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If Dorian was still awake and paying close enough attention, he could hear the guard change signalling it was four in the morning. Normally, it meant it was time he stopped reading and got some sleep, but on nights like this it felt a little like being punched in the gut.
He had stopped reading hours ago, sparked by a headache and the realisation he had been mostly unproductive all day. That had led to a ceaseless voice in his head telling him he needed to be better, for the Inquisition, and a consuming anxiousness that made him want to curl up in the corner of the room.
As far as he knew, no one else was awake, but the silence was making him unjustifiably fretful, and despite his best efforts he was too restless to sleep.
He sat up, shifting so his back was to the wall, and buried his face in his hands, inhaling deeply while he tried to control his slightly fanatic breathing.
He could go to the library, but while he normally found it comforting, right now the larger room would only make the quiet more apparent and his thoughts too loud. Even reading to distract himself wasn’t an option, as he was too tired to focus properly and he’d end up just tapping the edge of the page agitatedly as a way of expelling some of his nervous energy without ever actually reading anything.
There were various members of the Inquisition he considered his friends, but he had no valid excuse for why he was waking them in the early hours of the morning, and none he felt comfortable enough with to tell them the truth. He was trying so hard to be accepted by these people, he couldn’t have any of them knowing that he couldn’t handle the pressure he was under.
Inexplicably, he found his thoughts turning to Iron Bull. At least with Bull he would have a good excuse for why he’d turn up in Bull’s quarters in the early hours of the morning.
He and Bull had slept together a half dozen times. It was barely enough to be called anything; Certainly not enough for Dorian to justify crossing Skyhold in the middle of the night and waking him to demand attention because he was out of alcohol and didn’t have another way of dealing with the unhelpful thoughts and the tightness in his chest and throat. It meant he could add guilt to the whirlpool of emotions he was failing to keep under control when he climbed to his feet and pulled on his boots. He made only a rudimentary effort to fix his hair and didn’t even bother to change out of the loose shirt and trousers he normally slept in.
He crossed Skyhold quickly, arms wrapped around himself as a futile protection against the cold. He ducked his head as he passed a guard, knowing it wouldn’t hide his identity at all, but making even fleeting eye contact with a stranger, particularly one who likely mistrusted him, seemed overwhelming. He felt the man’s eyes boring into his back after he passed and he couldn’t help but hunch into himself a little more, adopting a posture that would have brought shame to his family, but when he glanced back to check he found the guard had already disappeared around a corner.
Instead of relief, his paranoia only made Dorian feel more foolish.
He hesitated outside of Bull’s door, unsure if he was trying to summon the courage to enter, or to convince himself to let Bull sleep and return to his own rooms. Eventually it was the sound of a guard approaching some way along the wall that forced him to act.
“Bull?” Dorian knocked, but pushed the door open slightly without waiting for an answer, having found from experience that Bull wasn’t lying when he said it was always unlocked. The room was dark, the only light coming from the hole in the corner of the roof. It was just enough to make out the outline of Bull heaving himself into a sitting position.
“Can’t get enough of me, ‘Vint? Resorting to coming back for more in the middle of the night?” Dorian could picture Bull’s grin.
Dorian still felt like he might be sick, or more embarrassingly like he might cry, but there was a certain undeniable comfort, not only from no longer being alone, but from being in Bull’s company in particular. Bull, despite what Dorian might have expected, seemed to radiate calm.
Dorian forced himself to smirk as he crossed the room, climbing into Bull’s lap and kissing him firmly, aware his heated kisses were bordering on being described as frantic.
Sex really wasn’t want he wanted right now, but if it was the trade off for having Bull’s arms round him and a body pressed against his as he tried to sleep afterwards, it was one he was willing to make.
Bull, though, apparently had other ideas. He broke off the kiss and pulled back, hands resting on Dorian’s shoulders and looked him over intently.
“You aren’t looking so good, big guy,” Bull said, genuine concern colouring his voice. Somehow that made Dorian feel worse; selfish, to worry Bull about his inability to cope with his inadequacies when he knew the Qunari had more than enough to worry about already. Bull had made it very clear he wanted to fuck Dorian, and when Dorian was being honest he had certainly enjoyed providing Bull with the opportunity, but it seemed dishonest to sleep with Bull and to then take advantage of Bull’s self imposed obligation to help people by showing up like this.
“I’m fine,” Dorian said too quickly. Bull didn’t say anything, just kept looking at him, thumb rubbing soothingly back and forth over his collarbone. “I’m just feeling a little out of sorts,” Dorian admitted without further prompting, thought it felt like an admission of weakness. “I’d rather not be alone.”
Bull kissed Dorian, but it was a more chaste affaire than the kiss Dorian had initiated. When he had Dorian at arms length again he sighed, shaking his head and muttered something that sounded very like “damned ‘Vint” and Dorian had to resist the urge to curl in on himself.
Selfish, selfish, selfish. Bull didn’t want to deal with Dorian’s insecurities and Dorian shouldn’t have come here and forced him too.
“You don’t need to have sex with me if you don’t want to,” Bull said gently, as though afraid he might alarm Dorian.
“Oh,” Dorian said, rather ineloquently.
“What do you need?” Bull asked, hands solid and comforting on Dorian’s hips.
