Anywhere I would have followed you // closed

[aban_aqun]

Who: the Iron Bull aban_aqun and Dorian Pavus bestdressed
When: Four days after arriving
Where: their cottage
What: feelings
Warnings: feelings; will be updated as necessary



Slowly but surely, Dorian and Bull have been exploring their cottage and attempting to make it feel more like home. Dorian's spent time exploring the clearly magicked platforms and stairs above the house, and Bull-- has watched from the ground, for now. As much as Dorian assures him that it appears entirely stable and unlikely to fall out of the sky, Bull is content to simply trust the magic and not engage with it. For now.

Learning to trust magic has been an on-going process since he left Seheron. Bull likes to think he's made exceptional progress in the past decade or so.

Despite their focus on trying to settle, Bull hasn't forgotten the weight Dorian is carrying: the one that's been on his shoulders since they arrived. The one that's nothing to do with being here.

"Hey, found someone getting rid of these and thought you'd like them," he says when he finds Dorian in their bedroom. Draped across the Bull's arms are gauzy curtains that would look good draped around the bare canopy of the bed.

Comments

[aban_aqun]

Something in him responds to the shiver in Dorian's breath, to the way he jumps when he's startled. Whatever it is, Bull holds it back and he stays still, watching the mage, meeting his gaze across the fountain. Suddenly the game feels over; suddenly, Dorian is too far away. Bull doesn't move yet, still unnerved by the predatory instinct that had been so easy to find, so easy to encourage.

"Kadan," he murmurs, as if to reassure Dorian that he's-- himself.

Bull looks down at the fountain again and a faint smile tugs at his mouth.

"Saw you in the fountain... that's supposed to mean something, right?"

[bestdressed]

As ridiculous and embarrassing as it is, he'll never tire of hearing Bull coo kadan at him. He loves that damned word, loves the way it rumbles up from deep in Bull's chest, how it sounds like a heartbeat when he says it. Ka-dan. Surprisingly poetic, for Qunlat.

"Only if you're fool enough to believe in superstition, you lummox," he sniffs, but can't help a small smile in return. "It isn't even the right day." Dorian remains where he is, but there's a palpable connection stretching between them. He feels it; it isn't magical, or physical, or knowable in any way except how he feels. But somehow it seems plain to him that there is an undeniable link between himself and Bull.

It is this thought that prompts Dorian to move, walking slowly around the lip of the fountain until he can finally reach out and touch Bull, fingers skimming up his arms as he steps into him.

"I forfeit," he says softly, pressing his face into Bull's chest.

[aban_aqun]

Bull wraps Dorian in a tight embrace as he leans into his chest. "Thank you," he murmurs as he tips his head down, burying his nose in Dorian's hair. He holds him close, standing there for who knows how long. Bull could stand here all night if it means keeping Dorian close to him. He pulls back just enough to tip Dorian's chin so he can kiss him, an embrace as lingering as the last.

"Feels more like surrender," he teases, but there's something warm in his voice that suggests surrender isn't such a bad thing. Bull strokes his fingers along the line of Dorian's jaw and he kisses him again. Dorian is his tether to sanity and it feels unfair to depend on him as the moons pull at him, but-- the influence is clear. Above all other things and people in this place, Bull trusts Dorian.

He huffs a soft laugh.

"Are we getting out of here together?"

[bestdressed]

Dorian lets himself drift for a bit as Bull holds him, still feeling strangely tethered when Bull kisses him. He smiles as he asserts, "Ridiculous. I have never once surrendered in all my life." They both know that it isn't true, of course, but that is why he says it with such conviction.

The second kiss makes Dorian wish they were elsewhere; his lips come away from it swollen and slick, and his heart aches. Luckily, Bull suggests just that.

"Yes," Dorian decides, feeling such fondness as he looks up at the Bull's familiar scarred face that it's almost frightening. He trusts Bull, he does, but--Maker, it's so much. Too much. It verges on painful sometimes, how much he cares.

"Let's find the way out. You did win, and I believe I promised you something."

[aban_aqun]

"Never," he confirms with a wry smile. Even now that he's suggested leaving, even after Dorian agrees, Bull just stands there for a moment, looking at him. Everything about arriving in this place has torn at his carefully constructed sense of control. Foreign, dangerous magic and the possibility - no, the near certainty - that he is going to change somehow are among his deepest fears, and here they are, in a place throwing both at him.

But he also has Dorian. Whatever happens, whatever they encounter, he feels better just knowing that Dorian is with him. The fears that haunt him still linger, but he doesn't have to cope with them alone. Dorian has enough hope and tenacity for the both of them.

He leans down for one more kiss and he murmurs something soft and tender in Qunlat in the quiet space between them before he stands up again.

"You did promise me something," he quips, smiling again as he moves toward a path across the clearing.

[bestdressed]

It's easier to navigate now that he isn't concerned with being pursued, and actually quite fun to walk the maze together. He stays close to Bull's side, providing his presence as the night wears on. He manages to keep himself from glancing nervously up at the moons. No point to that when he only has to look at Bull to detect any changes. He seems genial enough, though Dorian doesn't exactly let himself relax. The night is still young, after all.

Apparently still feeling charged enough by their game of chase that it's difficult to keep apart for long, they stop to kiss again more than once before they reach the end, whether chastely or less so. It's the latter at the moment, tucked into a corner where the hedges are dotted with small white flowers. Dorian reaches up to drape his arms over Bull's shoulders, leaning more weight on Bull than his own feet, which barely touch the ground. Their mouths slide together slickly and Dorian hums approvingly, finds himself gripping one of Bull's horns for support.

[aban_aqun]

Bull feels better with Dorian by his side. He doesn't know if it's something to do with the weird bonding (even if it had only been temporary) or if it's simply Dorian that makes him feel better. He's willing to believe the latter - it wouldn't be the first time.

He's also not particularly disappointed with how the chase has left him feeling. He welcomes Dorian into his arms whenever they stop, and he almost forgets what they're meant to be doing as Dorian's mouth claims his, as his hand grips one of his horns. Realizing, vaguely, that Dorian must be up on the balls of his feet, Bull leans down more and pushes the mage against the hedge, finding some support there. His hands wander more than they did before, sliding over Dorian's sides and his hips, reaching further so he can feel his thighs and the curve of his ass. He growls quietly and makes himself lift his head effectively breaking the kiss.

"We're almost out," he breathes, as if it is some consolation - or at least a reason - to stop now.

[bestdressed]

He loves when the Bull is like this, eager and tactile and just on the edge of rough. He loves how his big hands roam his body, stroking and squeezing in an almost covetous sort of way that makes very clear to Dorian how much he's desired. The branches behind him dig into his back in a way that's not entirely comfortable, but is tolerable for the sake of kissing Bull, especially when he doesn't have to crane his neck so much. The low rumble of Bull's growl only makes Dorian want to press closer still, but before he can kiss him again, there's far too much distance between their mouths. Unfortunate.

"Are we?" Dorian's voice is soft between them, and reluctantly his grip falls from Bull's horn back to his neck. He smiles nonetheless. "How can you tell?"

[aban_aqun]

"I can hear people," he answers. "The air smells different that way."

He kisses Dorian again but refuses to let himself linger. "Let's get home, kadan," he murmurs as he strokes his fingers along Dorian's neck. "The bed will be more comfortable than the hedge."

More than anything, he finds himself wanting to be somewhere that feels safe and familiar. The thrill of the hunt feels like something he should be avoiding with the way he's been feeling, but Dorian-- how could he resist Dorian?