ic inbox;; drift fleet

[fantachetic]

Comments

[fantachetic]

It makes you wonder just how many different Inquisitors there are, doesn't it? Where do their paths branch off, and how similar are their futures? And where do we fit into it?

[ Maker, he's just going to take another drink and stop rambling. This is a LOT to think about. ]

[theirondragon]

[Bull follows suit and laughs, rolling his shoulders.]

As long as there's something around for me to hit, I'm good. And hey, [He nudges Dorian's shoulder again.] You're still the same old fop. That's something, right?

[fantachetic]

[ Dorian cheers rather unenthusiastically, raising his bottle in a toast before drinking again for a bit longer. ]

Well done, us.

[theirondragon]

[Bull joins him in that toast, and subsequent drink, and then watches him appreciatively for a moment. The Vint's never been hard on the eyes, and every new things he learns about the guy just makes him all the hotter.]

You know. Sure, people talk, and Josephine bitches about all the wine, but you really know your way around a bottle.

[He takes a breath, blinks slightly, and shifts to lean against the wall as well.]

Of course, the true test of a good drink is whether or not you can stand and make it to the latrine.

[fantachetic]

I know my way around a great deal more than a bottle, Iron Bull.

[ He's rather comfortable here, all things considered. ]

I'm quite certain I've still got coordination of all of my limbs enough to perform erotic dance.

[ IS HE JOKING?? ]

[theirondragon]

That sounds like a challenge.

[And if there's any indication in his voice, he's very excited about the prospect of that challenge.]

I'm not buyin' unless you're sellin', big guy.

[And he makes a motion toward the open area beyond the bed.]

[fantachetic]

Find me ten silk scarves and we'll talk.

[ Yep, just going to take another serious drink and contemplate what his day has become. ]

[theirondragon]

[Oh, he knows exactly how nice that would be and he makes a mental note to see if he can find something to fulfill that little requirement and make the mage put his money where his mouth is. That being said...

...Bull corks his bottle, there isn't too much left of it anyway, and turns toward Dorian, moving his much larger frame as to make it easier to loom over Dorian if he so chose.]

That sounds nice and all, but I was talking about tonight. [And he does move to loom over him, meeting those steel eyes with his own. it only takes one to convey his desire. It's always burned there, since the first time he'd laid eyes on Dorian.]

You play coy in front of the others, but we both know what you want.

[fantachetic]

[ Loom, the Bull does. Dorian doesn't quite expect so much of him in his personal space. His focus can't help but go to that single eye that feels like Bull can look straight through him and see his every thought. He can't seem to look away even as he feels his face heating up. Is it from the drink or from Bull being so close? Likely a hideous combination of both. ]

A-ah--

[ It's about all the noise that he happens to be able to make. He didn't know this was quite what he wanted, but here they were.. and he couldn't find it in him to say he didn't. Dorian can't deny he hadn't thought about it. The Qunari have always been those forbidden and taboo thoughts, haven't they? It seems his brain can't think past him, either. Though there is a lot of Bull to try and do that.

His focus goes from that single eye, flicking down to Bull's lips, lingering.

Damn it all to hell. Fingers clumsily grasp at Bull's ugly shirt, pulling him closer until their lips are centimeters apart. ]

Do we?

[theirondragon]

[It's with a great amount of skill the Bull, without pulling against Dorian's grip on his shirt or expanding the distance between their mouth, moves his hands to either side of Dorian, holding himself against the metal wall behind him, the heat from his body, increased by drink and arousal, radiating from him. An amused smirk pulled at the corners of his lips and he chuckled deeply, moving his lips enough to tease his breath across Dorian's face.]

You want to be conquered.

[He shifted his gaze over the curve of Dorian's full lips, the angle of his jaw, then back to his eyes.]

But you ready for what that means?

[fantachetic]

[ With the Bull's bulk looming over him so closely, Dorian shivers in anticipation, licking his lips. If it's not apparent that yes, he is fully prepared for what that means, his hands move to reach up and grip Bull by the horns. He does want to be conquered, more than he initially realized. ]

Then by all means, conquer.