[ And how incredible it feels, having him tighten and quiver around him as he finally cracks. Damn, but it feels incredible, and Bull lets him ride it out for every last second, every moment that it's worth. Again and again, the slick noises rise with those gasps for air, until he knows that edge is going to be too much for him to take.
Stretching the line between pain and pleasure out over the length of an orgasm is fucking amazing, and well worth the ride. Having it continue on and on when you're already overworked and your nerves are shot? Less so.
And rather than watch that beautiful display turn into winces and pained hitches for breath, Bull withdraws. One hand clasps around his dick and tugs, stroking with quick, efficient jerks, until a deep moan catches in the back of his throat, and he spills hot and thick against the elf's back.
Only then does Zevran get lowered back to the sheets, boneless wreck that he is. ]
[ It's just enough of too much, dragging over the crackling, white hot core of him over and over while the singing of his nerves is still something sweet. This is when he'd try to return the favor were his wit about him, to grind back or encourage whoever hw as with to go ahead and keep going, that he can take it, that it's nothing.
That he can stand being rubbed raw- even enjoy it.
But he cannot wrap his head around anything more than the sudden withdraw and how achingly empty it leaves him- he couldn't take more, he knows that, he'd started to twitch away instead of with- but he whines all the same. Greedy. Hadn't brought bull off first. Hadn't been told to but- it's a concern.
The spurt of heat and wet along his bound arms and back is as soothing as it is demoralizing. He should've been able to hold out long enough. His mind can still circle back to that while he floats and shiver against the bed. The panted, mumbled, inarticulate Antivan is all soft apology now. ]
[ He's still slightly out of breath when he leans closer, finger smoothing back his hair, warm against his cheek. ]
You did well. Very well. Just breathe for me.
[ One more gentle stroke to his temple and those fingers move to start unraveling the knots at his back. It's slow, no jerking or unnecessary tugging, rubbing his arms as they come loose to work blood flow back to the area. Palms, knuckles, fingers too. He works him over, every inch, several minutes passing before he's satisfied and moves to stand.
The bed groans audibly as he moves towards the only dresser in the room. ]
[ It talks almost more effort than he can manage at the moment to tilt his head into Bull's hand, seeking out every moment of gentle contact and approval he can wring from this. Well. He did well. The idea that Bull could be lying doesn't occur to him in the slightest. This is the one place where his suspicions can't exist.
Zevran swallows, licks his lips and sags against the bed- drifting too much to think anything of being unbound but appreciating it intensely all the same.
Every callous, every impression of the ropes on his arms rubbed and handled gently. Like e's worth handling gently. It's- new. A little confusing. He mumbles something, he's not even certain what, when Bull leaves the bed. Give him five minutes to come down and he'll be out of his hair. ]
When Bull returns, it's with a wet cloth. He'd made quite a mess of the elf, after all. Only fair he help clean him up. The swipes were slow and deliberate, sweeping away the blood on the inside of his thigh first, though it had already stopped. Then upwards, along the curve of his shapely ass, and along his back, his good eye soft but focused. ]
Feeling alright? Got a pitcher of water, if you're thirsty.
He'd made an attempt to roll himself over that went nowhere- maybe a little more than five to come down, settle back into his skin. Scraps of him were coming back and not one of them were useful as any kind of mask- leaving the surprise at Bull's consideration, his kindness somewhat naked on his face.
He did this for his lovers, true- and he didn't think less of anyone that did not do the same for him; it simply wasn't what was done. You had Zevran, you set him aside and moved on with your day. He handled himself. ]
[ Something riled itself at the back of his brain, irrationally angry. Acting like this meant he wasn't used to it, but he'd damn sure acted like he'd been handled rough before in the past, at least consensually. Which meant whoever did hadn't stuck around afterwords. Says a lot about whoever it was, however many of them there were. Enough for there to be a precedent for it.
But he doesn't let that anger show. In fact he smirks, shaking his head and patting his arm gently. ]
You're going to need a minute. We'll worry about it then, alright?'
