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A late night in early summer, the fireflies wandered outside the window in their lazy dance. Dorian was sprawled beside him, head on his arm, one leg thrown over Bull’s and half asleep. The night was pleasantly warm, not so deep in the summer yet to kick the blankets off the bed, for Dorian to spend his days complaining in front of the fan, to grumble when Bull wanted to cuddle. Warm but not warm enough to keep them off each other.
Dorian was rambling about the book he’d been reading, some kind of technical magic shit that went right over Bull’s head. He was just happy to lie there and listen to Dorian’s voice all rough and low with the late hour, watch the way Dorian’s eyes drifted closed when he paused to think, soak in the way Dorian trailed his fingers across his stomach, mapping out the runes he was describing.
There was a time when he would have scrambled away in fear at the idea of someone tracing runes near him, even the vague, inert shapes that these were. But years in the south had dulled the edges of that fear of magic. And a full year of knowing Dorian, half a year of sharing a bed with him—there was nothing he could think of that he wouldn’t trust Dorian with.
Every time he looked at Dorian, he was enchanted by him, couldn’t fathom that he’d gotten so lucky that Dorian was his boyfriend now. These last couple weeks he just kept looking at Dorian, thinking that was his boyfriend, and feeling a ridiculous grin spread across his face.
Dorian beside him in bed, Dorian letting Bull stroke a hand over his side, down his thigh, back up to curl in his hair, basking in the attention as he went on about his reading, was astounding. These days, Bull felt dizzy with how in love he was.
“Hey, Dorian,” he said, when Dorian’s eyes had slipped closed for a moment and his words had trailed off. “It’s pretty cool how you’re my boyfriend.”
“Eugh, disgusting,” Dorian said, and he turned his face into Bull’s chest, but Bull could feel him smiling.
He curled himself tighter against Bull’s side, pulled Bull’s leg in farther between his thighs. This languid closeness could go two ways; they were right on the edge of sleep, and if Bull let them stay quiet a moment, he knew Dorian would drift off soon and they could both be content with that. There was no urgency to their fucking these days, a slow and unfolding thing with the summer spread before them, Dorian done with school, giving himself a couple weeks before he started looking for a job, and both of them finally on the same page as far as what they wanted from each other. But still, he could feel the wet heat between Dorian’s thighs pressed against him, even through his boxers, and he knew it would only take a few touches to get Dorian begging to be fucked.
Dorian was always so responsive, unfurling under his touch with just a hand tugging at his hair or fingers pressed to his hipbone, a few teasing words. The thought alone had Bull’s cock twitching with interest and the decision was made.
“It’s true, though,” Bull said, and he rolled a little onto his side, so that he could look at Dorian properly, the way the moonlight spilling through the window outlined the sharp angles of his face. “Means I’ve got you in my bed every night, and I can tell you how you make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside before I pound you into the mattress.”
He let his voice slip low and gravelly at the end, and felt Dorian’s thighs squeeze involuntarily around him. Dorian quickly pulled himself together, though, and rolled his eyes.
“Is that what you’ve got in mind?” he said. “Perhaps we ought to skip to the ‘pound Dorian into the mattress’ bit. Save you the embarrassment of all this warm, fuzzy business.” He made a dramatic gagging sound to illustrate his feelings about it.
Bull chuckled, and brought his palm to the side of Dorian’s face, fingertips in his hair, thumb pressed to the corner of his lips, and watched the way Dorian first tensed and then melted into it. “You love it,” he said. “You can bitch and moan all you want, but we both know you wanna hear how pretty I think you are.”
“Well, obviously,” Dorian said. “You can extol my good looks all you like.” He pressed a hand flat against Bull’s chest, circled a thumb over a nipple, tugged until Bull let out a little grunt.
Bull traced the curl of his mustache, and then ran his fingertips over Dorian’s lips, watching the way they parted for him. He touched Dorian’s teeth, the tip of his tongue, watched the way his eyes went glassy and his breath stuttered as he held himself perfectly still, ready and pliant and open. He slid two fingers slowly into Dorian’s mouth, along his tongue, and felt Dorian’s cock pulse against his thigh.
He dragged his fingers back out, went back to tracing slowly over Dorian’s bottom lip. “Look at you,” Bull said. “So good for me, ‘course I’m in love with you.”
