[ He goes where he's pulled, ignoring the odd twist in his stomach at Bull coming in close on his bad side. But it is only Bull, only someone he has come to trust likely a touch more than is wise. Bull is a spy and a danger in his own right-
But honest enough. Such thoughts have no place here. He melts little by little at the touch of his lips, listing into them easily enough. ]
I have not seen myself in a mirror since- so I shall take your word for it.
[ There's a husky note to the chuckle that follows, before Bull's hand slips up beneath Zevran's shirt and palms skin, the lines of lean muscle at his hip. ]
Course, I think I'll need to see all of you to get the full picture. To say for certain.
[ And teeth nip gently at the lobe of his ear. Nothing too sharp, nothing intended to hurt. Not tonight. These are tentative steps he's leading him in by. ]
[ Not that he's feeling particularly eager, what he has in his minds eye is likely more and less awful than the truth of the matter.
It's a gentle prompt, but one he follows easily, tugging the shirt up and off, tossing it to the side. Well away from the bed- Alistair would be cross if he came back to a shirt stained. The bite prompts a shiver, a faint sigh; a spark of contact rather than a driving needle. ]
[ The shiver is felt, a brief tense and release under his hand, but it's good. Still good, and he ventures another, lower, along the long curve of his throat. The movements are slow, deliberate, matched by the upward slide of Bull's fingers against his stomach, up just as smooth as the stroke of a painter's brush.
Give him enough to focus on that isn't the shit he's had to try and come to terms with, lately. ]
Might get one set in here, one day. Could be fun.
[ Another soft nip. And then another. Warmth breath ghosts over damp skin, as the broad pad of his thumb brushes against Zevran's nipple. ]
[ There's an idle notion as Bull's hand slips over one of his newer cuts- that he'll need to find his needles and fill in the tattoo again- a stuttered thought that slips away at the next bite. Later. He can fuss over his skin later. Right now he wants to forget how it looks and focus on how it feels.
Something aside from the dull ache and numb chill and Bull, as ever, is so warm. ]
I knew a man that kept a full size one propped up next to his bed for his lovers.
[ He angles his head to the side, offering Bull the entirety of his throat and shoulder to nip, hands on his shoulders twitching at that faint press. Few give them that kind of attention- well. Taas did. Few others. He arches into it without thought, letting instinct guide him rather than practice. ]
[ Back and forth, he let his thumb flick, circling until that little nub started to stiffen under his touch. Some lovers were more sensitive there than others, but Zevran certainly seemed to be enjoying it.
Bull's mouth tugs at the corners. ]
Mmm. Already picturing a damn fine view. Being able to watch as your eyes go all blissed-out while you're sinking down onto me, all while getting to watch you stretch open for me from behind?
[ There's a low, strained noise as he nips at him again, drawing back just far enough to catch the elf's gaze. ]
[ There's a hitch to his breath, a precursor to something greater that Bull will doubtless unlock in full shortly. He has a talent for it.
The visual- though, that does make him shiver. The idea of being had and watching Bull's face as much as he is being watched? Appeals mightily. Eyes half lidded and lazy he draws his hands along Bull's jaw, lips twisted in an easy smile. ]
Watching you lose some of your composure as well- now that would be a marvel.
Sounds like a challenge, when you say it like that.
[ And Bull smiles, all teeth, moments before his fingers turn inward and give Zevran a blunt pinch. ]
Think you're up for it?
[ That composure is necessary, generally. He has to hold himself in check, not go too far, careful not to hurt without purpose or meaning. It's easier with another Qunari...but Zevran said some. Some might be possible.
[ His own smile is more certain- the scars on his face tugging at the corner of his mouth to offer it a wicked edge- something he will have to become accustomed to but can learn to use. This, though-
This he knows.
He sucks in a sharp breath, arching into Bull's hand. A difference between pain and hurting, between enduring and enjoying- but this is no fine needle of a knife cut. This is no mocking tirade about his worth. ]
[ That thumb smooths over him as though in apology, rubbing slow circles before returning to pinch again, slow. As he's promised. But the pain doesn't come without pleasure, not here, and Bull lean in to catch the corner of Zevran's mouth.
A tease of what he can have, close enough to taste. Come and get it.
He's more than just pieces being put back together now, and given the opportunity he can find himself again. ]
[ Challenge accepted. Zevran chases the brush of that kiss, hands slipping up to Bull's horns to hold his head still long enough for him to take it. The usual tricks don't work the same and he doesn't have much mind to draw on them- but there is a memory. Recent, warm, smells of home and the heat he's only ever experienced with Qunari.