[ Another scrap- the edges of a mask he can't quite grasp, but enough for him to manage a tentative- apprehensive smile. Were they not done? He could, if pressed and given time to rest, do more for Bull. He wouldn't mind it- in fact he'd enjoy it.
But-
He sinks back onto the sheets, moving his arms up enough to cross them under his chin, eyes careful and still faintly adoring on Bull. Still floating enough for that to show. ]
[ Not unusual. He'd taken a lot, almost without flinching, and it was to be expected that he hadn't quite come down off of that high just yet. He wasn't going to rush him, either. As soon as he was clean the towel was tossed back onto the dresser, and Bull found himself absently stroking Zevran's hair.
What? It was hard not to. Bull was a very tactile individual, and it was good to keep that connection going a while longer. At least right now. ]
[ Zevran blinks lazily, stretching a little to feel all the new aches and twinges Bull's left him before sighing, nosing into the hand stroking his hair. It was fine and silken- he took great pains to ensure it was so. About as much as he took to be sure he was always presentable, always attractive.
It was why he'd been bought.
But such open appreciation makes it worthwhile.
Little by little scraps come back. Common, at least, returns when he reaches up to squeeze Bull's wrist. Just to touch him, now that he can. ]
[ Bull chuckles as Zevran's fingers catch against his wrist, though it doesn't deter him from continuing to tangle his finger in his hair. Seems to be doing a pretty good job of coaxing him back around, anyway. ]
Get that itch scratched, did you?
[ Because that's generally what it is. Or curiosity. Or any number of reasons that really don't have much to do with him at all. But hey. Long as everyone's having a good time. ]
[ That should be more alarming than it is. He'll come back around to that thought when he isn't so comfortably sated and such things can linger; for now everything else seems irrelevant.
That restless tension in him has been neatly and deftly unwound. Bull knows what he is about.
Zevran's thumb swipes back and forth on Bull's skin, an idle caress. ]
[ He hadn't expected his throat to be so dry, afterward. Then again he hadn't expected much of anything other than a good, hard ride. Everything else has been a lovely surprise.
Feeling a little more coordinated he shifts to rest on his side, tugging Bull's hand close enough to press a chaste kiss into his palm.
[ The corner of Bull's mouth twitched, his thumb shifting to trace the edge of Zevran's lips, before drawing away. The pitcher was still there, still cold as ice, and a clean tankard wasn't all that difficult to find amidst the various items strewn about. Organized chaos. He knew where it all was, that's what mattered.
When he returned to the bed's edge, he waited for Zevran to find a comfortable position to sit up into before handing the drink over. ]
You'll want to rest for a little bit, before you head out. Provided you don't mind the company. Didn't seem like you did.
[ Zevran smiles against the pad of Bull's thumb- something smaller and sweeter than his usual practiced smirks. Broken down like this he's at his most honest, even if he's coming back into his skin.
His pleasantly sore skin, rolling over to sit up doesn't happen without a faint groan. Maker, that was a ride. ]
I do not mind it- I simply am unaccustomed to it? [ He takes the glass and a careful sip before shrugging. ] But I do not mind it. This is...pleasant.
[ Used to them not sticking around. As he thought. But it's not a thing to pry into, not and ruin a perfectly good afterglow. ]
Kicking people out on their ass after sex isn't really my thing. Especially good sex.
[ And with a please rumble he's shifting up, stretching out on the bed and letting out a quiet, relaxed little huff of breath. Yeah. Just taking it easy for a while isn't the worst idea in the world. ]
Good is an understatement. I don't think I could stand if I tried.
[ He would in a moment or two, though. But for now leaning against Bull and sipping water without any of that frantic tension knotting up his spine or shoulders for the first time in months? He may wish it to linger a little while longer. ]
[ Not that it appears a complaint, by any means. It looks like they both got what they wanted out of the encounter, so chalk it up to a win. Good job, go team. Chuckling to himself, Bull's gaze strays to a few loose stones in the wall, letting in a little breeze that has the tapestry still clinging overhead fluttering quietly. ]
It's not always that involved. Just in case you were wondering.