Bull felt a little flutter every time he got to say it, all these new words that had found their way into their relationship. They were still careful with things like ‘love,’ all of this still fresh and delicate between them, tiny growing things that needed space and time. Dorian reacted sharply each time, and this time he let out a little whine, curled his hand on Bull’s chest inward until his nails were sharp and biting, pulling him in.
He slid his hand back and grabbed a fistful of Dorian’s hair, pulled just hard enough to get a little gasp. He tilted Dorian’s head back and pressed a slow line of kisses over his jawline, down his neck, wet and open-mouthed, tongue on his skin to taste the faint sweat left by a summer day. Dorian grasped at his horn and tugged him in, hitched his leg up over Bull’s hip to grind against him all slow and needy.
“Yeah, there you go, sweetheart,” he said. “Shit, all I gotta do is tell you how pretty you are and you’re already coming apart for me.”
He curled his arm underneath Dorian around his shoulders, slid his other hand down beneath his boxers to get a handful of his ass, pull him in close. Bull was getting hard, arousal uncurling inside him as Dorian grasped at him, breathed heavily against his chest.
With a great effort, Dorian collected himself enough to look upward, to sound haughty as he said, “You know I love to hear about myself.”
Bull laughed. “Believe me, I know,” he said. He ran his fingertips ever so lightly across the very top of Dorian’s thigh to feel him shudder. “And I love the way you just melt for me. Fuck, it makes me want you bad.”
His thoughts were getting cloudy with how much he wanted Dorian just then. Other nights there were toys and restraints and all kinds of games, but tonight he wanted Dorian simple and straightforward, slow and indulgent and still close to the edge of sleep as they both were. He wanted him there in the dark, with the blankets still over their legs, only able to see each other outlined in the moonlight, in deep grey and silver, touch and sound and smell all magnified.
Dorian was grinding against him, kissing at his chest, taking his flesh between his teeth, nails sharp on the back of his neck. Still, his movements were languid too; there was a keen edge of desire, but it lacked the desperate urgency Dorian had at times.
“I want you too,” Dorian said, and he raised his head to lock eyes with Bull. His tongue pressed between his teeth, a motion that was sometimes done as an intentional flirt, but now it was unconscious and it made Bull feel as if he were melting inside.
“Shit, yeah, anything you want, sweet boy,” he said, and he felt a little as if the words were punched from inside him. He’d had these vague thoughts earlier of trying to sneak in some more mushy things about their feelings, try to get it past Dorian’s finicky self-esteem while he was distracted, but it was beyond him to figure it out anymore. The problem with getting Dorian to melt was that often these days Bull found himself melting right alongside him.
He pulled Dorian even closer, slipped his fingers between his thighs to trace over his dripping cunt. Dorian whimpered against his chest. Bull slid his fingers over his entrance, back and forth, feeling Dorian pulse and clench against him, feeling his legs start to tremble.
“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he murmured, face in Dorian’s hair, breathing in deep. His smell turned all sweet and heady when he was aroused, underpinned with the smell of his slick. Without fail, it always made Bull impossibly hard.
Dorian spread his legs further, as much as he could, and Bull reached up to circle a fingertip over his cock. Dorian let out the sweetest little gasp and Bull decided he couldn’t wait any longer.
“Hey, roll over,” he said.
“Bull…” Dorian looked up at him, licked his lips. His eyes were foggy and he looked desperate but unable to piece words together.
“Shh, sweetheart,” Bull said. He cradled Dorian’s cheek, pressed a kiss to the side of his face. “Not gonna tease, I wanna be inside you.”
Dorian let out a shaking little “oh” and rolled over onto his stomach, just as he’d been told to.
Bull hauled himself up, leaned in over him, ran a steadying hand across his back before he curled his fingers into Dorian’s hair. “There you go, good boy,” he said, hardly more than a whisper.
Dorian let out a long, low sound, muffled into the pillows.
He hooked his fingers in the waistband of Dorian’s boxers, the only piece of clothing between the two of them. He tugged them off and tossed them away to be forgotten. He took only a moment to take Dorian’s ass in both hands, knead it between his fingers and listen to Dorian’s quiet gasps as his thumbs pressed inward towards his cunt, teasing but not quite touching.
For once he wasn’t in the mood to tease much, though, and he knew that Dorian would always have less patience than him no matter what kind of mood he was in.
