` 𝑬𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍
𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒚𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐.
[ … ] Coming from where he had, never holding much importance save for the polite acknowledgement, it was still taking some getting used to, this… entire thing. The importance, the genuine relief &&. joy when he’d return between journeys through Ferelden back to Skyhold.
Between the Inquisition’s usual needed Duty’s, trying to patch together &&. heal the very skies themselves &&. fending off Corypheus’ attacks between Regions… while he was gradually, bit by bit growing more comfortable with the title he’d been crowned of Andraste’s chosen – being treated like something cherished for himself, believed to be human over infallible, indestructible — it never failed to make him falter in the best of ways.
He wouldn’t say he craved the closeness, not so openly, but with a cheeky grin tossed the Qunari’s way upon returning, a leading hue gleaming in bright autumn sights before he turned to make his way to their war room to regroup &&. give a final report in with his Advisors – he can describe it no other way as he feels the bristling starts of anticipation, of excitement teasing along his spine like chilled fingertips. A certain subdued giddiness to his gestures as he goes to finish his own business, holding the sight of the Mercenary Captain’s own crook lipped grin close in mind.
Step by step, up to his quarters he goes with a honeyed slowness leaving him so sluggishly paced once he’s relieved of duty &&. dismissed to recover – he can’t help but count his breaths, fox-toned sights flitting between the stairs he progresses up &&. the door ahead.
Finally coming to a halt at the firm barrier, it takes an embarrassing minute to prod himself into moving, to opening it up with a slowed twist of his wrist, head peeking in before he loudly enters. His armoured boots echo as he tromps up the final few stairs to the loft-suite he’d been gifted, feeling the telling chill of the mountain air breezing through from opened windows. Something he’s certain he’d left closed before departing.
More of those jittery chills leaving fresh goosebumps along his skin in new bloom. Once he reaches the top, he’s not disappointed by the company he finds, lounging at his desk by the fireplace, feet comfortably propped atop the surface, reclined just enough to still give the air of composed alertness he’d usually donned. Already, there’s a smile etching easily along his lips, much warmer, more openly fond as Mercius steps further inside the open room.
Bull’s eye follows his movement, his own expression quick to mirror, that thunder deep chuckle reverberating through the space in a way that made the rogue hum happily.
Not quite their usual game or set up – it’s awkward, admittedly, a slowed staccato in how they’d usually go about initiating intimacy. No words are spoken just yet, just lingering stares, conveyed messages, feelings, thoughts all shared through a threadbare, fragile glance over anything more. Like the moment was so delicately spun, acknowledging it meant shattering everything between careless hands. In their defense… this was most likely the longest he’d been away from the other man. One of the few journeys the fighter hadn’t been able to accompany him on.
Turning his back to @vikshodgepodge, listening to the sound of the chair he rest against creak before it’s settled none-too gently back onto the stone flooring. There’s more sounds of shuffling, things being closed, locked tight to be secure once more, all as Mercius makes it a point not to look, continuing to pry &&. unlace his armour piece by piece.
Steps come in closer, pausing a quiet breath away, the instant warmth he can find curled just out of reach, radiating so strongly from the man he knows stands behind – he releases his breath with a shuddery laugh, eyes pinned down as he tosses one of his overly ornate pauldrons onto the bench space ahead… Confident, knowing the other’d take it from there, he leans back in a smooth step.
Sighing softly when he meets Bull’s sturdy frame, he’s happy to report his arms are quick to envelope him, cradling, caring, another unspoken promise to take care &&. safeguard. All the blonde can do is beam to himself, wide smile, the barest hint of peeking teeth between chapped lips given to empty air as he turns his face into one of the draped pale arms.
Pressing a kiss to the bared skin beneath, it’s nice when the pair begin to lightly sway, before one of Bull’s hands move to help him finish taking off the rest of his gear. Over far sooner, thankfully with his aid, it isn’t long before the Anchor-bearer feels he can breathe easy for what felt the first time in weeks. Months.
A kiss is pressed back, a rumble-toned hum as a hand plays with his hair – overgrown, sadly fluffing out after being tucked away beneath his helmet for who knew how long – a few more passing beats before he’s promptly turned in place, another kiss tamped down just by his temple as he’s soon swooped up in a flurry of limbs, breathless laugh following before he finds his back making contact with the blessedly soft sheets on his bed.
Peering up in a brief daze at the looming Qunari, his grin is nothing short of adoring, relief-struck &&. quietly fawning, something notably tender amidst the bit of mixed in concern – Bull’s eye flicks along his features, searching around for any potential new scars, wounds, any new changes undergone in his absence.
The entire time, all Mercius can do is laugh, a quiet sound barely breaking a whisper, expression dimming down to something no less warm, but reserved, private, darting from the other’s mouth back up scarred features to the eyepatch &&. eye above. Hand reaching up, pausing before he huffs &&. plucks it off with the edge of his teeth, the action is a little rushed, impatient, but quick to sooth as he melds it to the strong shape of the Qunari’s face.
It’s a loving gesture, sappy. As much as he’d normally be the one to tease &&. poke fun at the way the man leans into it, when touch-starved… he himself was no better.
Finally he breaks the deafening silence, head angled, other arm reaching up to loop around the other’s neck to simply hold.
` ⟢ 𝑨𝑺𝑲 𝑹𝑬𝑪𝑬𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑫 . ᨒ↟𐂂
⟢ 「 THROW 」 : for sender to throw receiver onto the bed
(iron bull)
