I am not a generous man.

[watchword]

[ he can see something there-- something holding dorian back, not enough to be strange or maybe unusual but it's there. it's still that i got to know you but now i'm actually getting to know you phase, which is honestly pretty-- completely new for him. it seemed pretty standard, the rites and rituals that bound two together in the qun, almost military in the way it was brought out but he didnt realize it felt like this. whatever it was. if this was even that, anyway. and he knows enough to know it's not entirely about that, either. they had just endured something, bore the weight of the fade together, with their inquisitor. that doesn't just go away.

he reaches to brush his thumb over dorian's cheek, hoping to ease anything that might not feel right. to keep them connected. skin to skin, heart to heart or something like that. that's what his tama had told him at least, her hand on his chest. we are connected, you and i. ]

Two whole presents? I'll strike down anyone who even tries.

[footsies]

[ It's always a shock, when Bull reaches out - huge hands, huge everything, and touches him like that, soft and sweet and like nothing he'd ever been told about the Qunari. It's jarring in some aspects, that Bull is like this; that he's not the vicious monster that some would have people believe. While he knows believing everything you are told is a foolish enough thing, some part of him couldn't help but regurgitate things from his home, until realizing they weren't true in the slightest.

What his father would think of him now, though - making time with a Qunari. He's not sure if it's better or worse if he were a part of the Qun or not. ]

I'm not sure if that's ridiculously romantic and you ought to fetch rose petals for the bath, or if it's painfully caveman, and I ought to expect you to throw me over your shoulder and pound your chest to assert your dominance. Hm.

[ Dorian scoots closer while he speaks, sliding up so his legs are spread, resting over top of Bull's thighs, straddling him with only the slightest protest from his legs at being stretched so far. ]

[watchword]

[ the corner of his mouth twitches upward and he cant help the low, rolling laugh at that. he had a way of reducing something down to it's most unattractive and bull couldn't get enough of it sometimes. it was just very-- honest. mostly wrong and steeped in strange and funny superstition and stereotype but ultimately honest. better than those wringing their hands while spouting desperate idealism at least. ]

No one does over the shoulder anymore. Bridal-style, that's what we do. Gets a little tiring to be kicked in the gut over and over.

[ he lifts his legs just slightly to draw dorian forward, closer, hands dipping beneath the water to cup his hips, fingers sliding around to the small of his back, ]

I can think of better ways to dominate you, anyway.

[ one hand draws up, just the tips of his fingers ghosting up dorian's spine, ]

Ways you would like. Romantic, even.

[footsies]

[ By the time it's all said and done, his body is one large ache in a way that has nothing to do with the battle earlier and everything to do with multiple rounds of exhausting, satisfying sex. They rinse off with clean water, and Dorian pats himself on the back for reheating the piping because rinsing with cold would be fucking miserable.

That finished, he dries off and winds the towel around his waist, lounging back against one of the walls to watch Bull climb out of the tub, his lips curling into a smug, cat that got the cream little smile. He'll need to fix his hair, of course, but for the moment he just sweeps it back out of his eyes, watching the play of muscles under Bull's skin, the shiny white scars from injuries he'd sustained. It probably shouldn't be attractive, but it is and while he can't go again, he really, really wishes he could. ]

I really ought to make you make good on your carrying threat, after all of that.

[watchword]

[ bull wades around the bathroom naked as the day he emerged and doesn't seem to give two shits about it. he's tired and comfortable, relaxed in only the way being absolutely spent can get you and he look he gives dorian when he says that is wry and guarded. he shouldn't have said that. ]

What, I don't get to see you hobble back to bed?

