So, you decided to offer a clean break. Before it gets too involved.
[ And bear the burden of that with all his usual grace and private melancholy, without question. He's gotten used to wearing his misery like a fine dressing gown, nursing his wine and perfecting the image.
It's a little irritating, to be honest. Especially when he can think of so many better looks for him. ]
[ It's not the same thing. Putting flesh and blood and bone on the line isn't the same thing. It's one thing to take a sword to the gut. It's another to watch someone you care about fall. Watch them hurt. Watch them walk away. There's a helplessness that suits neither of them.
And the time might yet come.
Bull surveys Dorian steadily for a moment, the hesitance in his posture, like he's forcing himself through familiar motions. He's either rehearsed this or given this speech one too many times before. ]
I told you before. You want this done, over with, you know the word. No questions asked.
[ Dorian's expression changes ever so. A reduction in opacity, revealing a flash of something softer. The curl upwards at the corner of his mouth doesn't lessen this effect as he considers that in silence, until; ]
I looked it up, you know. Some half-attempt of a translation that claimed it means glorious victory.
[ It's a very cut and dry system. It's important, when you're as big and strong and intimidating as he tends to be, that it be very clear where boundaries lie and that those boundaries are respected at all times.
It's also a confirmation that this is what Dorian thinks he ought to do, a half-hearted out, rather than what he wants. Bull cocks his head, one hand lifting to reach out, tracing the edge of those scarred fingers across his jaw. ]
[ He feels his heart twinge, like something crustacean retracting within its defences with a pulse of-- it does feel a bit like fear, that lurch. Maybe that explains a few things. Dorian is quite still for a few extended seconds before he relaxes, almost bodily, chin tucking down a little as his hand comes up.
Palm down, he smooths a touch up Bull's arm, to his thick wrist, then grasping his hand as if he might pull it away. He doesn't, of course, just presses his mouth against the swell of Bull's palm, the kiss only the slightest of impressions made.
[ He'd have taken it gracefully if Dorian used that out. It wouldn't be the first time he'd been a novelty, wouldn't exactly hurt his feelings. Not for that. But things had become entangled, twisted, a gnarled mess and extracting now was already going to be difficult.
Why do it for no reason? Needless hurt was the last thing they needed, when the future could hold any number of ways to tear them in opposing directions. This, right now? Was good, for a number of reasons. And they could all use all the good they could get.
At the kiss, Bull hums. Quietly that single eye slides shut as he leans down, noses against the crown of Dorian's head. Yeah. He's here.
[ If katoh is a glorious victory, then Dorian will accept defeat rather gladly, eyes closing as he feels Bull lean in as he does. Here they are, then, together.
(Dad would be sure to shit.)
It's also an immediate thing, the way greed rushes forth. If he is to have Bull, then he would have him, perhaps exclusively, perhaps right now. The latter seems more pressing than negotiating the terms around the former, and he's used up all his courage for one night. He turns his face up to meet Bull's, lips grazing the rough texture of the other man's jaw before he finds his mouth. His hands, resting on big shoulders, blunt nails felt. ]
Then I'll have you know, [ he manages ] I've no further plans for the evening.
[ Bull rumbles, edging forward, his weight shifting the balance of the mattress as he moves. ]
Gonna have to argue with you there, big guy.
[ He does take the time to set the wine aside -- not a complete savage, really Dorian -- before one massive hand slides against Dorian's face, thumb tracing his cheekbone.
Before slipping back to grip his hair, firm but not tugging. Not yet. There's always a threat of things pushing too far and someone getting hurt, but neither one of them have seen fit to back down.
Time will tell if that burns one of them or not. If they're lucky? It'll just be him. ]
[ It's a strange sort of calming effect, that grip, as Dorian's eyes grow warmer, hooded, and he breathes easier. Or perhaps that's just because the feeling of Bull's fingers in his hair does something to physically affirm what's gone spoken. How long has he been carrying this around, the knowledge of an impending ending to something he values?
Too long, anyway.
And maybe it will take longer to truly let go of, but at least for an evening-- ]
It's certainly taken a turn.
[ He'd resigned himself to drinking until he felt numb enough to sleep while Benevenuta judged him up close. This is better. He relaxes back against Bull's hand, chin tipped up, while his own hand wanders down the other man's broad chest, fingertips chancing over newer scars, and trailing just a faint tickle of static electricity. ]
[ He can paint the image for himself but it seems a poor waste of imagination to do so. He'd much rather focus on the now, for the time being. The molten silver of Dorian's eyes as his dark lashes lower, the muted gleam of candlelight on his bronzed skin and thinking of a far better use for some of that wine already.
When those sparks skate under his thick skin, a hum along his nerve endings, he rumbles low in approval, eyebrow cocking higher. ]
[ His voice has settled back into the low, husky register it gets when their interactions begin to warm and become physical. At Bull's rumble of approval, Dorian then strokes a single digit down Bull's chest, trailing that prickling feeling of static, and then a slightly stronger prod of electricity snaps between finger and flesh, sharp and numb at once.
