My Adoribull

I don’t normally do fanfiction, always too afraid that I’m mucking about with someone else’s baby too much. But this story wanted to be told and, when all was written and done, I thought it was pretty good. So apologies in advance if my Adoribull isn’t your Adoribull. And, if you don’t already know, I am, by nature, an erotica writer, so ya know, mind the filthy, filthy smut.

 

What You Want of Me

Half-way up the stairs, far from prying eyes, the Bull felt Dorian reach for his hand, tucking his elegant fingers into his own large, calloused grasp. He loved the touch of Dorian’s skin against his. It was a soft luxury, finely crafted. Like a forbidden treasure he was never fully sure he wasn’t about to break or have taken away. In the shadows, he stared at their entwined hands as Dorian lay his head against the Bull’s forearm. They were so different, in size, looks, and manner, with centuries of both their people between them. Impossibly held in that small twist of mismatched hands. They walked in silence and the Bull wondered what that would look like in the light. Wondered what, through others’ eyes, they would see.

He shook his head. Didn’t matter. Asit tal-eb. It is to be. This was what they were. They existed in the shadows. In stolen moments behind closed doors. And, even if he wasn’t altogether sure exactly why that was — discretion, past ghosts, or some damn thing or another — the Bull supposed it was better than nothing. Touching hidden treasure still beat the shit out of an empty hand.

Didn’t it?

After all, he was Hissrad, Keeper of Illusions. A spy and a liar, by nature. Maybe he belonged to the shadows and had no business thinking about the light.

He watched Dorian enter his room as if it were his own, as if he had every right to be there. As if he belonged there. Which, admittedly, he did. His room — his bed — was theirs in a way Dorian’s never would be.

Which was fine.

All his things were here. He could just imagine the horrified look on Dorian’s face, if they got caught bringing rope or his tools into the Tevinter’s fine, pristine room. No, it was just more practical to come here. To his space. His domain.

And it wasn’t as if he cared if his curtains caught fire.

“Are you all right?”

The Bull blinked as he turned to see the man he would always think of as his, whether or not the claim was returned, lit by the lamp, the light making his pale skin seem to glow. “Sure,” he said as Dorian reached for his belt. “Finally got you all to myself; my night’s definitely looking up.”

Dorian shook his head with a small smile, rolling his eyes indulgently as he shrugged out of his clothes. Left in little more than trousers and his boots, he placed a hand on his coyly cocked hip. “Well, now that you have me here, Qunari, what do you plan to do with me?”

The Ben-Hassrath agent in him studied the mage, for a moment. He’d taken off his shirt, but left the pants. That meant slow. He wanted the Bull to take his time. Not too much — or he’d have made him strip him layer by layer — but he was definitely in the mood to play. The hand on that thrust out hip was deliberate. Meant to draw his eye down as those slim, elegant fingers tapped impatiently against the tight, taut muscles of his ass.

The Bull smiled. He could work with that.

“Come here,” he told Dorian as he took a seat on the bed.

Dorian frowned, as if considering it, before sauntering over to stand between his knees, looking put out. The Bull narrowed his gaze at the man. It was a weird game the mage liked to play. Pretend not to want what you clearly want. Ask for something by acting like you don’t want it.

But the Bull supposed he’d played weirder games before. Sure, that milkmaid/new steer game he’d played with a particularly inventive serving wench had been an odd experience, but at least the rules had been easy enough to learn. Dorian’s game always seemed to have new or changing rules. Ravish me in the bedroom. But don't touch me in the tavern. Talk dirty to me. But say nothing in front of anyone else. Tell me what I want. But don’t make me say it.

The Bull shook his head. He wanted the contrary man all the time. Like, all the time. He could have his sword hilt-deep into the belly of an enemy, feeling their blood hot and spraying all over the battlefield and he still wanted the eye-rolling, little mage.

But Dorian seemed to need these four walls, needed his games and the shadows, to want him. The Bull wished he didn’t need to know why. Didn’t need to know when what they did — who they were — together was acceptable and when it wasn’t.

He knew it was complicated — the mage had told him so enough times. Knew Dorian’s past held darkness that overshadowed his present. And hiding, for the Bull, was easier than coming out into the light was for Dorian. He knew that.

It’s enough to be wanted, he told himself as he reached out to grab the band of Dorian’s pants, pulling him close for a kiss. After all, what the hell did he know about love? About relationships? Even though this — what he had with Dorian — felt like more than he’d known before, what did he know, really? It just felt strange that he could talk and be free about relationships built on little more than heat and fun, meant only to last for the space of a night or two, but here, with his mage, he had to hide. Had to be hidden. Maybe, for all the crap Varric filled his books with, that was all there was to love. The games lovers played. Maybe it was enough to know, within this moment, within this space, he was needed. Even if, outside that, he wasn’t.

