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Arlaros stretched, feeling the delicious burn of his sore muscles. Across the room, Dorian was staring out the window, his gloriously naked backside on full display. Arlaros let himself stare, memorizing how Dorian’s skin dipped and curved and shone in the moonlight. His eyelids were heavy, and sleep pulled at him, but he refused to waste a single moment when he could be with Dorian.
Honestly, he was surprised the other mage had gotten up so quickly. They had dozed for maybe half an hour after some of the best sex Arlaros had ever had, and then Dorian had untangled himself from his arms and taken to moving slowly around the room. Something was on his mind, but Arlaros’s own thoughts were still too pleasantly fuzzy to press him. Dorian would speak when he was ready.
Eventually, still turned toward the window, Dorian said, “I like your quarters.”
The statement caught Arlaros off guard. He had never really put much thought into his quarters beyond getting the Dalish-inspired stained glass installed when Josephine offered. Even his bed had been chosen by Josephine when he had taken too long to decide. He said as much, and Dorian chuckled.
“Well, I’ll have to let Lady Montilyet know I approve of her selection.”
Arlaros snickered. “I’m sure she’d appreciate that. Maybe you can ask her for a more comfortable desk chair while you’re at it.”
Dorian turned toward him at that, eyebrow raised. “Oh?” It was a single syllable, and yet Arlaros could hear concern in it.
“It’s not important. In fact, I’m fairly certain she already gave me the nicest one in Skyhold, I’m just not used to bending over papers for so long. I’ll adjust.”
A thoughtful hum was the only reply as Dorian circled around the desk and chair in question, poking briefly at the upholstery. No doubt he was mentally comparing it to the luxury of his homeland, running figures on how much importing a chair would cost. Or maybe he was simply trying to determine how disdainful his review should be.
After a few minutes, Dorian turned away, his face thoughtful. A part of Arlaros wondered at the ease with which Dorian moved through the room despite his nakedness, but he supposed it made sense with all he knew of the man. He was an attentive lover who knew his own skills and beauty.
As he watched Dorian wander around his quarters, Arlaros slowly became aware of a restlessness that had settled over him. His movements were smooth and sure, but his gaze was distant. Perhaps waiting for Dorian to speak wasn’t the right approach.
“Something on your mind?” he asked when Dorian turned back toward the bed.
“Hm? Oh, just distracted. Sex will do that.” But even as he spoke, Dorian moved to sit next to him on the bed, his fingers tapping against his naked thigh.
Arlaros ran a hand along Dorian’s shoulders, pressing just hard enough to indent the skin as he moved from shoulder to shoulder. “Talk to me.”
The heavy sigh that followed wasn’t what Arlaros expected, nor was the conflicted look on Dorian’s face when he turned to meet his gaze. “I’m…wondering about where we go from here. As I said, the flirting has been nice, but we’ve had our fun now. It would be perfectly reasonable to leave things here and remember this fondly. After all, you hardly need the distraction, what with this business of killing archdemons.”
Arlaros withdrew his hand, a frown pulling at his brows. “Is that what you want?”
He had hoped for more. In truth, he had been ready to fold Dorian even deeper into the fabric of his life, but he wouldn’t press for anything he didn’t want. Leaving things here would hurt, but he was grateful he had Dorian at all, even for so short a time.
Dorian shifted on the sheets. “I like you,” he said, and the words shouldn’t have felt so surprising after the vigorous sex they had just had, but Arlaros warmed at them anyway. “I like you more than I should, more than is wise. If we end it here and I walk away, I won’t be pleased. But it would be better than leaving later. Later might be dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” Arlaros echoed, searching Dorian’s eyes.
“Walking away might be harder then.”
Arlaros let those words sit between them for several long seconds. His eyes roamed Dorian’s face--open and unguarded for once--and tried to figure out what the man wanted, if it fit with his own desires. Eventually, he reached out and took Dorian’s hands in his own.
“You’re right, this was fun. But I want more than fun with you. I want you, here at my side and me at yours.”
Dorian’s eyes went wide. He glanced between their held hands and Arlaros’s face several times, opening his mouth to speak before closing it again.
“Speechless? You?”
Dorian swallowed several times and pulled his hands away. Arlaros let go, watching as Dorian ran them through his hair anxiously. “That’s…not what I was expecting,” he finally admitted. “In the circles of Tiventer I ran in, anything between two men was purely physical. It’s about pleasure, and although it’s accepted, it’s taken no further. You learn not to hope for more. It’d be foolish to.”
Ah. That…made a lot of sense, actually. For all his brazenness, Dorian never seemed to believe when someone was interested in him beyond the surface. After their confrontation with Halward Pavus and learning that he would have used blood magic on Dorian to change him if given the chance, the hesitancy and self-doubt made sense. Arlaros had thought they had moved beyond that during the past several weeks with their flirting and stolen kisses, but that obviously wasn’t true.
“What if I want to be foolish with you? I want more, Dorian.”