Nipping at Bull's lips, teasing them he runs his nails along the skin where the rough shape of horns meets his scalp, digging in with a low sound. ]
[ It earns a rumble of approval deep in Bull's throat, before turning that kiss back on him, pressing deep and hungry, letting him draw from him too. He's not bound, not beholden, not trapped against anything, but embraced and drawn inward against Bull's hips, as one hand drops to squeeze at the curve of his ass.
[ Painting himself against Bull is easy- he wants to be warm, he wants to be braced against that solid chest- he wants to give as good as he gets, pulling himself up on his knees to get a better angle on the kiss. To press deeper, bite harder- to try to take rather than yield. ]
[ Bull only chuckles at the bite, nipping back in retaliation, before leaning back into the sheets and tugging Zevran with him. There he has all the leverage in the world to shimmy up, to take from that kiss as Bull strokes against his hips, kneads the muscles of his thighs.
They're both still wearing pants. Could be problematic. But there's no hurry, going slow for Zevran's sake. All he really needs is to know that he's still wanted, he's not defective, he's more than enough.
[ Little aches and little knots of tension- he hasn't been doing his stretches. Hasn't had the mind to and it leaves him tense, loosening gradually under Bull's hands. Zevran rides him down, crackles a laugh against Bulls lips. It's good. It's fine, here, like this, biting at Bull's bottom lip and tugging, hands dragging to massage the base of his skull, the ridge where horn meets scalp.
Little by little he starts grinding his hips against Bull's torso- half hard and more than interested. ]
[ One knot after another, until he's unraveling right there in front of him, draped over him and flexing his hips. Bull's hands fit there so easily, cupping the slender jut of bone, fingers slipping downward to almost brush against his cock, or perhaps just pull the fabric tighter. Give him more pressure to grind against. ]
It's always the horns.
[ He's amused when the words murmur against Zevran's lips, halfway through another kiss. ]
People can't get enough of them.
[ Some might argue against humor in the bedroom. And Bull probably wouldn't want to sleep with those people. ]
You must admit- [ He hums softly against Bull's lips, rolling against the renewed pressure. Not as much as a hand or a firm plane of muscle but an enjoyable tease he can get into. ] You do have a magnificent rack. I might be a little jealous.
[ Stroking from base to tip in either direction is impossible, but he can lean off enough to one side to manage it, following the line of Bull's horn with blatant appreciation. ]
That why you can't keep your hands off 'em? I understand.
[ Bull chuckles openly, hand dipping low between Zevran's thighs at last. The heel of his palm rolls up against him, feeling out the curve of his cock through the thick fabric, remembering all too easily the curve of it, the delicate ink work decorating him. ]
We see the odd Vashoth in Antiva- and I have come across more than my fair share this past decade but I will say, I have never seen horns quite this marvelous save on a dragon.[ Curious more than anything else he leans up enough to press his lips to the thick skin where they meet Bull's skull, tracing back and forth over the transition. ] Can you feel that?
[ Or, well. That. That Bull can feel hard against his palm easily enough, Zevran's hips hitching to roll into Bull's grip. ]
I could say 'you should ask sweetly' but I think not, mm? Touch away.
[ Comparing him to a dragon? Never let it be said Zevran didn't know how to flatter an ego, even one that didn't need any real sort of validation. Who didn't want to hear themselves compared to a dragon?
Chuckling again, Bull lowered his head, letting Zevran continue those exploratory kisses. ]
Oh yeah. I can feel that just fine.
[ And it sent a warm shiver up his spine, a desire to stretch out and just let him continue. Ah, but he has goals in mind. And at least some of those goals involve peeling him out of those pants.
He still drags it out, drags his nails up the front of his trousers before hooking his fingers into the fastenings in earnest. ]
[ Feel and enjoy it, if the tone of Bull's voice is anything to go by. Pleased with himself Zevran continues his exploration around the ridge of Bull's horns, dragging his tongue along skin and the firm shaft- the texture new and all the more curious for it. Not as smooth as bone nor jagged like stone, but ridged in it's own way. Curious.
He is, admittedly, distracted by the carding of Bull's nails, thighs going tense as he pants against Bull's skin. ]
[ It's a distant sensation against the actual horn, but still felt. Still pleasurable. And Zevran seems to be enjoying himself. He really needs to invest in that mirror, someday.