His lazy smile widens, sharpens. ]
Only as much as you can handle, [ sounds innocent enough. ]
[ Normally, magic gives him pause. He's not afraid of it, necessarily, no more than you should be afraid of anything that can hurt you if you're not careful with it. But Dorian lives and breathes the stuff. That tingle of magic is damn near part of the scent in the air when he's near, and that little snap of ozone in the air, that thrum under his skin? Has him breathing out in a rough noise, eyelid lowering. ]
Uh huh. Tell you what, I'll give you free reign. You get creative as you want and see just how much I can take.
[ A switch, admittedly. Normally it's him holding the reins and guiding things, and he's still reaching down to guide Dorian up as he settles those broad shoulders back against the headboard. But there's an understood trust there by now, and he doesn't mind showing as much as he gets.
Besides. Dorian loves little better than an opportunity to show off. ]
And then? It's gonna be my turn.
[ Dorian can be absolutely certain he'll push him every bit as far, his eye full of dark promise. ]
[ The word creative has him raising an eyebrow, and he goes easily as Bull guides him, moving to straddle one large thigh, his knee slipping between Bull's legs as the other man settles backwards. It's a switch, but one that kindles interest in his eyes as he considers his options, and then a glance back up at that last part.
Which sounds, to him, like a promise. ]
Well, [ Dorian says, pressing his hand low on Bull's chest, smoothing over the thick slab of his midsection. The presence of electricity is tingly, unobtrusive, if unnatural, given the lack of it in day to day life. ] You know our word, if you wish me to stop without question. I might suggest an expansion to our vocabulary, if I may.
[ This fine tugging through the Fade for the most subtle of applications is a matter of control. Fire glyphs applied to glass to heat a good wine, or a touch of ice to numb a twisted ankle. Dorian takes a lot of pride in being a powerful mage, but you can't make that claim without possessing a high level of control. ]
If you wish for less, but without completely stopping, you may say sevesh. [ Leaning in, his mouth ghosts along where his hand had touched Bull's chest, soothing tickled skin with a brush of his mouth, teeth, tongue. ] And I believe the Tevene word for more is please, but don't quote me on that.
[ He palms Bull's cock, then, a gentle squeeze that brings with it that same prickling sensation that teases at his nerve endings without what could constitute as true pain. ]
[ A switch, sure, but Dorian's never seen the way his eyes light up when there's a real challenge in front of him, something he can sink his teeth into. The way he relishes getting to show off just how good he is, at whatever it is he's decided to excel at.
Normally, it's a matter of him taking control, laying the ground rules, guiding whoever it is through so that they don't have to worry about any of that shit. Dorian's adding to it? Makes it feel more like a cooperative effort, something they're building together. That's kind of on the nose as metaphor's go but he chuckles all the same. ]
Oh is it now? Not sure I beli--
[ And he cuts off with a grunt. That tingling across his skin is one thing, an almost ambient hum that's easy enough to soak in like the heat of a freshly-drawn bath. But there's nothing that quite compares to having that same sensation suddenly dig in needle sharp against your cock. The breath he'd taken in is released with a low hum, very nearly a growl in the back of his throat. ]
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no subject
So, you decided to offer a clean break. Before it gets too involved.
[ And bear the burden of that with all his usual grace and private melancholy, without question. He's gotten used to wearing his misery like a fine dressing gown, nursing his wine and perfecting the image.
It's a little irritating, to be honest. Especially when he can think of so many better looks for him. ]
no subject
[ he manages a playful sparkle in his eye ]
everyone says you're slow on the uptake [ they do not ] but you're much cleverer than you look.
[ It doesn't last. It's also something of a farce to talk about this like he isn't already involved, but this is what he gets for accidentally-- ]
Better clean than messy. Better now than later. Later might be dangerous.
no subject
[ It's not the same thing. Putting flesh and blood and bone on the line isn't the same thing. It's one thing to take a sword to the gut. It's another to watch someone you care about fall. Watch them hurt. Watch them walk away. There's a helplessness that suits neither of them.
And the time might yet come.
Bull surveys Dorian steadily for a moment, the hesitance in his posture, like he's forcing himself through familiar motions. He's either rehearsed this or given this speech one too many times before. ]
I told you before. You want this done, over with, you know the word. No questions asked.
no subject
I looked it up, you know. Some half-attempt of a translation that claimed it means glorious victory.
[ He does know the word. Instead of saying it; ]
And what happens if I don't say it?
no subject
It's also a confirmation that this is what Dorian thinks he ought to do, a half-hearted out, rather than what he wants. Bull cocks his head, one hand lifting to reach out, tracing the edge of those scarred fingers across his jaw. ]
Only one way to find out.
no subject
Palm down, he smooths a touch up Bull's arm, to his thick wrist, then grasping his hand as if he might pull it away. He doesn't, of course, just presses his mouth against the swell of Bull's palm, the kiss only the slightest of impressions made.