[ It's a good sort of tingling numbness, a warm aching throb that works through him as he settles back into his skin. Definitively worth the hour of waiting and that coiling anticipation. As anxious as he'd been? It made everything after all the more intense. ]
Oh? I'm curious what made you chose this tack, then.
Seemed like what was needed. Couldn't tell right off downstairs, but soon as I got up here? I had a few ideas.
[ One hand lifted, waving idly. ]
That's how sex is back home. Sometimes it's this ritualistic thing, really gets bone-deep and leaves you a little lighter afterwords. Sometimes it's just an in-and-out, itch-scratching sort of deal. Depends on the situation. And the person.
Odd- when I spoke to Sten about sex he refused to answer. Then again he was a singularly focused Qunari.
[ Members of the Beresaad, it seemed, lived differently than Ben Hassrath. ]
I am not certain if I can call what we just did ritualistic- well there was bloodletting so perhaps- but I do feel...lighter. Better. Not so much an itch scratched but a weight I wasn't entirely aware of carrying carved out and tossed through the window.
They're not normally very talkative with outsiders to begin with. That's not a surprise.
[ That's right. A Sten had traveled with the Hero of Ferelden. Brought back all sorts of interesting intel from what he'd heard. But that's business. Or politics. Either way, not very good pillow talk. ]
Mmhm. That's how it can be, if you're doing it right. Taps into little nooks in your head you didn't even know about. Bondage in particular's pretty useful when you're having to juggle a lot in your head. You get to let go.
[ Bull's head turns, that eye regarding Zevran quietly. ]
[ A singularly stoic individual, Sten. Save for around kittens. And cookies. And Valor. how Jonas earned his respect, Zevran was uncertain- he never bothered asking.
Still, he sets thoughts of that particularly bloody road aside, finishes his water, and settles against Bull's side. If he had known how warm Qunari could be he'd have attempted to share Sten's Bedroll rather than Alistair's. ]
...I suppose. [ A beat, a sigh. ] I am unaccustomed to being in any one place so long. Being hunted by the Crows leaves such a tactic unwise. I am less accustomed to being known or recognized by anyone that isn't trying to kill me. Here I am known by name if nothing else- here people have come to know me and it...itched. Under the skin. Masks are easy enough to hold when you only know someone for a day or so.
[ With Zevran migrating closer, it was easy to drape an arm down, toying absently with the ends of his hair. Because he could, mostly, because the texture was pleasing and the motion equal parts soothing and affectionate. ]
Start wondering when the other shoe's going to drop, when someone's finally going to plant that knife in your back. That feeling, I know.
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Stretching the line between pain and pleasure out over the length of an orgasm is fucking amazing, and well worth the ride. Having it continue on and on when you're already overworked and your nerves are shot? Less so.
And rather than watch that beautiful display turn into winces and pained hitches for breath, Bull withdraws. One hand clasps around his dick and tugs, stroking with quick, efficient jerks, until a deep moan catches in the back of his throat, and he spills hot and thick against the elf's back.
Only then does Zevran get lowered back to the sheets, boneless wreck that he is. ]
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That he can stand being rubbed raw- even enjoy it.
But he cannot wrap his head around anything more than the sudden withdraw and how achingly empty it leaves him- he couldn't take more, he knows that, he'd started to twitch away instead of with- but he whines all the same. Greedy. Hadn't brought bull off first. Hadn't been told to but- it's a concern.
The spurt of heat and wet along his bound arms and back is as soothing as it is demoralizing. He should've been able to hold out long enough. His mind can still circle back to that while he floats and shiver against the bed. The panted, mumbled, inarticulate Antivan is all soft apology now. ]
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[ He's still slightly out of breath when he leans closer, finger smoothing back his hair, warm against his cheek. ]
You did well. Very well. Just breathe for me.
