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Chapter Text

Dorian Pavus noticed Krem the day they first met, when the Inquisitor's party went to interview The Bull's Chargers on the Storm Coast. Oh, at first it wasn't anything much—just a passing interest in the cute young man with the Tevinter accent. The fact that he was a Soporati mercenary was only of passing concern; Dorian enjoyed the occasional bit of rough trade. But, once they all started back to camp, he didn't really give the boy any more thought.

That night it actually stopped raining for a few hours, so they built up a big fire and roasted a pair of giant nugs for dinner. The Chargers retrieved a couple of casks of brandy that they had left on the beach earlier in the day, and between the good food and the booze, the atmosphere became positively festive. Everyone gathered around the fire, eating, drinking, getting to know one another.

This was not long after Halward Pavus's half-arsed attempt at reconciliation with his son, and though Dorian started the evening in a relatively fine mood, the sound of the ocean soon had his mind wandering back to that horrible sea journey out from Qarinus. Thoughts of Qarinus, of course, led to thoughts of home, which led to thoughts of his deeply conflicted feelings about his father. And, of course, it was during a lull in the general chatter that Cole decided to do his mind-reading thing.

"Dorian?" He piped up, from where he was seated cross-legged on the ground on the other side of the fire. "You said I could ask… " Dorian stifled a groan. "Why does he not want you to be what you are? What else would you be?"

Dorian glanced around uncomfortably at all the faces that turned to look at him. He took a deep breath, and reminded himself that the boy was curious, and meant no harm. "You see, Cole, where I come from, there are many rules. Rules about how one is supposed to act in general and, especially, rules about how one is supposed to act in public. I was unwilling to play by those rules, and it… embarrassed him."

Cole chewed is lower lip, and twisted the hem of his left trouser leg in his hand, as he contemplated this information. "He hurt you because he was embarrassed? I don't understand."

Realizing the private nature of this conversation, everyone suddenly found something else of great interest to look at, while Dorian blushed furiously in the ensuing awkward silence. It was bad enough that the Inquisitor, and some of the inner circle, knew all the sordid details about his past. To go bandying it about in front of a bunch of mercenaries he hardly knew, was entirely too much. He worked hard to keep his voice steady. "Cole, please. Drop it."

Cole looked up, wide-eyed from under the brim of his ridiculous hat. "But, if I don't understand, I can't help," he said plaintively. "I just want to help."

"Cole!" the Inquisitor hissed, visibly startling the boy, then continued more gently, "Enough. This isn't the time."

Dorian wasn't sure if he was more grateful or embarrassed by the Inquisitor coming to his rescue. But at least Cole did drop the subject for now, and slowly, painfully, the conversation around them picked back up, and everyone moved on.

The next day, as they were riding back to Haven, Dorian hung back from the group, lost in thought. Truth be told, he was also hoping to avoid all the curious and pitying looks people were carefully not giving him. So, he was more than a little surprised when The Chargers' second in command, the cute Tevinter, dropped back to ride next to him.

He was quiet for a minute, before he turned to Dorian and said, "Tevinter, eh?"

"Tevinter," Dorian agreed.

"Don't get me wrong, I love my homeland, in many ways. But, it's not an easy place to grow up, if you don't fit the mold," the lieutenant said, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

Dorian sighed and shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. "I don't wish to be rude, but I would really rather not talk about it."

Krem glanced at him. There was a pregnant pause, as he seemed to debate with himself. Finally, he continued, "I'm just saying, I know something about… not following the rules in Tevinter. If you ever do want to talk about it, I'm around." He shrugged nonchalantly. "Or, you know, we could just talk about Cassius Magnus's chance of making it to the wrestling finals this year."

Dorian smiled, despite himself. Krem's offer was not at all what he expected from a rough and tumble mercenary. "I… Thank you. That was… kind." He'd not seen a lot of kindness in recent months. Or years, if he were really honest. He found himself reconsidering his assumptions about the man. "As to Magnus, I would say he has no chance at all. There's an up and coming fellow, out of Minrathous—Tiberius Alerio is his name—who is poised to sweep the competition this year."

"What? That poncy nug-humper with the Orlesian trainer?" Krem snorted in derision.

"I'll have you know, that Orlesian trainer is one of the best in his field. It took a Magister's ransom and a Writ of Capias to get him to Tevinter. I should know, Alario's benefactor is a friend of mine."

"Of course he is," Krem sounded both unsurprised, and amused.

And so the day passed, much quicker than Dorian expected.

