For the prompt: Bull/Dorian open relationship–who else they see, under what conditions, how each of them feels about it, how they communicate about it.
From @saterema for @hobbitkaiju
- - -
When it began, Dorian was content to speak as little of the details of their liaisons as possible. That was familiar, natural even, and seemingly suited The Iron Bull as well. Yet the agreement did not feel the same as ones he had made before, with other men. It was not an unspoken agreement to secrecy so much as that words had not needed to be exchanged. Dorian had been under no illusion that their relationship was anything beyond physical, if he could even have called it a relationship then.
The illicit encounters of his past had always begun with the knowledge that romantic entanglement was forbidden, and often assumed unwanted. But Bull had been different, hadn’t he? Too honest for a Ben-Hassrath, too easy to laugh for a Qunari, too giving for a man who would have only ever wanted sex. Yet the invitation for romantic involvement was as absent as any upfront denial of it; a small detail, but an important one.
That first night still seemed like a dream to him, even now, a night of bliss that stretched for hours into the dawn. He’d never had that luxury before, never had the time to be touched, to be explored, to be worshiped even. It was more than he would have dared expect, and yet Bull had given it to him willingly, happily. And so there was no sinking feeling in his stomach when he left before dawn, puzzling him as much as it excited him. And if a twinge affection rose in his chest the next evening when Bull greeted Dorian jovially at dinner, well… who could blame him?
It had been easy to tamp that affection down though, in the weeks after, when duty called the Altus to Crestwood with the Inquisitor, his knowledge of necromancy a key asset in their countless fights with the undead that haunted the lake. He’d stayed focused, for the most part, on his duty - on being of use. In fact, they’d made quick work of an otherwise abysmal mission.
When all was said and done, lake drained and mayor fled, Dorian had only the return trip to occupy his mind, and so his thoughts wandered. Near a week’s trip on horseback left to sit and wonder if Bull was thinking about him. A week to wonder how many others had found their way into the bed he sought in the Fade as he slept. He dismissed it, as he dismissed most things he desired in earnest. He decided he was not jealous, because to be jealous, Bull would have had to have been his.
- - -
The Iron Bull knew long before they came riding through the main gates of Skyhold that the Inquisitor and her entourage had returned. His intel had had visual on them for two days. He’d missed Dorian. It was easy to admit, and he thought little of it; the mage had been a fantastic lay. He’d enjoyed teasing him, flirting with him in public, and fluffing the Altus’s ego, and looked forward to much of the same.
So on the night before they returned it didn’t surprise Bull that he’d passed over Flissa for the blonde-headed young recruit who Bull had caught staring at him on more than one occasion. It wasn’t a substitute, no, not really. It was more a prelude, less serious and more frivolous, so he would not have to think on why he wanted that, before he saw Dorian again. And the boy was of the same mindset, seeking only pleasure and a new experience. The blonde had been all hands and eager grinding, mismatched thrusts and excited laughs between ruts.
It had been fun, but they had been novelties to each other. Bull had no problem playing the exotic Qunari lover, and the boy had clearly come for that, in more ways than one. But when the boy left an hour later, Bull remained strangely unsatisfied even as he laid sticky and spent in mussed sheets. He remembered how Dorian had lingered, how the mage had avoided eye contact for half the night, and how he had practically sang with pleasure when he finally gave in to it. Bull went to bed restless, finding that having a favorite was considerably more troublesome than he remembered.
- - -
They’d continued to see each other, in the months that stretched quickly into the uncertain future they both worked to preserve. Dorian found himself staying away purposefully some nights, certain that two nights in a row was out of the question, was too much to ask. Bull had never turned him away, often seeking him out in subtle ways, letting Dorian choose him. It made Dorian’s heart flutter, and if he was a little smug at the crestfallen look a blonde-headed boy gave the two of them as they left one night, well… who could blame him?
And yet Dorian was not naive; he knew that disappointment in others simply meant they’d have to wait until tomorrow. If he noticed who else Bull took to bed it was only because Dorian himself seemed to frequent Bull’s quarters more often than not. Eventually, Dorian knew, the issue would need addressing. In time he’d bring it up, but not tonight - never tonight.
- - -
A year had passed and it couldn’t be avoided any longer. Dorian had been one of very few constants, other than the Chargers, that had kept him grounded while he had adjusted to becoming Tal-Vashoth. It had been worth it, he’d finally been able to admit, but that did not make it easy. The same could be said for the tenuous line he and the Altus rode between commitment and fear. It would be worth it, whatever the outcome. He had to believe that.
And so one night, a night shared after some time apart, the kind of night where they came at each other more hungry and raw than others, Bull finally spoke on the matter, as they laid entwined together, irrevocably.
“So, you and me.” He began with a far too casual drawl. He felt Dorian tense, and then continued. “We’ve never really had a proper conversation about it, huh?”
“Is one needed?” Dorian asked in a strained voice, fear building almost physically against Bull’s side where they touched.
“I think so, yeah.”
“Are you done with this, with… us?” Dorian asked, mirroring the casual drawl as he gestured lazily to their bodies laid out before them. Bull smiled despite the thickness of the moment. He knew Dorian feared this, and that’s what made the truth harder.
“No, not even a little bit.” Bull said with a sigh, waiting for Dorian’s hopes to return, and fearing they might crash again.
Dorian turned to him then, his eyes wide and far too telling.
“So then…?” Dorian said carefully, ever afraid to admit weakness, to admit he cared deeply for Bull. In that at least, Bull could meet him halfway.
“So, I care about you, Dorian. We’re good together, aren’t we?”