Dorian stepped back as he laid a hand against the Bull’s shoulder. “I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

“Sure.” The Bull shrugged. He’d been quite literally inside of the man; felt only fair to let him in a bit as well. “What do you want to know?”

Dorian pursed his lips indecisively. “I was talking to Cole—”

“Oh great,” the Bull groaned. “What did the demon boy have to say now?”

Dorian smiled slightly. “Nothing really. Just...” He sniffed and fidgeted awkwardly. “He’d said that I was losing you. That ‘the tighter you held me, the farther I slipped away.’ ” He shook his head and laughed. “Doesn’t even make sense.” He looked at the Bull. “It’s not true,” he told him, his tone insistent and obvious. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The Bull nodded. They weren’t going anywhere. Not moving further away. But not exactly moving closer either. He nodded again. “I understand.”

Asit tal-eb.

It was enough. To have his strong, wise, arrogant, little mage — even for a moment, to be able to call him his — was enough. It made him feel powerful and proud. Made him feel worthy.

And, if that was all they had, it had to be enough.

Dorian sighed relieved. “And, well, I just thought you should know.” He tilted his head curiously as his gaze swept over the other man. “He also said that I should ask you what you want.”

The Bull let out a confused laugh. “What do you mean?”

Dorian shrugged as his hand idly stroked the Bull’s broad shoulder, touching the tough leather that covered it. “You’re always saying you know what I want.” He gave a little nod as he drew small spirals over his skin, sending tingles through the Bull’s body with each light stroke. “And we always end up doing exactly what I want. Sometimes, even before I know I want it!” His hand stopped as he frowned, making the Bull instantly miss the touch. “But it occurs to me that I really have no idea what it is you want.”

He grabbed the mage’s hand and kissed his fingers gently. “Don’t worry about me, kadan; believe me, I’m just fine.” He smiled at all the smooth, naked flesh in front of him. “No complaints here.”

Dorian crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not worried, so much as curious.”

The Bull leaned back and sighed. So, now the man wanted to talk? He shrugged. All right. “Well, I really like seeing you go all tense and hearing you moan when I—”

“No, no, no,” Dorian said, waving his hand out as a silly, sweet blush flushed his pale neck and cheeks, “again that’s what you’re doing to me.” He shuffled his feet a bit, shifting his weight from one side to the other. “What if I…” he shrugged as his voice trailed off, “you know… want to do things to you?”

The Bull raised his eyebrows. “You want to do things to me?” He sat back up again, intrigued. “Like what?”

Dorian rolled his eyes and huffed. “I don’t know.” He smacked the Bull’s shoulder. “Not specifics anyway. Not exactly.” He shook his head. “Everything we’ve done is just so different than what I’ve known in the past. Before, with others, it’d been more hurried. More rash. More meaningless, if I’m being perfectly honest. But this, us…” He shrugged. “It’s just more. Sometimes more than I know what to do with. Anyway, that’s why I asked if there were things that you want me to do.” He made an impatient sound and waved his hand expectantly. “Are there things you want me to do?”

The Bull frowned and blinked. “Uh,” he said, taken aback by the question, “I mean, I don’t know.” He shrugged and shook his head. “I’ve never really thought about it.”

Dorian balked. “You’ve never thought about me touching you?” he accused, his voice practically screeching. “Well, that’s flattering.”

“Not like that.” It wasn’t like he didn’t think about them together. He did. A lot, in fact. Probably more than he should. It’s just that, in his fantasies, he was always the one doing. Tying up Dorian. Wielding tools on Dorian. His hands on Dorian’s body. Him giving Dorian pleasure. He shook his head. Wasn’t that enough? “I just…” Wasn’t that what Dorian wanted? “I’m happy with...” What more could the damned Tevinter want? “I mean, we could just keep doing what we’re doing.” What more could the Bull give?

“Is that what you want?”

The Qunari agent lowered his gaze and leaned back. The bed gave under his shifting weight as he pulled his legs up to sit cross-legged onto the bed. “I don’t...” He shook his head, feeling the game’s rules change. Again. This wasn’t how this worked. Wasn’t how they worked. He had a role, a job, within… whatever it was they were doing. But, within the space of a few words, the Bull felt that role slip, felt the balance between them shift. Damn demon kid, couldn’t he just stay out of what was better left alone? He felt heat rise under his skin, making his neck and face feel itchy as his shoulders slumped in on himself. “I don’t even know what you’re asking.”

What did it matter what he wanted? What difference did that really make, in the grand scheme of things? He enjoyed what they did; knew for damned sure Dorian enjoyed it as well. Wasn’t that enough?