[ the distance between them closes and he doesn't ask before sweeping him up, as if it were nothing. it's careful too, he doesn't just bust back into the room and drop him, no. he minds his head as they move back into the room, he lays him out and even ducks the spare pillow under him as he knows he likes. pampered shit. when he disappears again, it's only to empty the tub, which makes less than flattering gurgling noises and to eye the state of his newer bruises and cuts in a jagged half-mirror which was broken when he got it, thanks. he liked it that way.

everything was moving along nicely. there was no longer the smell of smoke and something odd on him, the lingering notion that it stuck with him in some way, traded a piece of him for that. well. mostly, at least. he carefully unwinds the strap of his eyepatch and sets it aside, palming over the soreness of where his eye was. any time they rattle his head enough, it happens. phantom pain, he figures. wasn't like there was anything left to ache anyway. he returns and knowing it's annoying, knocks into dorian as he moves over him to stretch out on the length of bed beside him, looking just as smug and pleased with himself.

coyly, he palms his cheek and drags his fingertips over dorian's exposed knee, ]

I like you like this. Undone. Ravished.

[footsies]

[ Ah. Well, in retrospect, not the brightest idea. Dorian hesitates a moment as Bull eyes him, and- hell. Dorian makes a sharp noise and pulls at one of his horns, huffing. ]

Evidently not, you great brute.

[ And then Bull goes and does that thing - that horridly considerate, infuriating thing where he puts the pillows there and lies him back all gentle-like, always surprising for a man of his bulk. Dorian fusses a few moments, shifting back into the pillows and blankets, stretching out once he's fixed his hair as best as he can for the moment.

Bull takes care of the tub and his eyepatch, while Dorian tracks his movements around the room, dragging the furs up to wind around him but not enough to cover anything fun, yet. He likes being looked at; always has liked being looked at, but likes it especially when it's Bull, for reasons he cares not to dissect. ]

You're far too smug for the noises you made while I was on top of you, you know.

[ Dorian sniffs, then stretches out just because he knows how it looks, his lips curling into a pleased little smile to match Bull's. ]

Don't settle in yet, you've got to fetch your packages.

[watchword]

[ he shrugs, not ashamed in the slightest about it. he likes being vocal, when it calls for it and maybe especially for dorian, the way he works for it. what he likes more is that it never ends with sex, the way he primps himself all over the place; like now, how he's so carefully crafted the way the furs sit on him and knows exactly how fucking good he looks laid out like that.

honestly, bull could go about three more times before he was done if dorian wasn't careful.

the allure of whatever dorian's brought with him is enough to drag him away from it, to pique his interest enough that he leans up a little, peering beyond dorian at the innocuous little things there. likely something far too expensive and fancy, but-- it's nice. not many people get him gifts and it wasn't something he'd forget soon. he gestures. hand 'em over. ]

You going to tell me what I did to get these? [ a truly smug look, ] Are they for the other night? I told you you'd like me kissing your ass.

[footsies]

Please, your reward for the other night was had just a few moments ago.

[ Dorian rolls his eyes and since Bull isn't going to fetch them, rolls to grab them himself. The first, a neatly wrapped little package, he chucks right at his chest, while the other he holds onto. ]

That is from our charming dwarf, some coin given by myself, obtained through who knows what means. I'm simply running errands for him now, apparently. [ He sniffs, as though it's some sort of slight, though it's clearly not. ] The prices you normally pay for that are abhorrent, I hope you know.

[ One long leg stretches out, and he nudges at Bull lazily, stroking his foot up against one of his ridiculous thighs. ] Don't throw the paper on the ground, either, no matter how funny you think my reaction might be.

[watchword]

[ the one that hit him is gathered up quickly and he rolls half onto his back to use both hands, glancing over to him with a sidelong, almost suspicious look, responding flatly, ]

That's not worrying or anything.

[ but he does as he's told (it's mostly because he's all about what that foot is doing) and discards it on the bed itself quickly when he realizes what it is. he doesn't mean to sound so excited, honestly. ]

No way. You got some?

[ verric had given him some shit lately about needing time to get the right people in the right places, yada yada yada. little prick. both of them, really. that means dorian either overheard or has been paying more attention than bull figured he would be.

his smile subdues into something more private and he turns the little package of cocoa over in his hands. the exact one, too. damn. ]

Thanks, big guy.

