Chapter Text
Bull is used to people treating him exactly like what he appears to be: a big, powerful mountain of a man, with all the trappings that come with that sort of appearance. As a hulking Qunari with a huge rack of horns, people tend to expect things of him: people tend to expect him to be brash, loud, and domineering. They expect him to simply take the things he wants, damn their politics. They expect someone rough who, in bed, will nearly break them with pleasure.
To be short, people see Bull and want him to rail them into next week.
Honestly, most of the time he's happy to play along. It certainly helped him keep up a front while he was still Ben Hassrath. People were happy to spill their deepest secrets during post-coital pillow talk, when their bodies were sated and their brains were still mush.
But occasionally he longs for something more than to simply play a role. Sometimes he wants-- needs-- something gentler. Something kinder; something softer, warmer, like hot cocoa with a splash of whiskey on a cold night. Sometimes he wants something less rough-and-tumble tooth-and-nail, and more...sweet and slow.
It's not often he gets to indulge like that. But since he's started up this thing with Dorian, he's found he's gotten more and more opportunities for that sort of novelty.
The Iron Bull is incomparably fond of Dorian. The mage flirts in his own sort of fluency, coy quips and sharp barbs alike strung out with grammatical and structural rules that would seem incomprehensible to all but those in practice.
Luckily, Bull is fluent.
Bull likes the way Dorian speaks, because however gilded his words, there's always a lining to his tone that alludes at the power that sings through his blood in so many ways. Bull has witnessed firsthand just what Dorian is capable of. Hell, Bull has seen Dorian do things that he would have acknowledged as horrors at one point in his life, though now he's coming to see them as an artistry all their own. The mage often scares the shit out of Bull without meaning to, with his talk of the Fade and its demons and their constant calls.
Yet with Bull, Dorian is...gentle. He treats Bull like a treasure-filled temple he wants to explore in great depth. He makes it known, over and over again, that Bull is unique and desirable, whether he's heaving an axe in battle or darning his socks quietly by the fire. Dorian treats Bull like he sn't just something to be consumed; but something to savor.
Dorian is heat and tender hands gripping him in the night; he's soft lips and sharp, humor-tinted words murmured in Bull's ear in the morning. He's bravado and bravery, compassion and an exemplary provider of what Bull needs most, when he needs it.
Dorian is honeyed tea with a squeeze of lemon, and Bull wants to drink him up to the last drop.