He straddled Dorian’s legs, leaned down over him with a forearm braced against the bed beside his head. Dorian on his hands and knees would have been an easier angle, seemed to be Dorian’s favorite position as far as Bull could figure, something about liking it from the back and how deep Bull could get that way, but it wasn’t what he wanted that night. He wanted this, Dorian flat on his belly beneath him so they could press fully together, body fully flush against body.
Bull stroked himself a couple of times, but he was so hard already it hardly made a difference. Then he pressed his fingers against Dorian’s cunt, slowly inside. Dorian was so wet, so open, he took the two fingers all the way to the base with no complaint, just a long, low moan.
He pressed a third finger in just to marvel at how easily Dorian took it, to hear the way he gasped as Bull pumped his fingers into his cunt.
“Take me so well, baby,” Bull murmured. He nuzzled his face into the crook of Dorian’s neck, knowing he liked the way his beard scratched even if he complained about it. He dragged his fingers slowly back and forth inside him, feeling the soft, wet heat, the way Dorian’s body shook with each little gasp. “My good boy. You want my cock now?”
Dorian nodded vigorously, let out a shaking, “Please.”
Bull pumped his hand over his cock, spreading Dorian’s slick over himself, before he guided it to Dorian’s entrance, rubbed the head over him. Dorian spread his legs further, canted his hips upward. He tried to grind himself against Bull’s cock, though he had little room to move.
Slowly, Bull pressed into him, in and out, just a little further each time as Dorian nearly wailed into the pillows. His body was tight and hot around Bull’s cock, slick and pliant, letting him in easily at the same time that he gripped so tight around him. Bull found himself gasping for breath, almost overwhelmed with the sensation. He’d lost track a long time ago of how many times he’d been inside Dorian, and still every time it left him reeling, almost drowning in arousal.
Finally he bottomed out, hips resting against Dorian’s ass, and he let himself pause there, lower himself down so his chest was against Dorian’s back. He never put his full weight on Dorian, but he let it go most of the way now, certainly enough so he’d feel it.
Dorian squirmed underneath him, gasping into the pillows, without the leverage to fuck himself. He reached back and managed to clamp a hand on Bull’s shoulder, nails biting into his flesh. “You said you weren’t going to tease,” he said, surprisingly put-together and insistent. He could do that sometimes, pull himself together just enough for a coherent complaint in the middle of sex, and it never failed to charm Bull.
He chuckled, and ran a hand through Dorian’s hair, gone slightly damp with sweat. “What, me?” he said. “I’d never tease you.”
“You lying bastard,” Dorian said.
Bull laughed again, and he took Dorian’s hand from his shoulder, kissed his fingertips before guiding him up to grab his horn. “Not in a teasing mood tonight,” he said. “Don’t worry.”
He made good on his promise immediately, and started to fuck into Dorian with long, slow thrusts that had Dorian moaning, tugging on his horn to haul him even closer. He pressed his fingers into Dorian’s mouth, and Dorian took them greedily, with a pleased little moan at the taste of his own slick. Even facedown and with his mouth full he was loud, gasping sharply with each thrust, the most delicious little sounds that made Bull want Dorian in his mouth. He bit down on his shoulder, licked across his skin.
Dorian reached out, fumbling with his free hand, and found Bull’s other hand. He twined their fingers together and held Bull close to himself. It made Bull feel like his heart was going to burst, and he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.
“Sweet boy,” he murmured, and his own voice came out as a quiet gasp that he wasn’t expecting.
Even underneath him and able to do little more than hold on, even letting Bull lead, Dorian was able to take him apart completely. The way he gave himself over to it so sweetly, so fully, had Bull falling into it right after him, coming undone in the way their bodies moved together, in the feeling of Dorian’s body around him. The same as falling in love with Dorian, the sex always swept over him in ways he was not expecting, taking him and unfurling him in ways he couldn’t have imagined.
He whispered praise against Dorian’s skin, into his hair, between kisses, between sucking bruises into his skin or running his tongue over his flesh. Dorian gasped and moaned, chewed on his fingers, held so tight to his hand that his knuckles were white with it.
Finally, Dorian turned his head, drawing away from Bull’s fingers. Bull half expected him to ask to change positions or make a snippy comment. Instead, all that came out was a wavering moan of Bull’s name, a string of curses, finally fading into a chant of “ ah, ah, ah ” in time with each thrust. It made Bull want to fuck him harder, but he kept up exactly as he was, soaking in Dorian’s little sounds, unwilling to change anything if it was making him do that.
