Chapter 2. This Bottle of Champagne Has A Smutty Mirror In It! - Dedicated to ...Ultrachicory, may The Angst Imp always have rose colored cheeks.
Iron Bull adjusted the horn wrap keeping his sparkling, formal eye patch in place. Again.
He scowled at his immense reflection; even this mirror was not wide enough to display his whole image from where he stood. Their room was spacious enough, but Bull still stood hands taller than the human-made furniture. That was not counting the height of his horns. Sometimes he wished he was more human looking, less Qunari. Grey, cold, horned demon, he had heard those insults and so many more. Worse still were the nervous reactions and prejudice. Even children of his own race were frightened of him, his sheer size intimidated. Princes, Emperors and Men alike just saw his prowess with any melee weapon. They saw him as a weapon that could be used and then discarded after his usefulness was over. A soulless killing machine. Women were better and sometimes worse. They wanted his other weapon, but never to keep. Just an illicit night of screaming passion was all they wanted from him. Not that there was really anything wrong with that, but after a while it lacked the appeal it had once held for him.
Other times he was fiercely proud of his heritage. He was the epitome of Qunari breeding, generation of Tamassrans had guided every one of his traits into being. He was immensely strong, his voice carried across battlefields and bedrooms alike. Not to mention the stamina that fueled him to keep going long after others has fallen to the ground in exhaustion. He had earned every mark on his giant body with blood, sweat, and tears. His eye was once again cast at the silvered surface, this time the image that was reflected back was somehow more handsome then it had been just seconds before. His scars cast long shadows on his immense and impressive physique. The light in the loft was still dim despite innumerable candles that burned on every surface. Bull found himself grateful of the warm, appealing glow they cast over his typically dull, gray Qunari skin. The pleated waist band on the red billowing pants he wore flattered his hulking frame. Which, if he was choosing to be honest with himself, was now slightly more barrel-shaped around the middle then when he'd first met Dorian.
He had spent hours that morning under the talented hands of the Inquisitor. She had expertly shaped and buffed his horns till they nearly gleamed, as if she was a Tamassran all along. Then with the addition of actual, authentic horn oil from Par Volen they actually did shine. His horns were gouged from enemy weapons, and seared from magical attacks, but with her help most of them were smoothed out. His buxom friend also had to carefully fill in the cracks and nicks with a mixture of hoof glue and actual shavings of his own horn from the earlier filing. The Inquisitor had patiently done her very best to make him look good for his special evening. However the last few years, without the proper oils and care, still left their mark.
"Marks may be more accurate." He whispered to the reflection as he ran his hands along the angry red scar that stretched from just below his left nipple down across his well-toned midsection, over his curved love handles and around the edge of his hip. Touching it made him smile smugly as he remembered the Ataashi who gave it to him. He had done his best to avoid the dragon's massive maw only to be slashed at by the beast's claws. He could have avoided the wound but the party had been taken unaware and was ill prepared. He had needed to keep the creature's attention directed on him and not on those far less robust party members. Two mages, one rogue, and himself. Yet they had still brought the winged monster down. That fight had been glorious; he turned slightly to the side and ran his hand over the ivory remnant of that enormous creature.
"That's right, who killed you? The Iron Fucking Bull that's who. Who earned every scar on his magnificent body? The Iron Fucking Bull! Who is going to get himself some hot cocoa Tevinter ass tonight? THE IRON FUCKING BULL!" He chanted, getting louder with each passing chorus. He grinned at himself one more time before he turned around and began rummaging in the storage chest across the room for a decorative piece of cloth to wrap the mirror in, Dorian always stashed leftover cloth in there after he made a new outfit. There had to be something nice that would work.