In the meanwhile he's happy with what he has, here in his hands. Slipping the waist of Zevran's trousers down over his hips is an easy thing, peeling downward in slow tugs, inch by inch, until that beautiful cock of his falls free, easily caught in the curl of his palm. ]
Is there anything else you'd like to hear me say? Much as for you it's always the horns- for me?
[ He cuts himself off with a soft moan, shivering from toe tip to ear tip at the heat of Bull's palm. Qunari and Wardens- they always run hot. ] It is the accent. Or the tattoos.
[ More than just the horns, the scars, the fine point of Bull's ears- duller than an elf's and far less delicate- call to Zevran's attention. One hand still trailing and stroking along Bull's horn he dips his head enough to bite at the point, soothing it afterward with the brush of his tongue. ]
[ With Zevran tilting his head to get at his ear -- a move that has a low almost-growl coming out of the Qunari -- he's left his throat open. A move Bull doesn't hesitate to use, lips and teeth bearing down to suck against his skin slow, rhythmically.
All as he lets his fingers roll over Zevran's cock, squeezing firm now and then just to feel the slide of warm, hard flesh rubbing against the inside of his palm. ]
[ Curled close like this Zevran's moan is more felt than heard- a subvocal rumble through his throat that burrs past his lips where they're fastened around the tip of Bull's ear. Languid. That's the word for this-
Languid. Savoring. Before it'd been slow and hard and aching and this is- if not sweeter? Kinder. Giving him a gentler descent.
Slow and dreamy Zevran rolls his hips into that too large, too hot hand, relishing the rough glide. Clever of bull to wind him down a little, lead him into it. If asked outright at the beginning Zevran wouldn't have known what to say. But like this? It's easy to ask for what he wants. ]
I want you to open me up slow and make me come on your fingers, and then? I want to ride you, slow, until either your resolve breaks- or mine does.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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But honest enough. Such thoughts have no place here. He melts little by little at the touch of his lips, listing into them easily enough. ]
I have not seen myself in a mirror since- so I shall take your word for it.
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[ There's a husky note to the chuckle that follows, before Bull's hand slips up beneath Zevran's shirt and palms skin, the lines of lean muscle at his hip. ]
Course, I think I'll need to see all of you to get the full picture. To say for certain.
[ And teeth nip gently at the lobe of his ear. Nothing too sharp, nothing intended to hurt. Not tonight. These are tentative steps he's leading him in by. ]
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[ Not that he's feeling particularly eager, what he has in his minds eye is likely more and less awful than the truth of the matter.
It's a gentle prompt, but one he follows easily, tugging the shirt up and off, tossing it to the side. Well away from the bed- Alistair would be cross if he came back to a shirt stained. The bite prompts a shiver, a faint sigh; a spark of contact rather than a driving needle. ]
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Give him enough to focus on that isn't the shit he's had to try and come to terms with, lately. ]
Might get one set in here, one day. Could be fun.
[ Another soft nip. And then another. Warmth breath ghosts over damp skin, as the broad pad of his thumb brushes against Zevran's nipple. ]
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Something aside from the dull ache and numb chill and Bull, as ever, is so warm. ]
I knew a man that kept a full size one propped up next to his bed for his lovers.
[ He angles his head to the side, offering Bull the entirety of his throat and shoulder to nip, hands on his shoulders twitching at that faint press. Few give them that kind of attention- well. Taas did. Few others. He arches into it without thought, letting instinct guide him rather than practice. ]
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[ Back and forth, he let his thumb flick, circling until that little nub started to stiffen under his touch. Some lovers were more sensitive there than others, but Zevran certainly seemed to be enjoying it.
Bull's mouth tugs at the corners. ]
Mmm. Already picturing a damn fine view. Being able to watch as your eyes go all blissed-out while you're sinking down onto me, all while getting to watch you stretch open for me from behind?
[ There's a low, strained noise as he nips at him again, drawing back just far enough to catch the elf's gaze. ]
Fuck, tell me that's not hot.
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[ There's a hitch to his breath, a precursor to something greater that Bull will doubtless unlock in full shortly. He has a talent for it.
The visual- though, that does make him shiver. The idea of being had and watching Bull's face as much as he is being watched? Appeals mightily. Eyes half lidded and lazy he draws his hands along Bull's jaw, lips twisted in an easy smile. ]
Watching you lose some of your composure as well- now that would be a marvel.
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[ And Bull smiles, all teeth, moments before his fingers turn inward and give Zevran a blunt pinch. ]
Think you're up for it?
[ That composure is necessary, generally. He has to hold himself in check, not go too far, careful not to hurt without purpose or meaning. It's easier with another Qunari...but Zevran said some. Some might be possible.
