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The Iron Bull was in his head again. Not in the way Cole was, and thank the Maker that Cole wasn't with them today because while Dorian had invited questions he didn't want to discuss what was going on in his head out loud at all. There was something enticing about him. Iron Bull, infuriatingly, had caught on and called him out on it, saying that Dorian was inclined toward the forbidden. It didn't matter if Bull was right, it was in fact more aggravating that he had been. But he was more than just the brutish quanari, long time enemy of any Tevinter mage, that they'd exchanged playful barbs over. And they had been playful, to Dorian's surprise. And he was glad Cole was back in Skyhold because there was certainly something to a man as confident as Bull, especially since Bull had the strength to back up any challenge he accepted.
“Quite the stinkeye you've got going Dorian.”
Dorian hadn't realized he was staring, but it was too late now. He huffed and scowled instead of trying to deny it. “You stand there, flexing your muscles, huffing like some beast of burden, with no thought save conquest.” Dorian suppressed a wince, that had strayed a bit in a direction he hadn't intended. Iron Bull didn't even need to work at making that one dirty. Dorian was trying to brace himself for another terrible awful pun like his 'polished staff' comment of a few days prior, but what the Iron Bull actually said caught Dorian completely off guard.
“That's right. These big muscled hands could tear those robes off while you struggled, helpless in my grip. I'd pin you down, and as you gripped my horns, I would conquer you.”
Dorian's staring had gotten a bit wide-eyed and he struggled to find a proper cutting remark to toss out in reply. “Um.... what?” Eloquent, Dorian, truly eloquent, and did he squeak at the end? He wanted to bury his head in the dirt and disappear.
“Oh. Is that not where we're going?” Iron Bull sounded surprised, even though Dorian hadn't actually formed any kind of sharp retort. Dorian still didn't have one.
“No. It was very much not,” he said firmly instead. He liked Bull. He could admit it a little bit privately, and maybe he'd admitted it out loud when he was very, very drunk, enough so that he could claim no memory of how the Chargers had whooped and catcalled at what he'd said. But that was a lie, and the slow, pleased smile that had spread across Bull's face when Dorian had said it still made his stomach feel warm.
But the idea of being conquered, of being helpless, that did the opposite of warm-fuzzy feelings. He glanced at Varric, the dwarf was starting at him with something akin to concern, but before he could tell Varric to mind his own business Dorian almost walked into Lavellan.
“Why are we stop-” he started to ask and then Lavellan had brushed past him and was glaring up at The Iron Bull from just shy of the quanari's ribs.
“Don't you dare touch him,” Lavellan snarled. Dorian gaped at him, at least as surprised as The Iron Bull looked. Varric made a small sound that might have been part of a laugh, but Dorian couldn't tear his gaze from what was unfolding right in front of him, in front of everyone. “Dorian ma'falon and I will bellanaris din'an heem if you hurt him!” No one needed to be fluent in Elvhen to understand a threat when they heard one. It would have been much funnier if Dorian hadn't been so utterly mortified.
Lavellan, who had a large bruise and scrape on his forehead from walking into a tree branch an hour ago.
Lavellan, who at his most furious looked like an enraged chipmunk with puffy cheeks lined by his vallaslin.
Lavellan, who couldn't weigh a third of what Bull did soaking wet and holding all of his equipment, Lavellan who couldn't hold Iron Bull's equipment.
Lavellan was threatening The Iron Bull.
“Easy there Boss,” Iron Bull said softly, his hands held up in a placating gesture as the small archer bristled at him. “Dorian is more than capable of killing me himself I'm sure.”
“Absolutely!” Dorian snapped. “I can fight my own battles, thank you.”
“Just because you can doesn't mean you have to,” Lavellan said fervently. He was still puffed up in his leather armor, a stray leaf from the same branch as his bruise was sticking out of his scruffy mess of hair and waving gently in the breeze.
Dorian wasn't sure what to say to that. Varric was keeping out of it, but he could still see the dwarf covering a grin as he watched the three of them. Dorian wondered how fast the story would spread once they got back to Skyhold, that Iron Bull had threatened Dorian's virtue and the itty bitty Inquisitor had leapt valiantly to his rescue. Maker, he wanted to disappear.
“Aw, it's sweet that you care Boss,” Bull said. Lavellan's indignant squawk when the qunari ruffled his hair and dislodged the leaf almost made Dorian laugh despite his mortification. “But Dorian is almost deadly as he is sexy, which is very.”
Never mind, Dorian was definitely mortified again.
“I'm also right here, so can everyone stop trying to defend my honor for me? Because you're all absolutely terrible at it,” he scoffed.
Lavellan turned anxious green eyes on him then. “But-”
“Come on, let the adults sort it out,” Varric said, finally intervening to grab Lavellan's sleeve and steer him away.
“I am an adult,” Lavellan complained. He let Varric pull him off, but kept glancing over his shoulder at Dorian.
“Well that was unnecessary,” Dorian remarked, not quite waiting for the pair to be out of earshot, with two rogues like that, who really knew what 'earshot' was anyway.
“So, now that I've been thoroughly warned... is it still a 'no' on the conquering?” Iron Bull asked. Dorian snorted disdainfully.
“Absolutely not.” He hesitated, nervous, but Bull only nodded and held his hands out in a gesture that struck Dorian as being strikingly hands-off. Dorian was plenty good at looking after himself. He'd managed it for years, his whole life, through bad trysts, blackmail, and all manner of schemes. That Bull was so accommodating, even without threat of magical doom, and that he had friends who, embarrassing as it was, wanted to look after him gave him a bit of nerve he wasn't expecting. “At the very least there would have to be dinner first.”
Bull looked startled, and then that awful cocky grin that made Dorian want to hit him or kiss him was back. Maybe both at once. Definitely both at once.
“And wine,” Dorian added waspishly, trying to steer the pointless feelings away from making him so mushy. He knew better than to hope, but it was still nice to be respected and supported. Humiliatingly supported, but nonetheless supported. It was... new. And it was nice.
“Hey Boss!”
Dorian covered his face with his hands.
“Dorian and I are doin' dinner! His idea! No arrows!”
“Maker's breath I'm going to murder all of you,” Dorian growled, but even he knew he didn't mean it.