To say they became fast friends would probably be an overstatement. Old ideas of class distinctions and propriety die hard, after all. But they did form a certain bond over shared experiences in their homeland. Dorian found himself joining the Chargers for drinks, once a week or so, at the Singing Maiden in Haven, and later at the Herald's Rest in Skyhold—when he wasn't being dragged out to experience first hand the bounty of unpleasant meteorologic activity at large in southern Thedas. Occasional drinks eventually expanded to a regular get-together, just the two of them, for Chess and Krem's spicy signature stew, which tasted so much like home, it made Dorian's heart ache.

One night, after several rounds at the Herald's Rest, Dorian stumbled off in search of the latrines. He found Krem there, hips canted over the communal trench, head tipped back, sighing his relief. His back stiffened, and he turned slightly away, jiggling in the universal "just finishing up" dance, as Dorian came up beside him and started loosening his trousers. He was mildly surprised when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Krem surreptitiously glancing over to check him out, as he pulled himself free. He smiled and returned the compliment, but was disappointed to find the lieutenant had already put himself away. Pity.

"See anything you like?" he asked, emboldened by drink and unwilling to let pass the opportunity to tease, if not to release some tension with an attractive young man.

"I'm just surprised you do anything as vulgar as taking a piss, Altus," Krem answered smoothly. "I would have thought you'd just magic all your waste away."

Dorian barked out a laugh. "And deny you the chance to sneak a peek? I would never be so cruel."

Krem snorted. "If I wanted to see your cock, I wouldn't hang around in a dirty latrine, hoping you'd come by and pull it out." He turned to face Dorian head-on, stepping so close his chest almost touched Dorian's shoulder, and continued in a low, seductive voice. "I'd take you back behind the Herald's Rest, push you up against the wall, and offer to suck you off." And, having dropped that mental image into Dorian's head, he spun around and left. Dorian decided maybe he could wait to relieve himself. He had more urgent needs to attend to, now.

Chapter Text

Dorian watched the Chargers training in the courtyard below, from his window in the library. Bull came charging at Krem, crouched low behind his shield. Krem braced for impact, but at the last moment he spun away, allowing Bull's momentum to carry him past as he swung around and delivered a devastating blow to the massive Qunari's back with the flat of his wooden sword. Bull flexed his shoulders, then turned and slapped Krem companionably on the shoulder before they got back into position, and did it all again.

Dorian sighed. Vishante kaffas. What the blight was he doing, spying on Krem like a schoolboy with a crush? And, yes, if he were honest with himself, that's exactly what this was. He had actually developed a crush on the young soldier. He sighed again. He had always enjoyed Krem's company; He was easy-going, and funny, and certainly easy on the eye. But, ever since that evening at the latrines, he'd found himself looking at Krem in an entirely different light. Now, there was an undercurrent of sexual desire that went beyond his usual idle interest in attractive men. For one thing, he just couldn't get that mental image out of his head. It wasn't so much the thought of Krem sucking him off that got him going—though he had to admit, that certainly had its appeal—it was the way he had so aggressively stepped into Dorian's personal space, and the casual confidence with which he had called out Dorian's flirtatious teasing. I'd take you behind the Heralds Rest, push you up against the wall… Dorian's stomach flipped at the memory. Just this morning, as he took care of his usual morning arousal, he had found himself imagining Krem giving him much more than a blow job up against the wall behind the tavern. Worse, even after he had finished, the longing continued.

Well, there was nothing for it. He was just going to have to get this out of his system.

That evening, just before dusk, Dorian went searching for Krem, and found him still practicing on the dummies outside the forge. He watched him run through a complicated combination of slashes, thrusts, and parries, pause, reset, repeat. His hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat, his cheeks slightly flushed. The look of absolute concentration on his face was… rather breathtaking, really.

Dorian leaned, consciously casual, against the wall of the Herald's Rest, and watched. It wasn't until Krem was shaking with exhaustion, and barely able to lift his sword, that he finally turned away, sheathed his weapon, and started walking in Dorian's direction. He was rubbing his head with an old towel, making the damp hair stand up adorably in a crest across the top of his head. He didn't even seem to notice Dorian, who waited until he was only a few feet away before speaking.

"I would have let you, you know."

Krem's head popped up, with a look of mild alarm. But, he recovered quickly, giving Dorian a bemused smile. "Would have let me what?"

"I would have let you take me behind the Herald's Rest," Dorian answered, putting just the slightest emphasis on the word "take."

Krem's smile twisted into a smirk, and he straightened up and slung the towel over one shoulder. He stepped up close to Dorian, eyes both challenging and amused. "Would you, now? What else would you let me do?"

Dorian swallowed. The massive bulk of Krem in full armor was both thrilling, and a little bit intimidating, this close. Mostly thrilling. Nevertheless, he took a step backward. "What did you have in mind?" he asked, tucking his chin and looking up through his eyelashes.