A small smile grew on Dorian’s lips. “Ah, amatus, you’ve already made a fool of me.”
Arlaros echoed the smile, filing the Tevene word away for later. “Is that a yes?”
In response, Dorian kissed him. It was deep and filthy, and Arlaros couldn’t help the moan that Dorian pulled from him. He felt Dorian smile against his lips. Then, he moved back, a dark twinkle in his eyes. “Care to inquisit me again?”
Arlaros swatted his chest and laughed. “That’s a terrible line.”
“Ah, but it’s working, isn’t it?”
“You’re lucky you’re so sexy.”
Dorian smirked, and Arlaros pushed him into the mattress.
. . .
Arlaros woke with the sun, although he lingered in bed for several minutes after its rays lit the room, admiring the way they fell across Dorian’s exposed torso and tousled hair. He really was gorgeous, and in sleep there was almost an innocence about him as if he had finally shed the last of his masks. It was a look he wished he could see more often.
Eventually, he rose from the bed and went about his morning routine, washing up and changing into his day clothes. Dorian slept through his movements, and Arlaros smiled as he passed the bed on the way to his desk. If he had his wish, they’d be able to stay in bed all day. Unfortunately, his responsibilities couldn’t wait.
He sat down at his desk and looked over the stack of papers that had accumulated there over the past week. In truth, he had spent more time than was likely wise chasing down the merchant who had Dorian’s amulet, and now he was facing the consequences. He didn’t mind, though. It was worth it to be able to return something to Dorian that he so obviously missed.
Still…the conversation they had had yesterday afternoon when he had returned the amulet bothered him. When he had first handed it over, Dorian had looked furious. “Now I’m indebted to you,” he had said.
That wasn’t true and never would be, but Arlaros had had difficulty getting that across. It wasn’t just because he was attracted to Dorian that he helped him--they were friends, Dorian had done right by him time and again, and the merchant had been a greedy ass. All of those were perfectly good reasons to help someone, he thought, but all Dorian could see was what people would say--that he was taking advantage of him and his position as Inquisitor. After he had finally accepted the amulet back, he had sworn to repay Arlaros, and the determination in his voice had brooked no argument.
Arlaros’s eyes wandered up from the paper he was supposed to be reading. He looked over at Dorian, who was just beginning to rouse from sleep, hair still tangled and mussed from sex and sleep. He was beautiful, and anyone would be lucky to have him in their bed.
That idle thought froze Arlaros in his place, pen hovering just above the page. Lucky. Anyone would be lucky to have Dorian in their bed. Unless it wasn’t luck and the culmination of their flirting that had encouraged Dorian to make his move last night. Unless it was something else.
Arlaros forced his eyes to turn back to his paper as Dorian began to rise from the bed. They needed to talk, and it took all of his restraint not to burst from his chair and demand answers, but they needed to be on level footing first. Dorian’s current naked and disheveled state was anything but even.
It took a quarter of an hour for Dorian to dress and comb his hair, humming quietly to himself. From the corner of his eye, Arlaros could see him glancing over every now and then, but he kept his gaze low on his desk. His thoughts were scattered, and he could feel his pulse racing just under his skin.
Finally, Dorian was dressed, and Arlaros couldn’t wait any longer.
“Dorian?” he called, standing from his desk.
The man turned, an easy smile on his lips. “Like what you see?”
Despite himself, Arlaros looked Dorian over, his eyes lingering on the exposed skin of his shoulder and the lovebites he could see bruising there. Dorian wore them without shame, but something in Arlaros’s stomach twisted at the sight.
“We need to talk.”
The smile on Dorian’s face crumpled, but he quickly covered the devastated expression with another grin. “Those words are more terrifying than any Venatori or Templars, especially after sex.” He said the words flippantly, but there was concern in the lines around his eyes.
Arlaros gestured for Dorian to sit in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace and took the other. Dorian obeyed, sitting gracefully.
“When did you decide that last night was the night you wanted to have sex with me?”
Dorian blinked. “That’s quite a blunt question--how very inquisitorial of you. But surely you know how spontaneous and impatient I am. I wanted you, and I acted.”
Arlaros wished he could believe that. “Are you sure it was spontaneous? It didn’t pop up as an option around noon yesterday?”
“You know, most of my bedmates haven’t been so concerned with--”
“Dorian. I returned your amulet to you yesterday, and you insisted you wouldn’t stay in my debt. You promised to repay me, even though I told you gifts don’t need repayment. Then, when I came by later that afternoon to speak with Fiona, you asked if I had been by my quarters recently. I said I hadn’t, and you only grinned at me.”
Arlaros stood from his chair and crossed to Dorian’s side, kneeling in front of the chair. Dorian watched his movements warily, eyes following him down while his fingers twitched erratically against the armrests. He looked like he was half a second from fleeing. But he stayed.
“When I came back to my room last night, I was surprised to see you. Then, you leaned in and whispered the promise of a good time in my ear, something I had been hoping, waiting for. And we had what might have been the best sex of my life.”