[footsies]

Worried about a 'vint stuffing a trap into a poorly disguised present? Please, it's like you think I lack all taste.

[ Still, when he opens it, he can't stop the pleased little smile. At least he likes it; not that there was any sort of question, at least. How could he not, given he was the one who asked for it in the first place?

At least he knows what to get later on down the road - which, wow, he's not thinking about that because thinking about that is strange and it means dwelling on a whole other line of thoughts that he's not prepared to address yet. ]

As I said, it was only a few extra coins; Varric did the rest. Now this, feel free to thank me for, with your mouth if you like. [ his lips spread in a wicked little grin, that foot tapping idly at Bull's thigh. He can make terrible jokes too. ] Without using your words, I mean. Though I think I'll make you guess what's in it, first.

[ Dorian rolls onto his side and holds the little package up above Bull, considering it like he's not sure what it is. ]

What sort of terrible things could a 'vint package into so small a package, hm?

[watchword]

[ his brow raises and he doesn't relinquish the cocoa quite yet, no, holds onto it while he eyeballs the next thing. little thing, would fit in his palm if he held it-- not that that means much when you've got hands like bulls. he drops a hand to blindly curve over dorian's foot to still it, fingers pressing over the bottom of his foot lightly, teasing. ]

Poison. An explosive. A long angry letter.

[ a ring, if dorian was feeling particularly cruel. he glances to him and curls his fingers over his ankle, gives his leg a little tug, ]

Open it.

[footsies]

[ Oh, that's nice. Dorian tilts his foot into it, an eyebrow raised. Is he going to make his hand useful, here? ]

While my paper folding skills are nothing to scoff at, I would have to fold the angry letter quite carefully to get it to fit, so that rules that out.

[ Dorian sits, rather than open it himself, and hands it over to him. ]

It's your gift, you open it. Trying to get me to do all the hard work, honestly.

[watchword]

[ his fingers skirt up his calf, removed only when he shifts to sit and iron bull resists the urge to follow in favor of accepting the package. he shakes it a little-- no rattle and pulls at the paper, pulling the little cannister out. it's not marked in a way he recognizes and he turns the thing over in his hands.

another sex aid, maybe? dorian's collection rivaled his own and maybe there was something new for them to enjoy. he unscrews the top and the paste within is nondescript, a little thick for lubricant but has a familiar smell. reminds him of something when he was younger, but he can't quite reach back and understand it. ]

What is it?

[footsies]

Sweet Maker, how did you survive this long without someone having hold your hands at all times, hm?

[ He doesn't dare sweep some onto his fingers and start applying it - he has no idea how that would even be taken, if it's rude, if it matters. Instead, he lifts both hands, and trails them along where horn meets flesh, giving him a little look. ]

You were bemoaning the lack of proper horn -- well, whatever it is. Oil, ointment. For the itching.

Not terribly romantic, mind, but.

[watchword]

[ the space between his horns has grown almost as hard as the horn itself, weathered by fighting and training. and a lot of headbutting. a lot. it's been a while since he could, since he's been able to get his hands on the good stuff and this is-- unfamiliar. similar enough. probably the fancy shit he bartered for and thought he was getting but definitely wasn't. way better than the ground up leaves shit that stitches managed to find last time they were in orlais.

if he were able to make the connection, reeducation and it simply being a lifetime away aside, he'd know that this was closest to what his tama used to sooth his growing head, to help shape the horns he has today, to ease their ache and the exact itch he still hates. ]

Oh.

[ cocoa and horn ointment. it's-- something. romance isn't really the word but he appreciates it, it's. it's just something. he's already breaking it down, quietly going through the reasoning, the intention but he pushes it aside simply to have this moment. it may not mean much in the long run but after a tough fucking week, it's nice to have it. mildly, ]

What if I lay here and eat this and you put this on me? Now that would be romantic.