[ One more gentle stroke to his temple and those fingers move to start unraveling the knots at his back. It's slow, no jerking or unnecessary tugging, rubbing his arms as they come loose to work blood flow back to the area. Palms, knuckles, fingers too. He works him over, every inch, several minutes passing before he's satisfied and moves to stand.
The bed groans audibly as he moves towards the only dresser in the room. ]
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Zevran swallows, licks his lips and sags against the bed- drifting too much to think anything of being unbound but appreciating it intensely all the same.
Every callous, every impression of the ropes on his arms rubbed and handled gently. Like e's worth handling gently. It's- new. A little confusing. He mumbles something, he's not even certain what, when Bull leaves the bed. Give him five minutes to come down and he'll be out of his hair. ]
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When Bull returns, it's with a wet cloth. He'd made quite a mess of the elf, after all. Only fair he help clean him up. The swipes were slow and deliberate, sweeping away the blood on the inside of his thigh first, though it had already stopped. Then upwards, along the curve of his shapely ass, and along his back, his good eye soft but focused. ]
Feeling alright? Got a pitcher of water, if you're thirsty.
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He- what?
He'd made an attempt to roll himself over that went nowhere- maybe a little more than five to come down, settle back into his skin. Scraps of him were coming back and not one of them were useful as any kind of mask- leaving the surprise at Bull's consideration, his kindness somewhat naked on his face.
He did this for his lovers, true- and he didn't think less of anyone that did not do the same for him; it simply wasn't what was done. You had Zevran, you set him aside and moved on with your day. He handled himself. ]
Che cosa?
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[ Something riled itself at the back of his brain, irrationally angry. Acting like this meant he wasn't used to it, but he'd damn sure acted like he'd been handled rough before in the past, at least consensually. Which meant whoever did hadn't stuck around afterwords. Says a lot about whoever it was, however many of them there were. Enough for there to be a precedent for it.
But he doesn't let that anger show. In fact he smirks, shaking his head and patting his arm gently. ]
You're going to need a minute. We'll worry about it then, alright?'
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[ Another scrap- the edges of a mask he can't quite grasp, but enough for him to manage a tentative- apprehensive smile. Were they not done? He could, if pressed and given time to rest, do more for Bull. He wouldn't mind it- in fact he'd enjoy it.
But-
He sinks back onto the sheets, moving his arms up enough to cross them under his chin, eyes careful and still faintly adoring on Bull. Still floating enough for that to show. ]
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What? It was hard not to. Bull was a very tactile individual, and it was good to keep that connection going a while longer. At least right now. ]
Someone's feeling good, huh?
[ That smile crooks a little higher. ]
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[ Zevran blinks lazily, stretching a little to feel all the new aches and twinges Bull's left him before sighing, nosing into the hand stroking his hair. It was fine and silken- he took great pains to ensure it was so. About as much as he took to be sure he was always presentable, always attractive.
It was why he'd been bought.
But such open appreciation makes it worthwhile.
Little by little scraps come back. Common, at least, returns when he reaches up to squeeze Bull's wrist. Just to touch him, now that he can. ]
That...was marvelous.
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[ Bull chuckles as Zevran's fingers catch against his wrist, though it doesn't deter him from continuing to tangle his finger in his hair. Seems to be doing a pretty good job of coaxing him back around, anyway. ]
Get that itch scratched, did you?
[ Because that's generally what it is. Or curiosity. Or any number of reasons that really don't have much to do with him at all. But hey. Long as everyone's having a good time. ]
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[ That should be more alarming than it is. He'll come back around to that thought when he isn't so comfortably sated and such things can linger; for now everything else seems irrelevant.
That restless tension in him has been neatly and deftly unwound. Bull knows what he is about.
Zevran's thumb swipes back and forth on Bull's skin, an idle caress. ]
I feel less like an overwound spring, yes.
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Good. Feel like that drink yet?
[ If not, he's perfectly content to ease back and luxuriate in the moment. Depending on Zevran's preference, he's welcome to stay or go, as he likes.
