Cyril listens and feels his body relax a bit more as Bull speaks. He knows all of those things are true, that he'd never, ever think of Bull as somehow incompletely. He imagines that there was a lot that Bull had to get used to after he lost his eye. He wants to be as strong as that.
He swallows, hard. He can't think of anything witty or smart to say to that. Instead, he focuses on the wound again.
"I think the bleeding stopped?" he suggests after a moment. "And you're right. I think you've given me worse before not to mention all of those bandits and red templars I've fought."
He pulls the cloth away, and then gently kisses where the cut was.
"I wasn't talking about your face." And then he leans back, rolling a shoulder. Cyril never liked to talk about his feelings, and that was just how he was. The Iron Bull knew he could pry the words out of him, but that wasn't the point.
All he could do was tell him what he needed to hear- which, granted, wasn't untrue- and let him roll the words around in his mind himself.
But now he needed actions, not words. So he smirked.
"Miss me? Why don't we celebrate me coming home? I learned a few new knot patterns."
Cyril's brow rose a bit at that, because he couldn't help but be intrigued. "First, yes. Of course I missed you. Terribly. How else am I meant to get things off the top shelves?"
Then he returned the smirk. That was much better. Less doom and gloom and more easing back into being near one another. "And new knot patterns? How nice, I picked up some new rope while you were away. It's dyed so it's this brilliant red color."
And there was no warning, he just stepped close and swept Cyril into his arms, holding him steady across his arms and letting him relax against his broad chest.
"Colored rope? Now you're getting fancy." He chuckled, walking them down the hall to the spare bedroom they had re-purposed.
He opened the bedroom door and nudged it closed with his foot, stepping to the rather plain bed and resting Cyril on it.
It was, of course, a bit of a trap, but Cyril didn't need to know that he wasn't done showing him that he wasn't broken yet.
And just as he said, there was bright red rope where they kept the rest of the lengths of rope.
Cyril made a slight noise of surprise when he was picked up, but he trusted Bull enough not the flail. Once they were in the room, he settled on the bed and removed his shirt as ordered. He watched Bull with a certain level of anticipation. Taking off his clothes with one hand was a slower process than before but he didn't dawdle.
Once his chest was exposed he moved his legs as requested. He was careful to keep his gaze fixed on Bull.
He stepped behind him, looping the rope around his neck, and biting his shoulder softly. Not enough to leave a mark, that wasn't the point right now. Later, yes, but not now.
He pulled the rope around him, pushing and moving him when he needed to, and balancing him when he knew that Cyril would have settled his weight on his left hand.
The knots were quick, deft, and he rope became a harness of sorts, another rope added as he needed it.
"There." And he pushed Cyril softly, just using the tips of his fingers, making him bow over. His right arm was tied fast behind his back, what remained of his left secured against his chest.
Cyril shifted his body to bow as Bull guided him. He hummed softly, clearly enjoying the feel of the ropes against him. It was easy to forget all about the things that had been troubling him when Bull was there, touching him and binding him.
"I thought the red would look good," he commented, lightly, a little too pleased with himself at the moment.
Ah, there it was, and he hooked his fingers under the rope, pulling him back up. The Iron Bull quickly stripped off his clothes, with a practiced quickness, but he was only away from him for a few seconds.
This time, he did bite down roughly on his neck, sucking in his skin as he did, enough to leave a mark.
"Red looks good on you."
He ran his tongue over where the welt was already forming, putting his fingers against Cyril's neck and craning Cyril's head back against his broad shoulder.
Years ago, this is where he would have reminded him to use the word if he needed to, but by now they were familiar enough that he knew how far he could push him, reliably, and he could read him well enough. Truth be told, it was only ever an act of balancing how much discomfort he could take.
And so he slid behind him, fingers still against his pale, thin throat.
Where there might have been a quip, instead he took his other hand, holding Cyril against him and gently tonguing his ear.
Cyril groaned, the noise unabashedly loud. His ears were sensitive, of course, and Bull knew just how to exploit that. He felt his body heat up just from that attention spent there. His squirmed just a bit in Bull's arms, legs shifting so that he arched up into the grasp.
Ah, that was a good sound, too. He chuckled softly, pressing against Cyril, leadying growing hard against him. "I wonder what I'll do you you today. There are knives, whips...or I could just use you until you can't stand for a few hours."
"Ah," Cyril cried out just a bit and turned his head to make it easier for Bull to access more of his skin. He loved how Bull could make him forget about everything other than what was happening between them, what was in the room. "All of the above?" he replied, though his voice was a little too strained to pull off the job.
"I've been gone for too long. You've already forgotten who's in charge here."
He bit his ear again, a little harder, just enough to hurt a bit. His hand against Cyril's stomach inched lower, undoing his pants easily. He took his other hande from his throat, pulling his pants and smallclothes down nearly to his knees and running his fingers over his bare skin.
Cyril mumbled a bit but it wasn't coherent. He shifted his hips, pressing up to give Bull a better sight. He didn't want to talk any more, not when he could enjoy having Bull's mouth and hands on him.
He liked to believe that he was okay being apart for so long. In a lot of ways, he was, but it was impossible to think that when Bull had him bound and at his mercy. For this moment, all he wanted was to never leave this room.