“I… I suppose we are, yes.” Dorian replied, still wary, still waiting for the other foot to fall. A long moment stretched between them as Bull said nothing further, afraid himself of rejection, afraid Dorian would not understand. It was a risk he’d have to take, but honesty was his only option.
“So I think we should be together, like properly. I know you want that, have been waiting for it, but have been too afraid to bring it up.”
Dorian leaned up then, taking in Bull’s features before taking Bull’s chin in his hand and kissing him.
“I hadn’t assumed that was an option with you. I, well yes, I… I want that… more than I even wish to admit myself. You… mean a great deal to me.” There was a lightness to Dorian’s features and Bull could feel the mage’s pulse racing. It hurt him to push him back, to seat him in front of him and keep his own expression neutral. The other foot had not yet fallen. Dorian caught on a moment before Bull could elaborate.
“What? What is it? Bull if this is some sort of joke-”
“Not at all. It’s just - I know you. I know what you’ll think when I say this but listen, all right?” Bull said evenly, trying for kind as he rifled through Dorian’s hair affectionately. He could see Dorian’s walls rebuilding, and if Bull was worried he wouldn’t understand, well… who could blame him?
“I’m listening.”
“I want to be with you, and that means I’d be committed to you.” Bull paused when Dorian’s lip twitched, and then continued, “I know that means a lot to you, I know being faithful is important to you, and I can give you that. That being said, we’re gonna need to set some boundaries.”
Dorian seemed to ease at that, his fear allayed by the assumption that Bull was simply ill-versed in discussing romantic matters. In truth, he was as well. Dorian slumped forward, allowing Bull to draw him up close to him.
“Well that sounds perfectly reasonable.” Dorian replied. “What are your concerns?”
Dorian looked at him expectantly, as if believing the flaw was with him. As if there was a flaw at all. Bull sighed once more before finally pulling the trigger. He’d understand, or he wouldn’t.
“I’m going to still want to sleep with other people, if we’re together. But it won’t be what you think.”
He saw Dorian’s face go blank, not with anger nor sadness, but just well and truly blank. Bull continued, before the fires could be allowed to spread.
“I never want to lie to you, Dorian, you are far too important to me. But I know me, and if we’re going to be together, it’s going to have to be an open-relationship. It would go both ways, of course, if you wanted. We’d discuss everything, every one if need be, ahead of time.”
Dorian still said nothing when Bull paused. Usually, Bull could get a read on him, had known how his muscles wired down to his heart. But Bull sat waiting, finding only stone features, expressionless and unintelligible. Suddenly he felt very weak. He charged ahead anyway, as ever.
“If that isn’t something you can agree to, I understand. I really do.”
Another pause.
“But I’m offering it to you anyway, because you’re worth the effort. Because I can’t imagine being without you anymore.”
Something about that stirred Dorian’s features. He looked at Bull as if studying a relic, as if trying to understand an ancient dialect just barely beyond his modern understanding. And then slowly he sucked in his lips, and looked down to the side before finally inhaling deeply. His features smoothed out, and he spoke.
“It figures, you know,” he began with his usual sarcasm, “that the one man who cares for me genuinely, who actually graces me with respect and honesty of any amount would be an ex-Qunari spy.”
With a lilt tilt of his head and a smirk that was not quite a sneer, Dorian let out a single, quiet laugh.
“It’s funny how every day of my life, I compare myself to my father, and his expectations. How the things we have no control over seem to matter so much to others. I won’t be like him, you know.”
Bull listened with a pensive expression, and dared not speak – not until Dorian gave him an answer, or made for the door. They sat there together then, for another few moments as Dorian looked past him, in thought. Finally thick lashes blinked together, and Dorian turned towards Bull once again.
“Yes.”
The word hung between them like the Veil, keeping as much in as it did out, both sides needed to understand the whole. Their eyes met then, and something passed unsaid between them, as it often did. And as Bull’s face broke into it’s crooked smile, he felt the tension leave his chest - felt something heavy finally fall into place.
“I’ll be fussy about it, you know.” Dorian said flippantly as he resettled himself in the crook of Bull’s arm.
“When aren’t you fussy?” Bull said with a chuckle, petting Dorian’s hair with his free hand. It felt different to touch him now, absurd as it was, because he was his now. He felt the twitch of Dorian’s mustache against his side, and knew he was smiling.
“I mean it. We’ll talk about this all tomorrow, properly, but I’ll have you know right now you’ll not have anyone who looks like me.”
Bull laughed heartily at that, shaking his head fondly.
“Trust me Dorian, there’s nobody who looks like you.”
“All the same.”
“Alright. I promise.”
They spent the better part of an hour like that, Dorian insisting they’d speak more later, only to bring up another question, as if delicately testing the new arrangement in half-steps.
“No one from the inner circle.”
“After being separated from a mission they’d spend the first two nights together, at least.”
“Any issues of jealously or displeasure in a secondary party would be discussed only between them, and never with the person in question.”
“Cullen was off-limits even in jest.”
On and on like that, they went, each topic giving way to more, until they were seemingly satisfied, for now. At some point though, Bull’s hands wandered too low for talk, and they fell into each other. They fucked until morning, until the sun shown between their curtains, until they were so tired they could barely be bothered to wash up before slipping back in to bed together.
And yet they did, finding the strength to do things properly. Clean and satisfied they watched the sun rise, warm and kind on their skin. And if somehow Dorian thought he had managed to find one of the best men in Thedas to call his own, if he found himself bragging about their newfound arrangement later that night in the tavern, well, who could blame him?