The Bull felt more than saw Dorian step closer. He peered up at the man who stood tall near the bed. The perspective from below was weird and made him feel more than a little uneasy. “It’s a simple question, Bull.” The mage smiled sadly as he touched the Bull’s beard roughened cheek, lifting his face up gently and straightening his spine until they looked at each other eye-to-eye. Taking a lighter tone, he teased, “Don’t make me drag Cole up here.”

The Bull let out a small laugh. “Hey, I’m all for bringing in more partners, but — even for me — that’d be weird.”

Dorian gave him a wry glare and sat on the bed beside him. “Then answer the question.” He gave him a pointed look. “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about me touching you.” Dorian let his hand slide down over the Bull’s chest, brushing over his nipples. “My hands on your body.” His voice lowered as his fingers dipped low to stroke his thigh. “The taste of you on my tongue.”

The Bull swallowed hard. “Well, when you say it like that…”

Dorian smiled his small, secret smile. The one the Bull liked to think he saved just for him. “How would I touch you?”

The Bull’s mouth felt dry as he tried to figure out what Dorian wanted him to say. He looked into the other man’s eyes and tried to read his desires there. But all he saw were questions he didn’t know if he had answers to.

What did he want?

He wanted what Dorian wanted.

He wanted to be wanted. Needed. He wanted a purpose to serve and a place to belong.

But that hardly seemed like the answer Dorian was looking for. So he kept his peace.

“Would I touch you here?” Dorian asked as he trailed his nails over the Bull’s thigh, scraping at the sensitive crease of his leg just beneath the leather of his belt.

The Bull’s breath hitched as skin so often protected felt breached. Exposed. Naked beneath the layers of cloth. “That’s good,” he grunted. And not, at the same time. It left him vulnerable in a way that didn't sit well with him. But, for Dorian, he could handle it. He swallowed again. “Real good.”

“Good,” Dorian said as he shifted a bit on the bed. He reached up for the clasp of the Bull’s harness over his large, now heaving chest. “Very good.”

The Bull held his breath as he watched those nimble hands work the leather off him. He didn’t understand this. Didn’t get the rules. He felt Dorian’s sweet mouth kiss the heart of his chest as he lay the harness off to the side, before his tender lips trailed hot brushes down over his middle while Dorian’s hands made short work of his belt. He shook his head, trying to clear it. No, he needed to think. Needed to make sense of this. Needed to regain control.

“How about this?” Dorian asked, his face all but pressed up against the Bull’s needy flesh as he dragged his trousers down off his hips slowly. Dorian carefully worked it over the Bull’s erection, all without his delicate hands ever touching him beyond the briefest touch. It was an exquisite tease. Dorian placed a kiss — a glistening mark of lips and tongue — just above his belly before he tugged the Bull’s trousers to his knees.

The Bull felt his body strain, reaching in a need to touch. He reached out to grab Dorian by the waist, so he could reverse their positions and press the smaller man into the mattress.

But Dorian stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “My turn this time,” Dorian insisted, “remember? All you have to do is lay back and enjoy.” Suddenly, Dorian sat straight and smiled, a wicked gleam lighting his eyes. “In fact...”

The Bull sat up as Dorian scuttled off the bed before disappearing over the edge. After a bit of scrounging, Dorian stood up, that gleam making the Bull wary, as the mage began to unwind a bundle of rope. “Uhh,” the Bull grunted.

“Forgive me, if I do this wrong,” Dorian said as he climbed onto the bed to straddle the Bull’s wide hips, the press of his cock against the mage’s thigh almost obscene, “I don’t exactly do this as often as you.”

The Bull gritted his teeth as Dorian’s hips moved over him, as all of his body pressed all along his own, while the squirrely mage reached up to tie the Bull’s wrists together behind his neck. The Bull breathed deep, smelling the sweet scent of the man as his nose touched Dorian’s throat. God, he smelled good. He leaned forward to lick the delicate hollow, that dip of skin.

“Ah, ah,” he heard Dorian say as he yanked the Bull’s bound hands back. “Behave,” he warned as he gave the Bull a stern stare. “If you think you can.”

The Bull thought about that as Dorian laid him back onto the bed. The rules were definitely changing. Turning on their face. Don’t do what you normally do. Let me do. He nodded slightly. Okay. He could play that game.

Curious, he pulled against the rope knotted around his wrists. It was a good hold. He smiled. Not bad for his first time.

“You are so large,” he heard Dorian comment softly, more to himself than to anyone.

The Bull chuckled, adjusting his neck so he could rest his head and horns on his arms. “Thanks for noticing,” he said with a lewd hip thrust.

“I mean, all over,” Dorian said scoldingly. “So much larger than most people.” He laid his hands on the Bull’s chest, his hands so small over the wide expanse. “You’re so powerful and strong. A formidable force. If you wanted to get free right now, you could, couldn’t you?”