Krem shifted to the left and took another step forward. "Well, let me think about it for a moment," he said, putting his hand to his chin and gripping his elbow, as if in deep contemplation. His eyes flicked briefly to some point behind Dorian, and the corner of his lips twitched.

Dorian took another step, back. He drew up a mental picture of his surroundings, trying to figure out what Krem had seen behind him. Oh, of course. He was herding Dorian toward the little alcove tucked away behind the tavern. Dorian's saucy grin widened, and he decided to make things easier on the Lieutenant. Slowly, and oh-so-casually, he started backing toward that private niche. Krem matched his own pace to Dorian's, keeping the space between them intimately narrow.

Krem continued, "What if… I slowly undid every one of those silly buckles, opened up your robes, and feasted my eyes on your body, right here in the courtyard?"

Dorian's breath caught and his heartbeat sped up. "That sounds like a reasonable start," he answered, as nonchalantly as he could. "I certainly couldn't blame you. I am exquisite to behold."

He backed around the corner, out of sight of everything except the requisitions office. Krem dropped his voice. "And, what if I then pulled your breeches down around your thighs, so I could see how hard and needy you were getting?"

Warmth flooded Dorian's belly. He was, indeed, getting hard. "All this looking, and no touching?" he chastised. "Seems like a wasted opportunity."

Krem's voice became more sultry. "Oh, there'd be touching. But you'd have to wait for it. Do you think you could do that?"

Dorian's back hit the rear wall of the tiny alcove they had been aiming toward, and Krem put his hands up on the stone to either side of Dorian's head, effectively blocking him in. "I don't know, Lieutenant. I am not a patient man." Dorian's gaze slid down to Krem's lips, signaling his desire to be kissed.

The Lieutenant's voice dropped almost to a whisper. "No? Would you like to be touched now?"

Dorian released a breath he hadn't even been aware he was holding. "Yes, please," he sighed.

Krem smiled devilishly. "Well, since you asked so politely." He leaned forward and kissed him, oh so gently, teasingly. Dorian tried to lean into the kiss, but Krem pulled back, just out of reach, making Dorian whimper in frustration. Once Dorian gave up the chase, though, Krem's mouth was back on his again, pressing harder, this time. Krem's tongue teased at his lips, and Dorian let him in. His hands came up to rest on Krem's shoulders, the iron pauldrons feeling huge and cold to the touch. Krem's hands dropped down to Dorian's hips, then slid around to squeeze his behind. Dorian pressed his erection against Krem's leg, and wondered, vaguely, if he could feel it through all that leather and padding.

Apparently he could, because he moved his leg out of the way, and slid his hand back around to grip Dorian's cock through his clothes. Dorian grunted, and pressed himself into it. Krem chuckled, kissed his way across Dorian's jaw and nibbled his earlobe. "Someone's enjoying himself," he murmured, grinning against Dorian's ear. He rubbed Dorian's cock, making him squirm. "What would you like me to do about this? Should I just make you come in your pants?"

The thought of coming in his pants, like some horny teenager, made something uncomfortable, but not entirely unpleasant squirm through Dorian's gut. He shook his head. Too distracted by the tongue in his ear to form words.

"No? Then what do you want?" Krem's other hand had crept up to toy with one of Dorian's nipples, and Dorian arched into the touch.

What he wanted was to be fucked into the wall, right fucking now. But he had failed to plan far enough ahead to bring any sort of lubricant, so instead he did his best to regain his composure enough to think and panted, "I seem to… Oh!… recall something about… oh, kaffas… an offer to… nngh… suck me off." He threw his head back, and his eyes rolled up as Krem nibbled his neck and gave him a squeeze.

"Hmmm. Yes, I remember something about that, too." He released Dorian's cock to start working the buckles at the bottom of his robes. Dorian felt both relief and loss at the withdrawn touch. "Have you been thinking about it all this time?" Krem asked.

"I've hardly thought of anything else," Dorian answered, too turned on to be embarrassed by the admission at this point.

Having unfastened the robes up to the waist, Krem knelt and drew them open, like curtains. He tucked the tails out of the way, behind Dorian's hips, then turned his attention to the laces on Dorian's breeches. Dorian shivered at the feeling of Krem's rough, leather gloves, and the cold metal edge of his gauntlets on his hips as he tugged the breeches down far enough to free Dorian's cock.

Krem looked up at Dorian and grinned, then slowly ran his tongue all the way from the base to the tip. He swirled his tongue once around the head, pausing to tease back and forth across that sensitive spot just under the crown. Dorian had one hand braced against the wall, and he let the other caress and toy with Krem's sweat-damp hair, resisting the urge to grab a handful. Krem licked down one side of Dorian's cock, and back up the other, leaving the whole thing slick with saliva, before swirling his tongue around the head again.

"Kaffas!" Dorian breathed.