Dorian’s mouth felt dry all of a sudden and he found he didn’t have an answer. He hadn’t expected to be asked for one. He had expected a quick, but pleasant fuck and then to try and ground himself while the Bull slept, with one heavy arm around him if he was fortunate.
Bull, however, was painfully patient, waiting quietly for Dorian to sort out his scrambled thoughts and put them into words.
“Could you tie me up?” He asked, voice steadier than he had hoped; he was used to having to hide his emotions. Bull frowned a little at the request and Dorian hurried to explain himself. “When we did that before it felt good, grounding. I need that.”
It came out a little too fast and a tad breathless, but was still far better than it might have been.
Bull stood up slowly, giving Dorian time to climb off his lap. With one hand on Dorian’s lower back he encouraged Dorian into his bed to settle near the headboard. Dorian sat cross legged, resisting the urge to hug his knees to his chest.
Bull crossed the room and rummaged in a drawer, returning quickly so as to leave Dorian alone for the shortest time possible.
It wasn’t the rope he had used on Dorian the times they had done this before; that had been thick and rough and had left the most glorious bruises and rope burns that Dorian had traced through his sleeves for days after. This time Bull presented him with a length of dark silk, wordlessly asking for Dorian’s approval. Dorian nodded and Bull settled on the bed, drawing Dorian back close to him.
He helped pull Dorian’s shirt off over his head but left his trousers in place. Very carefully, he started to bind Dorian’s hands behind him. It wasn’t the same unforgiving position as Bull had contorted his arms into previously but one that, while keeping his hands tight together and secure behind him, gave him enough movement to prevent his shoulders from getting too sore.
Bull rubbed at Dorian’s shoulders as Dorian tugged at the bindings, testing their give. He let out an involuntary satisfied sigh of relief to find them secure.
“Good?” Bull asked, hands still running over Dorian’s bare skin, comforting where Bull’s touches were normally arousing.
Dorian nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He felt as though Bull had somehow managed to lift the weight from his shoulders with something as simple as a length of silk and some well-placed knots.
Bull laid back down, helping Dorian into a comfortable position against him. Dorian lay on his side, one leg thrown over one of Bull’s and his head resting on the edge of Bull’s chest. It wasn’t the most comfortable he had ever been; it didn’t completely elevate the strain on his shoulders, he knew they would be stiff in the morning, and Bull’s chest was far from as soft as the pillows he preferred, but considering the relief brought from having a body against his and the comfort of the bindings, there was nothing he wanted to change about it.
One of Bull’s arms wrapped under Dorian and back around to settle in his hair, combing soothingly through the strands, while the other was flung across Bull’s body to rest on Dorian’s side, rubbing up and down firmly to avoid being ticklish.
They were silent for a while but Bull’s breath didn’t change, so Dorian assumed he was still awake, and Dorian still didn’t feel calm enough that sleep seemed like a realistic goal.
There was still lingering anxiety clawing at the edge of his mind and a nasty voice in his head berating him for inconveniencing Bull in the first place.
“I’m sorry I woke you,” he said at last, unable to not say something. “I’ll suck you off in the morning.”
Bull sighed, sounding a little disappointed and Dorian almost flinched in response. Bull scratched lightly at Dorian’s scalp until he settled again.
“This isn’t something you need to pay me back for, Dorian. I know you would do the same for me or anyone else and wouldn’t consider anyone in your debt.”
Dorian burrowed deeper into Bull’s arms as best he could with his own tied behind him. He didn’t tell Bull that he didn’t have as much faith in his own generosity as Bull seemed to.
“Is it helping?” Bull asked, scratching Dorian behind his ear in a way that, despite making Dorian feel a little like a spooked puppy, felt sinfully nice.
Dorian paused to consider his answer. He still felt slightly panicky, but the urge to vomit had faded, as had the tightness in his chest and throat. The bindings and Bull’s immense, protective bulk made him feel safe and oddly weightless in a way he didn’t know how to put into words. There was nothing expected of him here that he couldn’t provide.
“Yes.” He wanted to say how much it meant to him that Bull cared enough to comfort him when Dorian could count on the fingers of one hand how many people in his life who had inconvenienced themselves to help him without promise of a returned favour, even more pathetic considering one of them was dead and another was his father, but it seemed like too much to put on Bull when Bull had offered so much already. “Thank you,” he said instead, in a rare moment of sincerity.
He couldn’t tell for certain in the dim light but he though Bull smiled in response.
“Do you feel like this often?” Bull asked, quietly enough to allow Dorian to pretend not to hear him.
“It comes in waves. I have months where I’m almost completely fine and then periods where everything is just a little too much and I feel unable to cope with even small amounts of stress,” he admitted.
“You can always come here for this again if you need to,” Bull said instead of digging into the parts of the story Dorian left untold. “You are allowed to want more than sex, Dorian. We’re friends, we should look out for each other.”
Dorian couldn’t think of a single thing to say to that.
Gracefully, Bull didn’t force him to come up with one. “Go to sleep, ‘Vint; everything’s harder to deal with when you’re tired.”
Dorian shifted slightly against Bull, closing his eyes. He listened carefully to the soft noises made by Bull as a reminder that for once he wasn’t sleeping alone. He allowed the noise of Bull’s steady breathing and slow heartbeat under his head to drown out the remaining remnants of his traitorous thoughts and eventually lull him to sleep.