“You flatter me.”
“But this morning, my mind is clearer, and I think I’ve done something I can never forgive myself for.”
Dorian frowned down at him. “If you regret sleeping with me that much, you didn’t need to tell me on your knees. I’m a big boy, I can take rejection.”
A frustrated growl rumbled from Arlaros’s throat, and he shook his head. “Sometimes I swear you’re deliberately obtuse,” he muttered to the floor. Then, he met Dorian’s eyes again. “I need to know if you slept with me last night because you felt you had to repay a debt.”
The silence that met him made Arlaros’s heart sink. So it was true. Dorian hadn’t meant all he had said last night. He had simply been saying the things he thought Arlaros wanted to hear, and he was right. He couldn't remember ever being so happy as when Dorian agreed to try a relationship with him.
But it was a lie.
Arlaros pushed himself to his feet and stepped back, giving Dorian room to think or flee if he needed. He turned toward the fireplace, unable to look directly at him now.
“I’m terribly attracted to you, you know?”
Dorian’s voice startled him, and he turned with a frown. Dorian was staring at the ground, brows drawn together and hands clasped in front of him as he leaned over his knees. He looked almost like he was praying.
“I’ve wanted to sleep with you since that day in the Redcliffe chantry when you charged a group of demons as if it was nothing and closed a rift with the wave of your hand. You’re enchanting. But yes. I decided to try my luck last night as a way to repay you for going to the trouble of retrieving my amulet.” He met Arlaros’s eyes once more. “What does that change?”
“Right now, it makes me feel awful about last night. Not because I regret you,” he quickly added to assuage the hurt in Dorian’s eyes. “I slept with you because I am physically and romantically attracted to you, that hasn’t changed. But I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to. And I mean genuinely want for yourself, not because you think it’s what you should do.”
Dorian blinked up at him, as if his words were having trouble processing. “Did you miss the part where I admitted how devastatingly attractive I find you? I did say that, no?”
Arlaros let out a huff of air. “That isn’t enough. When I gave you your amulet back, you told me people will try and insert themselves into my life to gain my favor and power and influence. You worried people will think you’re manipulating me. But did you consider the opposite?”
“What, that the noble Inquisitor, Herald of Andraste, is corrupting the Tevinter mage? Hadn’t crossed my mind.”
Arlaros counted to five, letting Dorian’s sarcastic words slide off him. “No, that I might be using you. You’re in exile--”
“Self-imposed.”
“In a foreign land surrounded by people who doubt and fear your every move. You’re here because I vouched for you, and after I did you a favor you slept with me.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Arlaros stepped forward until he was standing just in front of Dorian. Then, he reached out a hand. Dorian took it willingly, and he pulled him up so they were standing level more. They were close, chests nearly touching. Dorian’s breath ghosted warmly over Arlaros’s skin.
“If I hadn’t retrieved your amulet and you didn’t feel like you owed me a single thing, would you still want this? Would you want it to be more than just ‘having fun’?”
He said the words as a whisper, but they hung heavy in the air between them. He waited, watching Dorian watching him. Even like this, he was beautiful, and Arlaros found himself memorizing the features of his face just in case they were never this close again.
Finally, Dorian nodded. “I would.”
“And the hesitation?”
Dorian closed his eyes for a moment, obviously gathering his reply. When he opened them again, he said, “If I weren’t in your debt, I would still want this and you. I have for some time. But I wouldn’t have pressed my luck if not for the issue of the amulet. You were too…lofty. I know my particular talents, my dear Inquisitor, and I know the way people here see me. Last night seemed an appropriate time to put those skills to use for you.”
Arlaros nodded slowly. “First, you’re worth more than your considerable skills in bed. Second, I appreciate your honesty. Third, I would like to kiss you, if I may?”
A smile twitched across Dorian’s lips. “You may.”
Arlaros closed the short distance between them and did his best to pour his admiration, appreciation, and devotion into the kiss. It was foolish, he knew, to already feel like his life wouldn’t be complete without Dorian in it, but they had agreed to be foolish together.
When they parted, they were both smiling. “In the future, all debts should be repaid in the form of new robes or better furniture,” he joked, holding Dorian close by his waist.
Dorian chuckled and nodded. “Understood. From now on all accounts shall be settled by acquiring you a proper wardrobe and furniture.” He grinned. “Although, I can now say with confidence that you look best without any clothes at all.”
“You’re a menace.”
“I do try.”
Dorian leaned forward, and Arlaros met him halfway, sliding one hand around the back of his neck. He scratched his nails along the shorn hair of Dorian’s head, earning a gasp and taking the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Dorian’s lips glistened when he finally pulled away, and it took all his willpower not to lean back in and bite them.
“I’m glad you’re here, Dorian.”
Arlaros’s heart did a strange little flip at the gentle adoration he saw in Dorian’s eyes.
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be, amatus.”