Something to keep. ]
no subject
Why do it for no reason? Needless hurt was the last thing they needed, when the future could hold any number of ways to tear them in opposing directions. This, right now? Was good, for a number of reasons. And they could all use all the good they could get.
At the kiss, Bull hums. Quietly that single eye slides shut as he leans down, noses against the crown of Dorian's head. Yeah. He's here.
Here to keep, for the time being. ]
no subject
(Dad would be sure to shit.)
It's also an immediate thing, the way greed rushes forth. If he is to have Bull, then he would have him, perhaps exclusively, perhaps right now. The latter seems more pressing than negotiating the terms around the former, and he's used up all his courage for one night. He turns his face up to meet Bull's, lips grazing the rough texture of the other man's jaw before he finds his mouth. His hands, resting on big shoulders, blunt nails felt. ]
Then I'll have you know, [ he manages ] I've no further plans for the evening.
no subject
Gonna have to argue with you there, big guy.
[ He does take the time to set the wine aside -- not a complete savage, really Dorian -- before one massive hand slides against Dorian's face, thumb tracing his cheekbone.
Before slipping back to grip his hair, firm but not tugging. Not yet. There's always a threat of things pushing too far and someone getting hurt, but neither one of them have seen fit to back down.
Time will tell if that burns one of them or not. If they're lucky? It'll just be him. ]
I'd say your evening's damn well booked.
no subject
Too long, anyway.
And maybe it will take longer to truly let go of, but at least for an evening-- ]
It's certainly taken a turn.
[ He'd resigned himself to drinking until he felt numb enough to sleep while Benevenuta judged him up close. This is better. He relaxes back against Bull's hand, chin tipped up, while his own hand wanders down the other man's broad chest, fingertips chancing over newer scars, and trailing just a faint tickle of static electricity. ]
no subject
[ He can paint the image for himself but it seems a poor waste of imagination to do so. He'd much rather focus on the now, for the time being. The molten silver of Dorian's eyes as his dark lashes lower, the muted gleam of candlelight on his bronzed skin and thinking of a far better use for some of that wine already.
When those sparks skate under his thick skin, a hum along his nerve endings, he rumbles low in approval, eyebrow cocking higher. ]
Oooh. That how it's gonna be?
[ That's not disapproval, no. ]
no subject
[ His voice has settled back into the low, husky register it gets when their interactions begin to warm and become physical. At Bull's rumble of approval, Dorian then strokes a single digit down Bull's chest, trailing that prickling feeling of static, and then a slightly stronger prod of electricity snaps between finger and flesh, sharp and numb at once.
His lazy smile widens, sharpens. ]
Only as much as you can handle, [ sounds innocent enough. ]
no subject
Uh huh. Tell you what, I'll give you free reign. You get creative as you want and see just how much I can take.
[ A switch, admittedly. Normally it's him holding the reins and guiding things, and he's still reaching down to guide Dorian up as he settles those broad shoulders back against the headboard. But there's an understood trust there by now, and he doesn't mind showing as much as he gets.
Besides. Dorian loves little better than an opportunity to show off. ]
And then? It's gonna be my turn.
[ Dorian can be absolutely certain he'll push him every bit as far, his eye full of dark promise. ]
no subject
Which sounds, to him, like a promise. ]
Well, [ Dorian says, pressing his hand low on Bull's chest, smoothing over the thick slab of his midsection. The presence of electricity is tingly, unobtrusive, if unnatural, given the lack of it in day to day life. ] You know our word, if you wish me to stop without question. I might suggest an expansion to our vocabulary, if I may.
[ This fine tugging through the Fade for the most subtle of applications is a matter of control. Fire glyphs applied to glass to heat a good wine, or a touch of ice to numb a twisted ankle. Dorian takes a lot of pride in being a powerful mage, but you can't make that claim without possessing a high level of control. ]
If you wish for less, but without completely stopping, you may say sevesh. [ Leaning in, his mouth ghosts along where his hand had touched Bull's chest, soothing tickled skin with a brush of his mouth, teeth, tongue. ] And I believe the Tevene word for more is please, but don't quote me on that.
[ He palms Bull's cock, then, a gentle squeeze that brings with it that same prickling sensation that teases at his nerve endings without what could constitute as true pain. ]
no subject
Normally, it's a matter of him taking control, laying the ground rules, guiding whoever it is through so that they don't have to worry about any of that shit. Dorian's adding to it? Makes it feel more like a cooperative effort, something they're building together. That's kind of on the nose as metaphor's go but he chuckles all the same. ]
Oh is it now? Not sure I beli--
[ And he cuts off with a grunt. That tingling across his skin is one thing, an almost ambient hum that's easy enough to soak in like the heat of a freshly-drawn bath. But there's nothing that quite compares to having that same sensation suddenly dig in needle sharp against your cock. The breath he'd taken in is released with a low hum, very nearly a growl in the back of his throat. ]
--believe you, kadan.