He had ordered the tall standing mirror that loomed over his own impressive height, well in advance for what Dorian said was the birthday of their romance. There was some disagreement between the two about the exact day the year prior that it began. Dorian insisted that it was when they first drunkenly groped each other until they'd both come, hot and sticky, entangled in each other's limbs and breathing hard in the dark attic of the tavern. Thankfully the spirit boy, who normally resided there, was out in the field with the Inquisitor. Bull surprised himself in thinking that it was over a week after that, the day when Dorian had returned to Bull's loft, in the clear light of day and completely sober. The 'under the cover of darkness' escapades that were between the first and the later hardly counted as a genuine relationship in his eye. Not any more, with Dorian that would have never been enough. The man was delectable, wicked and perfect for him in every way. There was really only one thing missing, but tonight would take care of that.
At that moment he heard the clatter of the battlement door on the floor below which served as both a lounging area for them and as the office for the Charger's Captain. It was nearly identical to Commander Cullen's apartment, the biggest difference was it happened to be a corner tower. The loft area covered the entire footage of the second level except the square where the ladder came up through, unlike Cullen's half loft. The hole had to be enlarged to accommodate Bull, but it worked out nicely, and with Dorian's sense of décor it soon felt like a home. Sure there was some traffic through the office area as it was on the ramparts, but that was only at specific and predictable times during the guards' rounds. This not being one of those times since it was after hours for the Keep and the guards' schedule was more about staying put than marching around. Bull knew the sound of the door latching was most likely Dorian as he returned home from his duties in the library, the shuffle of his feet and yawn confirmed it. Even an emergency messenger would knock or, well, pound. No one in the entire Keep dared to enter without permission after one unfortunate and untimely runner was pitched into a manure heap off the lofty height of the fortification's balustrade.
"Manure it will be, if I mess this up." Bull whispered to himself as he panicked, casting his eye around the room searching for a scrap of cloth big enough to hide the mirror temporarily. Over the top of their colossal four-post canopy bed, he spotted a fabric that might work. If Varric was to be trusted, that same bed was once owned by a very lusty emperor from Rivain. 'Orgy-size' he called it. Before the Dwarf had found it Bull had slept on the floor while his love snoozed on the small cot tucked against the cold stone wall. That made sex with the more delicately limbed man all the more inventive and hard. The bruises they both sported on hands, knees and hind ends could attest to that. So when the smarmy salesman from up north first contacted Varric, the sharp witted dwarf knew exactly who to offer the 'historical' item to. Iron Bull had gladly paid the sum master Tethras indicated and a few months later it arrived at the gates of Skyhold. It reassembled easily. The only real problem was the moth eaten fabric, which thrilled his suave, shopping crazed bedmate. He silently hoped Dorian would not notice its misappropriation as he yanked the diaphanous blue fabric off the bed's rails. With it in hand Bull rushed over to cover the tall mirror. With a whisper it fell in soft obscuring waves over the decorative wooden frame. He was just straightening how it hung as Dorian's dark pompadour popped up above the edge of the loft ladder.
…
Dorian had just cleared the rungs as he was swept up into Iron Bull's arms and carried over to a large draped object directly across from the bed. He had no idea what such a large item could be, however the cover looked suspiciously like the canopy off the bed. Dorian was so intent on scowling at the fabric it took him a moment to realize how clean and warmly glowing their shared bedroom had become. The wooden floor gleamed with polish. The spider webs had been swept away, evicting the eight legged menaces, and the bed was made completely, sans the drape. Those feats alone pleased Dorian, sending a smoldering warmth for the big, grey male to wrap around his fluttering heart.
As Iron Bull set him down in front of the tall, swathed shape he glanced at the Qunari who was himself startlingly spotless and dressed up in his finest cloths. Usually that outfit was reserved for official Skyhold work with visiting dignitaries. Iron Bull did indeed cut a striking appearance in the soft red fabric, as Dorian knew he would. After all, the mage had nearly made the castle seamstress crazy with his presence during its construction. He had a suspicion that the head seamstress has moved his order to the top of the queue just to be rid of his presence, all the sooner. It had been more than worth it to see Bull in this outfit though.
