Katoh. The word was on the tip of her tongue, but Rosalie was trying with every fibre of her being not to say it.

Today had been a bad day. Today she'd returned to Skyhold after her 'triumph' at Adamant. The word felt a bit hollow after the time she'd spent holding Varric and listening to him tell stories about his fallen friend. After that, she'd personally executed Corypheus' agent, Lord Erimond. A necessary response, she felt, but not one she took any pleasure in carrying out.

The Iron Bull had found her not long after she'd retreated to her quarters, and when she'd found no words to express what she was feeling, he'd offered to tie her up and take control for a few hours.

Red ropes were biting into her skin now. They formed a harness around her bare breasts and bound her arms together above her head. Her back was flat against the cold stone wall and she was… not quite suspended, but forced to balance on the tips of her toes. She had started with her feet flat, but an earlier orgasm had made her knees buckle, which in turn had caused the counterweight at the other end of the rope to tighten its hold on her. Only once that sensation had passed did she realize she would be forced to stay on her toes until Bull released her. Her calves and thighs were quivering from the effort.

"Just a little longer," Bull promised, his nails digging into the sensitive skin of her stomach as he raked them downward, then dipped his hand lower to cup her sex.

"I… can't," she sobbed, though she knew the plea wouldn't make him ease up. Only one word could put an end to the torture, after all.

Doubtless the predicament she was in and the tears streaming down her cheeks would have looked appalling to anyone but the two of them. The various hand-prints and pinch-marks marring her body would also have been cause for concern to anyone who didn't understand. But they helped. They were part of the release that she needed, and Bull understood that. Perhaps he was the only one who did.

He used his free hand to tilt her head up so that their eyes met. There was sympathy there, not malice. He wasn't trying to break her, he was with her, trying his best to get her through this. He knew that she needed to prove to herself that she could endure. He believed that she was strong enough, which in turn made her believe it as well.

Rosalie gritted her teeth and grunted in frustration as she redoubled her efforts, just as Bull slipped a sizeable finger inside her and began to circle his thumb around her nub. Everything ached, even the parts of her that most adored his touch. She was unsure any amount of attention from his fingers could distract her from the pain, but Bull endeavoured to prove her wrong.

She screamed as she came, too far gone by this point to care if it brought someone running. The force of the orgasm sent violent shudders rippling through her body, made her face tingle and her eyes roll back in her head. It was the kind of bliss only someone who knew her body better than she did herself could have created. The intensity of it brought her to the very edge of consciousness until her vision began to spot.

"Stay with me, Kadan," Bull urged, a bit of concern edging into his tone as he no doubt became aware of how close Rosalie was to fainting.

As Bull had taught her to, she focused on breathing deeply while the pleasure rippled through her, gradually beginning to ebb. The world was still hazy by the time he scooped her up in his arms and unhitched the rope so that he could carry her to the bed and lie down with her. The relief of not having to support her own weight anymore was nearly as euphoric as the orgasm itself.

It wasn't clear to her why she started to cry again as he untied her. Perhaps these were all the emotions she'd had to hold at bay while leading the Inquisition to battle in the Western Approach, not to mention while sending the Champion of Kirkwall into certain death. Or perhaps it was the knowledge that soon this session would be at an end, and she'd need to leave this room again as the leader half of Thedas was looking to.

Whatever the reason, Bull didn't ask. He held her close and just let her cry, all the while stroking a hand through her hair and gently shushing her. This was what Rosalie needed so that she could cope; it wasn't all that different to Bull's need to be hit with a stick and worked into a rage over what they had been through in the Fade. Her trust in him made it possible, and she knew he wouldn't leave her side until she was herself again.

She cried until her body had nothing left to give, then slipped away into deep slumber. It was probably the first decent sleep she'd had since their journey into the Fade.

When she woke, Bull would massage whatever still ached and make sure that she had enough to eat and drink. They would talk, as they always did, about the things they'd done, what Rosalie had liked and not liked, what had frightened her, what had challenged her, what had pushed her too far. She'd be herself again, and they would be happy in each other's company.

But for now, she would rest. All thanks to him.