He pushed him over again, slapping his bare ass and kissing his back as he reached for the bottles of oil they kept near the bed. He rested himself against him, bucking his hips against him a few time, just so that he could feel the length of him against his skin, and he made a frustrated sound.
He slicked up his fingers, running them over Cyril's skin and softly pressing one into him. He'd start slow, for now, but he had plans.
Cyril groaned a bit from frustration as well, though he loved the feeling of Bull's cock against his ass. When Bull's finger pressed into him he cried out again and shifted his hips to press into it, encouraging Bull to press in deeper to do more.
He might not have any lovers while Bull was away but he did have plenty of toys to keep his body ready for Bull's return.
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no subject
Date: 2015-09-21 02:10 am (UTC)From:He swallows, hard. He can't think of anything witty or smart to say to that. Instead, he focuses on the wound again.
"I think the bleeding stopped?" he suggests after a moment. "And you're right. I think you've given me worse before not to mention all of those bandits and red templars I've fought."
"Still... it's never been on my face before."
no subject
Date: 2015-09-21 02:14 am (UTC)From:"I wasn't talking about your face." And then he leans back, rolling a shoulder. Cyril never liked to talk about his feelings, and that was just how he was. The Iron Bull knew he could pry the words out of him, but that wasn't the point.
All he could do was tell him what he needed to hear- which, granted, wasn't untrue- and let him roll the words around in his mind himself.
But now he needed actions, not words. So he smirked.
"Miss me? Why don't we celebrate me coming home? I learned a few new knot patterns."
Odd, but the word was meant, pointed, direct.
no subject
Date: 2015-09-21 02:19 am (UTC)From:Then he returned the smirk. That was much better. Less doom and gloom and more easing back into being near one another. "And new knot patterns? How nice, I picked up some new rope while you were away. It's dyed so it's this brilliant red color."
no subject
Date: 2015-09-21 02:26 am (UTC)From:And there was no warning, he just stepped close and swept Cyril into his arms, holding him steady across his arms and letting him relax against his broad chest.
"Colored rope? Now you're getting fancy." He chuckled, walking them down the hall to the spare bedroom they had re-purposed.
He opened the bedroom door and nudged it closed with his foot, stepping to the rather plain bed and resting Cyril on it.
It was, of course, a bit of a trap, but Cyril didn't need to know that he wasn't done showing him that he wasn't broken yet.
And just as he said, there was bright red rope where they kept the rest of the lengths of rope.
"Sitting up, legs folded under you. Shirt off."
Simple orders, to start.
no subject
Date: 2015-09-21 02:29 am (UTC)From:Once his chest was exposed he moved his legs as requested. He was careful to keep his gaze fixed on Bull.
He really did miss him when he was away.
no subject
Date: 2015-09-21 02:36 am (UTC)From:He pulled the rope around him, pushing and moving him when he needed to, and balancing him when he knew that Cyril would have settled his weight on his left hand.
The knots were quick, deft, and he rope became a harness of sorts, another rope added as he needed it.
"There." And he pushed Cyril softly, just using the tips of his fingers, making him bow over. His right arm was tied fast behind his back, what remained of his left secured against his chest.
no subject
Date: 2015-09-21 02:42 am (UTC)From:"I thought the red would look good," he commented, lightly, a little too pleased with himself at the moment.
no subject
Date: 2015-09-21 02:54 am (UTC)From:This time, he did bite down roughly on his neck, sucking in his skin as he did, enough to leave a mark.
"Red looks good on you."
He ran his tongue over where the welt was already forming, putting his fingers against Cyril's neck and craning Cyril's head back against his broad shoulder.
Years ago, this is where he would have reminded him to use the word if he needed to, but by now they were familiar enough that he knew how far he could push him, reliably, and he could read him well enough. Truth be told, it was only ever an act of balancing how much discomfort he could take.
And so he slid behind him, fingers still against his pale, thin throat.
Where there might have been a quip, instead he took his other hand, holding Cyril against him and gently tonguing his ear.
no subject
Date: 2015-09-21 03:01 am (UTC)From:"Hn," he groaned. "Better when you put it there."
no subject
Date: 2015-09-21 03:08 am (UTC)From:He bit his ear, making a small noise as he did.
no subject
Date: 2015-09-21 03:10 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2015-09-21 03:15 am (UTC)From:"I've been gone for too long. You've already forgotten who's in charge here."
He bit his ear again, a little harder, just enough to hurt a bit. His hand against Cyril's stomach inched lower, undoing his pants easily. He took his other hande from his throat, pulling his pants and smallclothes down nearly to his knees and running his fingers over his bare skin.
Oh, he did miss him.
no subject
Date: 2015-09-21 03:22 am (UTC)From:He liked to believe that he was okay being apart for so long. In a lot of ways, he was, but it was impossible to think that when Bull had him bound and at his mercy. For this moment, all he wanted was to never leave this room.
no subject
Date: 2015-09-21 03:27 am (UTC)From:He slicked up his fingers, running them over Cyril's skin and softly pressing one into him. He'd start slow, for now, but he had plans.
no subject
Date: 2015-09-21 03:34 am (UTC)From:He might not have any lovers while Bull was away but he did have plenty of toys to keep his body ready for Bull's return.