"Bull this looks suspiciously like chapter fourteen of Varric's smutty tale, are we also to reenact the scene where the knight-captain Aveline hides her lover Donnic in the shadowy corner of the woman's barracks next to her bed as she is ravished all too willingly by her Commander? Because I can tell you he would have had to be tranquil not to have tented the covering even a little. Completely giving up the game all too soon. I can also say no matter how shadowy that corner was next her while she was being despoiled would hide his illustrious ten inch member. And that is just the length of it!" Dorian scoffed tilting his head all the way back to watch the smile unfold on Bull's face as the barb turned into a complete snow-job.
Iron Bull laughed a rich throaty sound, which set his whole chest heaving. "You joke now, but you know you would enjoy playing knight-captain to my Commander." He smiled down at Dorian as he first claimed the human's hand, and then brought it up in a wide arch to kiss the back of it. He then guided it down and forward, placing the palm flat against the cloth covered mirror. Dorian's face blossomed into a decedent smile as Bull took a few steps backwards before he sat down on the foot of their bed.
"Happy Birthday of our relationship, your gift is below the cover." Bull said, awash with excitement.
"I think the word you're looking for anniversary. Bull" Dorian quipped over his shoulder as he bunched the silky drape in his hand and yanked it away.
The candles wavered in the silence; the elaborately draped tent-like fabric used as décor on the ceiling billowed slightly as a cold breeze hissed between the crack above the wooden shudders and below the stone peaked window frame. The tiny flames of the waxen edifices flicked brightly once again. Iron Bull's deceptively delicate Orlesian masks from his time stationed in Val Royeaux stared down at him from the stony walls. The flowers, feathers and scented bobbles Dorian adorned the many shelves with quivered as if they too could barely endure the tension. The candles flickered a third time in the baited stillness before Iron Bull could not withstand the wait.
"You like it, right? Because this silence is a bit unnerving." Bull asked as he gripped his own knee almost painfully tight. Never before had Bull found himself so afraid of rejection.
"Bull I simply do not have the words to say how much I like it. It is nearly the same size and clarity as the one I left behind in Minrathous. It… it sings to me." Dorian whispered warmly, Iron Bull was reassured by the sound of his lover's reply, so much so the exact words mattered little.
That he had selected a gift far beyond the scope of what his beloved was expecting released the tension knotting in his shoulders almost all at once leaving him more relaxed than he had been all day. First he fretted over the delivery and installment. After that he worried about arranging the loft to please Dorian's high standard. Then the details, like flowers and enticing incense tied his stomach back on itself. He missed dinner entirely, leaving his innards to complain loudly while he muttered derogatorily about his appearance. The waiting had been the worst but all that time, effort and gold had been worth it. Just to see the northern mage smile like that, he would have crossed oceans.
"And what does it sing Kadan?" Bull asked leisurely, as he leaned back. His weight on his splayed hands behind him as the last of the tension over the big reveal evaporated.
Dorian spun around, the silky cerulean blue cloth still in his hand dramatically draped around him. It then flared slightly as he stopped abruptly, facing the bed and Iron Bull. "Why a dirty limerick of course!"
The brazen Tevinter swept forward and began humming, starting low but gaining in volume with every chord. His shoulders rolled suggestively in time with the purred melody. Dorian slowly swung his neck and head in a wide ark and on the second pass he allowed his body to follow the momentum into a swirl of blue silk. The thin chiffon acted as an overly large dancing cape. He swooped and dipped it around his body over and over, in well-practiced movements. He shimmied about the room rotating his hips seductively.
He never seemed to stop but Iron Bull's sharp gaze noticed small differences in how his lover was adorned, losing armor, adding jewelry and other ornaments as he spun around the room sensually. The incense smoke swirled around his dusky beckoning fingers. His hauntingly beautiful melody followed each plunge of his hips and sweep of his arms. The metal jewelry Dorian added to his costume chimed against itself, adding a high note not entirely in sync with the tune. With each movement and deepening detail Bull was easily falling under this erotic spell. The gems on them caught and scattered the lights of the candles, every so often adding just that final touch of majesty. Bull knew in that moment his very soul belonged to the Tevinter before him, despite their origins, despite the blood and words exchanged. He was his in every way, willingly and joyfully.
