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    Summary

    "You've mentioned that once or twice." Nearly every other day since they've been reunited. He ducks his head down to meet Dorian's gaze head on. When he is met by an abruptly sucked in breath, he feels as victorious as a young man not yet dubbed the leader of a movement only half formed when his usually fruitless flirting was returned eagerly. "Surely that can't be the only thing you like about me."

    Dorian cocks a brow. Their gaze is held between them steadily for a moment. There have been days where this is the only sure thing that existed. A real and solid foundation built on surprising trust and mutual adoration. Certainty is a precious resource, and to hold onto such a thing for so many years is a gift. "You are a raunchy and wretched little thing, Inquisitor," he clucks as he pats his hand against Theon's cheek.

    A glimpse into what ending might await Dorian and the Inquisitor many years later, AKA a self-indulgent side project so I won't work on my WIPs.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    4,727
    Chapters:
    1/2
    Comments:
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    Kudos:
    7
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