Depending on how the night went. ]
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[ His own smile is more certain- the scars on his face tugging at the corner of his mouth to offer it a wicked edge- something he will have to become accustomed to but can learn to use. This, though-
This he knows.
He sucks in a sharp breath, arching into Bull's hand. A difference between pain and hurting, between enduring and enjoying- but this is no fine needle of a knife cut. This is no mocking tirade about his worth. ]
Yes.
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[ That thumb smooths over him as though in apology, rubbing slow circles before returning to pinch again, slow. As he's promised. But the pain doesn't come without pleasure, not here, and Bull lean in to catch the corner of Zevran's mouth.
A tease of what he can have, close enough to taste. Come and get it.
He's more than just pieces being put back together now, and given the opportunity he can find himself again. ]
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Nipping at Bull's lips, teasing them he runs his nails along the skin where the rough shape of horns meets his scalp, digging in with a low sound. ]
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Encouragement. Come on. ]
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They're both still wearing pants. Could be problematic. But there's no hurry, going slow for Zevran's sake. All he really needs is to know that he's still wanted, he's not defective, he's more than enough.
Just like this. ]
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Little by little he starts grinding his hips against Bull's torso- half hard and more than interested. ]
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It's always the horns.
[ He's amused when the words murmur against Zevran's lips, halfway through another kiss. ]
People can't get enough of them.
[ Some might argue against humor in the bedroom. And Bull probably wouldn't want to sleep with those people. ]
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[ Stroking from base to tip in either direction is impossible, but he can lean off enough to one side to manage it, following the line of Bull's horn with blatant appreciation. ]
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[ Bull chuckles openly, hand dipping low between Zevran's thighs at last. The heel of his palm rolls up against him, feeling out the curve of his cock through the thick fabric, remembering all too easily the curve of it, the delicate ink work decorating him. ]
Got a few things I want to get my hands on, too.
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[ Or, well. That. That Bull can feel hard against his palm easily enough, Zevran's hips hitching to roll into Bull's grip. ]
I could say 'you should ask sweetly' but I think not, mm? Touch away.
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Chuckling again, Bull lowered his head, letting Zevran continue those exploratory kisses. ]
Oh yeah. I can feel that just fine.
[ And it sent a warm shiver up his spine, a desire to stretch out and just let him continue. Ah, but he has goals in mind. And at least some of those goals involve peeling him out of those pants.
He still drags it out, drags his nails up the front of his trousers before hooking his fingers into the fastenings in earnest. ]
You?
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He is, admittedly, distracted by the carding of Bull's nails, thighs going tense as he pants against Bull's skin. ]
Nnnh. Yes. And you know it.
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In the meanwhile he's happy with what he has, here in his hands. Slipping the waist of Zevran's trousers down over his hips is an easy thing, peeling downward in slow tugs, inch by inch, until that beautiful cock of his falls free, easily caught in the curl of his palm. ]
It's true. I just like hearing you say it.
[ It's the simple things, truly. ]
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[ He cuts himself off with a soft moan, shivering from toe tip to ear tip at the heat of Bull's palm. Qunari and Wardens- they always run hot. ] It is the accent. Or the tattoos.
[ More than just the horns, the scars, the fine point of Bull's ears- duller than an elf's and far less delicate- call to Zevran's attention. One hand still trailing and stroking along Bull's horn he dips his head enough to bite at the point, soothing it afterward with the brush of his tongue. ]
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[ With Zevran tilting his head to get at his ear -- a move that has a low almost-growl coming out of the Qunari -- he's left his throat open. A move Bull doesn't hesitate to use, lips and teeth bearing down to suck against his skin slow, rhythmically.
All as he lets his fingers roll over Zevran's cock, squeezing firm now and then just to feel the slide of warm, hard flesh rubbing against the inside of his palm. ]
Like what you want me to do to you, tonight.
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[ Curled close like this Zevran's moan is more felt than heard- a subvocal rumble through his throat that burrs past his lips where they're fastened around the tip of Bull's ear. Languid. That's the word for this-
Languid. Savoring. Before it'd been slow and hard and aching and this is- if not sweeter? Kinder. Giving him a gentler descent.
Slow and dreamy Zevran rolls his hips into that too large, too hot hand, relishing the rough glide. Clever of bull to wind him down a little, lead him into it. If asked outright at the beginning Zevran wouldn't have known what to say. But like this? It's easy to ask for what he wants. ]
I want you to open me up slow and make me come on your fingers, and then? I want to ride you, slow, until either your resolve breaks- or mine does.
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