He curled a hand around Dorian’s hip, tilting him up a little to fuck him deeper. He stayed deep, and hard, still not too fast, still feeling that half-lazy mood of the late summer night. It was enough that they were both sweating, that Dorian was shaking beneath him, that Bull himself was unsteady with it.
“Bull,” Dorian said, a little whimper between longer moans. “I’m so close. Your fingers—please?” His voice was wrecked, all hoarse and trembling.
“Of course,” Bull said, and he hardly sounded any better. “Yeah, of course.”
He slid his hand between Dorian’s thighs, pressed his fingers down hard and flat over Dorian’s cock and circled them, letting Dorian grind into his touch, a motion that he knew would have Dorian undone in seconds.
Dorian’s body drew taut, all locked in place besides the desperate motion of his hips, and then all at once it burst. His legs shook uncontrollably, squeezed together as he keened and writhed. His cunt squeezed tight, pulsing around Bull’s cock so hard Bull saw stars. It shuddered through Dorian for long moments, drawing out, slowly winding down.
Bull shifted slightly, removed his fingers from Dorian’s cock and Dorian let out another gasping wail as a final aftershock moved through him.
“Good, baby?” Bull asked, with a quiet, winded laugh.
Dorian squeezed his hand and nodded. “Your turn,” he said. “Inside me, please.”
“Aw, shit, well if you insist,” Bull said.
Dorian loved for Bull to finish inside him, nearly always asked for it. When Bull had asked him about it once, he’d gotten a dismissive sort of answer about liking the feel of Bull’s cock twitching inside him, with a very irritated admission tacked onto the end that he enjoyed the intimacy of it. It was rare to get those kinds of confessions out of Dorian, and Bull treasured them, always kept them in mind. It didn’t hurt that this one was something he loved too.
Again, it would have been easier to pull Dorian up onto his hands and knees, but he couldn’t bear to make Dorian let go of his hand, to break any of the contact between them. So he kept himself close as he started to fuck into Dorian again, drinking in his fucked-out moans, gone all high and rasping with exhaustion and overstimulation.
“Let me hear you,” Dorian said, the same thing Bull was always saying to him.
Bull smiled into the crook of his neck, and tried to play up his own sounds a little. He didn’t have to try too hard, moaning as he fucked into the heady heat of Dorian’s body.
“That’s it, darling,” Dorian said. These pet names were new for him, always sending a little thrill through Bull when he heard them. “Come on, amatus, cum for me.”
That was all it took, Bull’s hips stuttering, pumping fast as orgasm washed over him, throbbing as he spilled deep inside Dorian who moaned right along with him. He dug his fingers into Dorian’s hip, growling as he ground against him through the last of it, the bright waves of heat moving through him.
Too tired to keep himself up any longer, he rolled off, taking a moment to savor Dorian’s last moan as his cock slipped out, before he flopped onto his back.
Dorian remained facedown in the pillows, catching his breath, still holding tight to Bull’s hand. Bull was sticky with sweat, and wanted to get up to turn on the fan, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go of Dorian. He’d need a shower at some point, but he decided that could wait until the morning. Maybe he’d get Dorian in there with him; there was always another day ahead to spend with each other. The certainty of Dorian being there with him was new, and hard won, and he was trying to let himself get used to it the same way he had let himself get used to the rest of his life in the south.
He squeezed Dorian’s hand, and tried to convey at least a little of that in the gesture. He knew words would be needed, too, but those kinds of words were beyond him at the moment.
Finally, Dorian rolled over to face him again. “You know,” he said, “sometimes your ideas aren’t half bad.”
“That one was alright with you?” Bull asked.
“Tolerable,” Dorian said with a smirk, and then his face softened into one of the open smiles Bull was getting to see a little more often. “No, truly, that was lovely.” He leaned up and pressed a kiss to Bull’s cheek, which Bull didn’t think anyone had ever done to him before Dorian, in this new place they had come to with each other in these last few weeks.
“Good,” Bull said. Then he glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “Shit, it’s late. We really ought to sleep, huh?”
“In a moment,” Dorian said. “I’ve just thought of how to explain the theory behind the spells we were discussing.”
Bull laughed, and held him close, letting his own eye drift closed this time as he listened to Dorian talk.