The seductive mage posed dramatically in front of Bull, his back arched, arms spread wide. The blue fabric draped behind him in a crescent from hand to hand. He smirked, hooded his eyes and let Bull feel the hunger that raged inside. Dorian's eyes traveled down over his lover's body, the flicking flames dashed light across his impressive muscles. Iron Bull's large erection visibly strained against the confines of the red fabric. Seeing his obvious interest, the Qunari ran just his fingertips along the hard ridge on the underside of his cock. He simply stole the Altus' breath in a simple, self-gratifying gesture. It nearly threw the drama of the moment off, despite the sexual tension that ran through every nerve ending in his body, Dorian kept the melody steady. With delightfully naughty intentions he punishingly increased the tempo of the highly sexual movements. The Tevinter's toned midriff was highlighted by the candles' flames as he undulated his hips forward again and again. His breath became faster. His cheeks took on a red tint as he exerted himself, continuing his highly evocative dance.
Bull's eye roved his body taking in each detail as his own pulse sped. Several of the flowers Bull had earlier made a bouquet of decorated the dark, lustrous human's hair; one of his blue and green feathered masks was strapped around the side of the mage's head. Gold glitzed brightly at his neck and hands, glimmering and swinging with every movement. The top of Dorian's gilded, sumptuous robe was undone to the waist and its long arms somehow knotted into a bow that rested atop his pert perfect ass. It left his chest bare for Bull to devour with his gaze. The opulent edging on the swirling fabric nearly matched his heavy robe as it shimmered around him. The light leather armor that he wore around his chest and mid-drift was loosened and it hung not quite above his hipbones. It was likely only held in place by the knotted sleeves of his robe. Bull didn't care, Dorian looked amazing and he could feel himself become more aroused by the moment.
Dorian's hips rose and dropped as he swung them in time with the tune, he hummed loudly into the suddenly warm air. His arms glided through the air, tracing arcane runes and mystic symbols between them. They drew Bull forward, his hands gripped his knees to hold himself down. He wanted to let his lover to continue, to have the dark skinned man come to him, hot and ready. Bull visibly trembled with the sensual energy that the smaller man expertly created in their bedroom loft.
Dorian could barely contain himself but was determined to make it through the entire stanza. The song was a melody of passion and the dance was carefully designed to be as erotic to the dancer as it was to the audience. The song was well known to the wealthy of Minrathous having been designed by an Antivan courtesan of renowned talent. She performed it publicly for her current lover, the Imperial Archon. The court was scandalized and very intrigued. She then made a fortune teaching it to the empire's elite courtesans and a handful of carefully vetted nobles. It became the thing one must do to titillate their jaded courtly lovers. The Madam did not just allow anyone to learn personally from her, money, nor titles moved her, and she judged the applicants herself. Beauty or age did not sway her judgment, grace and wit were the prerequisite she demanded. There were very few who met her standards. Dorian had been one of those few, even with his preference for men he found himself deeply aroused by watching her and her male assistant demonstrate the steps over and over again. In the end her assistant Magnus had come to him after every session to see to his needs. The memory of a skilled mouth around his member, made him moan as it throbbed and rubbed against the suddenly confining garments about his hips.
Dorian didn't know how much longer he could go without Bull's touch, he had forgotten how powerful this dance was. Seeing his lover quivering on the edge of their bed was an addictive sight, one the Altus would never forget. Desire tightened his balls and his cock felt near to bursting. At last the limerick he moved and gyrated to was finally ending. Its last line sung rather than hummed. "I need you now." His breath coming fast and his skin glistening. Dorian pulled the cerulean cloth about him and prepared to pull off one, last dramatic swirl as the ending note of the song still hung on his lips.