Bull's got no problem continuing to bask for a while longer, yet. ]
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[ He hadn't expected his throat to be so dry, afterward. Then again he hadn't expected much of anything other than a good, hard ride. Everything else has been a lovely surprise.
Feeling a little more coordinated he shifts to rest on his side, tugging Bull's hand close enough to press a chaste kiss into his palm.
Not starting anything but- affectionate. ]
Thank you.
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When he returned to the bed's edge, he waited for Zevran to find a comfortable position to sit up into before handing the drink over. ]
You'll want to rest for a little bit, before you head out. Provided you don't mind the company. Didn't seem like you did.
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His pleasantly sore skin, rolling over to sit up doesn't happen without a faint groan. Maker, that was a ride. ]
I do not mind it- I simply am unaccustomed to it? [ He takes the glass and a careful sip before shrugging. ] But I do not mind it. This is...pleasant.
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Kicking people out on their ass after sex isn't really my thing. Especially good sex.
[ And with a please rumble he's shifting up, stretching out on the bed and letting out a quiet, relaxed little huff of breath. Yeah. Just taking it easy for a while isn't the worst idea in the world. ]
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[ He would in a moment or two, though. But for now leaning against Bull and sipping water without any of that frantic tension knotting up his spine or shoulders for the first time in months? He may wish it to linger a little while longer. ]
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[ Not that it appears a complaint, by any means. It looks like they both got what they wanted out of the encounter, so chalk it up to a win. Good job, go team. Chuckling to himself, Bull's gaze strays to a few loose stones in the wall, letting in a little breeze that has the tapestry still clinging overhead fluttering quietly. ]
It's not always that involved. Just in case you were wondering.
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[ It's a good sort of tingling numbness, a warm aching throb that works through him as he settles back into his skin. Definitively worth the hour of waiting and that coiling anticipation. As anxious as he'd been? It made everything after all the more intense. ]
Oh? I'm curious what made you chose this tack, then.
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[ One hand lifted, waving idly. ]
That's how sex is back home. Sometimes it's this ritualistic thing, really gets bone-deep and leaves you a little lighter afterwords. Sometimes it's just an in-and-out, itch-scratching sort of deal. Depends on the situation. And the person.
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[ Members of the Beresaad, it seemed, lived differently than Ben Hassrath. ]
I am not certain if I can call what we just did ritualistic- well there was bloodletting so perhaps- but I do feel...lighter. Better. Not so much an itch scratched but a weight I wasn't entirely aware of carrying carved out and tossed through the window.
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[ That's right. A Sten had traveled with the Hero of Ferelden. Brought back all sorts of interesting intel from what he'd heard. But that's business. Or politics. Either way, not very good pillow talk. ]
Mmhm. That's how it can be, if you're doing it right. Taps into little nooks in your head you didn't even know about. Bondage in particular's pretty useful when you're having to juggle a lot in your head. You get to let go.
[ Bull's head turns, that eye regarding Zevran quietly. ]
You looked like you could use that.
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Still, he sets thoughts of that particularly bloody road aside, finishes his water, and settles against Bull's side. If he had known how warm Qunari could be he'd have attempted to share Sten's Bedroll rather than Alistair's. ]
...I suppose. [ A beat, a sigh. ] I am unaccustomed to being in any one place so long. Being hunted by the Crows leaves such a tactic unwise. I am less accustomed to being known or recognized by anyone that isn't trying to kill me. Here I am known by name if nothing else- here people have come to know me and it...itched. Under the skin. Masks are easy enough to hold when you only know someone for a day or so.
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[ With Zevran migrating closer, it was easy to drape an arm down, toying absently with the ends of his hair. Because he could, mostly, because the texture was pleasing and the motion equal parts soothing and affectionate. ]
Start wondering when the other shoe's going to drop, when someone's finally going to plant that knife in your back. That feeling, I know.
[ Seheron. It never really left. ]
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