The Bull shrugged. Break his thumb, twist free. If he had to. But that was the point of the game. When the roles were reversed, all Dorian ever had to do was say the word and the Bull would set him free. It was only really fun to be caught by someone you knew, at any time you wanted, would set you free.

Dorian sighed and pouted. “This is still all about what I want, isn’t it?” he asked. “You’ll lay there and let me...” He waved his hand dismissively. “All because I asked you to.” He frowned. “Why have you never asked me to?”

The prone Qunari shrugged. “Figured, if you wanted to touch, you’d do it. You didn’t.” Which was fine. He could understand that. He sucked in a breath as he felt the Tevinter’s refined fingers trace a large, matted scar that slashed across his chest. Just one of many marring his war-hewn body.  He clenched his fists, feeling the asymmetrical loss on his left hand, as he took in the perfection of Dorian’s form. Seeing the mage’s frown deepen, he assured him, “Hey, don’t worry about it.” There were many, many, many ways to get off, so who was he to complain?

“I’m sorry,” Dorian whispered into the air. He shook his head. He sighed and ran his hands down the deep vee of the Bull’s waist. “I feel like I should know how to do all this better,” he told him longingly. “I wish it didn’t feel as though I were stumbling my way through blindly.” He shut his eyes and turned away slightly. “I feel like, for all that we do together, I’m the one who always ends up hurting you. And I never wanted that. I’d always thought,” he said with a sullen lift of his shoulder, “that, when it mattered — if I ever found someone who mattered — I would know how to do it right.”

The Bull frowned. He wanted to correct him. Wanted to assure him that he was fine. That he could take it. But the Keeper of Illusions bit his tongue. Because, bound beneath the man above him, with the taste of unspoken truths on both their tongues, it felt harder to lie.

Strange games indeed.

“God, how I hate confession,” the mage sighed.

The Bull frowned, not liking the hurt and shame on the other man’s fine features. With a forced laugh, the Bull said, deciding they both needed a much lighter mood, “Well, seems to me, that you were doing just fine before you decided to try to talk me into climax. Let’s get back to that and see what happens, huh?”

Dorian stifled a laugh. “Fair enough.” He gripped the Bull’s hips. “I suppose it’s fine that you’re only doing this because I asked. Even if that’s true,” he said as he teased the thin skin covering the Bull’s hipbones, “I still want to give this to you.” His hand — that only slightly shook — reached out to grasp the Bull’s cock. “Just,” he said as he leaned down, licking his lips nervously, “it’s never been like this — not quite — so you’ll have to tell me if I’m doing this right.”

The Bull moaned as he felt Dorian’s mouth slide slickly over him. “Sure feels like you know what you’re doing.” His wrists twisted in the rope’s grasp as he felt Dorian’s chuckle reverberated over his skin. Goddamn, that was good. Dorian’s tongue was a wonder, swirling and stroking, while his hand gripped and moved over his dick. He bit his lip as pleasure built inside him. He wanted to thrust faster. Or maybe to slow this all down. But, tied up and held down, it was out of his hands. It was odd and unsettling, caught by ecstasy that left him unbalanced.

He looked down and met the other man’s gaze. Hot and determined, Dorian’s eyes burned. Felt like a tactile stroke of its own. The Bull lifted his head to watch Dorian take him in his mouth, the look and feel of the act so carnal he felt himself race toward his end. The Bull gasped as Dorian scraped his nails over the inside of his thigh — something the Bull was always fond of doing to the mage — tearing his orgasm from him with a roaring cry.

For a long moment, pleasure rocked him. He felt adrift in a world of sensation. His heart thundered and his lungs burned with each breath.

He choked on a laugh as someone pounded on the wall.

So much for discretion.

He heard Dorian chuckle softly as he gave his cock one last lick before climbing up the Bull’s panting body.

“Damn, kadan,” the Bull breathed as Dorian untied him. “Just… damn.”

Dorian preened as he tucked the rope under the bed again. “Too right,” he said smugly. “Now, next time I ask you what you want, you’ll have your answer, right?”

The Bull let out a laughing yawn as Dorian moved to lie sprawled over his chest, the silken slide of the mage’s body against his sweat-soaked skin both miraculous and profane. While he’d definitely enjoyed what Dorian had done — no question about that, not while his body still felt sticky with the evidence of that — as he tucked his now free hand behind his head and stared out into the dark, he wondered if maybe, in the morning light, he would find the words to tell Dorian what it was he really wanted.

 

WANT MORE?

Read my companion Adoribull fanfic "Watch Words" for Dorian's response.

Don't forget to check out the post that started this all

"Riding The Iron Bull - Kink and Dragon Age: Inquisition"

Not to mention my Sex-Swapped Iron Bull Cosplay

 

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