"Such a mouth on you!" Krem mock-complained, carefully wrapping one armored hand around the base of Dorian's prick.

Dorian laughed, a little giddy, "Just what I was thinking." His wry smile fell open into a wanton oh, as Krem sucked Dorian in, up to his fist. "Kaffas!" he whispered again, with more vigor.

Krem sucked his cheeks in and drew his head back, allowing his hand to follow, until just the head remained in his mouth. His grip was light, but the feel of the rough leather was too much. Dorian hissed and squirmed. Krem frowned, apparently recognizing the problem, and released Dorian long enough to remove his gauntlets and gloves.

Now that his hands were bare, and he no longer risked doing Dorian damage, he used one to gently cup and massage Dorian's balls, while his tongue lapped and lubricated his shaft. With the other, he gripped Dorian's cock firmly, then started sucking him in earnest. Soft lips and tongue were followed by calloused palm and fingers, the contrast causing a frisson of pleasure to fire up Dorian's cock and into his belly, building with each stroke. It wasn't long before he could feel his orgasm rapidly approaching. He tapped Krem's shoulder frantically, "Oh! I… I'm going to… Ah!"

Krem just picked up the pace. A few more strokes and Dorian came so hard he felt the blood drain from his head, leaving him lightheaded, vision sparkling. His legs suddenly felt quite wobbly, and it was only by leaning hard on Krem's shoulders that he kept from sliding down the wall. Krem continued to suckle him through the first few aftershocks, then, seeing Dorian's predicament, he stood and wrapped his arms around him, holding him up, giving him the support he needed until he could get his feet back under himself.

After what seemed like an age, Dorian recovered enough to pull himself upright. He was still trembling a little.

"You good?" asked Krem, smiling.

"Oh, yes. More than good. Thank you." Dorian glanced at Krem's crotch, trying to work out the best way under the armor, while he pulled his breeches back up. He started to drop to his knees, but Krem grabbed his elbow.

"Whoa, where are you going, mage? I thought we had you safely back on your feet."

Dorian blinked. "Oh. I… Didn't you want me to…?"

An odd look passed over Krem's face, and he glanced around, as if to see who might be watching. He shook his head. "Nah, I'm good. Are we still on for Chess on Friday?"

Dorian looked at him incredulously. There were plenty of times he had sucked a man off, without reciprocation, but he had never had one turn him down. He shifted uncomfortably. Even for a quick tryst, he never wanted to be one of those selfish lovers who took but never gave. He especially didn't want to leave a friend hanging—or not hanging, as the case may be. But Krem, for some reason, was clearly not comfortable with the idea of Dorian returning the favor, so he let it go and promised himself he'd find a way to make it up to him.

"Yes, yes. Of course," he answered, tucking himself back in, as casually as possible. "Drinks tomorrow?"

Krem barely looked at him as he gathered his discarded gloves and gauntlets. "You know where to find me," he replied. And he strode off in the gathering darkness, leaving Dorian to finish putting himself back together.

Chapter Text

As enjoyable as it had been, yesterday's brief interlude behind the Herald's Rest had not managed to purge Dorian of his obsession with Krem. If anything, it had stoked the fires. Now that he was reasonably assured that the attraction was mutual, he was determined to get the man into bed for a proper fucking. And, he had a plan.

It was his usual night for drinks with the Chargers, and after a couple rounds, he decided to put his plan into motion.

Dorian put his mouth next to Krem's ear, so he could be heard over the noisy chatter in the Herald's Rest. "Have you, by any chance, been to your room lately?"

Krem looked suspicious. "Not since this morning. Why?"

Dorian licked his lips and grinned. "There's something waiting for you there, that I think you might find interesting." He gave the young man a significant look.

Krem studied his face for a long moment, one eyebrow raised. Then, without a word, he stood up and left.

Dorian watched him go, allowing himself to enjoy the view as he went.

The Iron Bull caught his eye from across the table. "What was that all about?"

Dorian shrugged, all innocence. "I can't imagine. Perhaps, I had better go check on him, hadn't I?" he said with an airy smile, and followed Krem out the door.

Dorian caught up with Krem just before he reached his quarters. The soldier stepped back against the wall as he entered, to give Dorian room, and Dorian closed the door behind them. He watched with amusement as Krem's eyes flicked around the sparse room, taking in the bed, neatly made with military precision, the dresser, devoid of all clutter and nick-knacks, the armor stand, the trunk in the corner, the tiny table and two chairs where they played Chess. Even the fireplace was swept clean, logs laid ready for a fire, cook-pot hanging on its usual hook. A place for everything, and everything, most definitely, in its place. He turned to face Dorian, arms folded across his chest, a look of wary amusement on his face. "Alright, Pavus, what's your game?"

Dorian stepped in front of Krem, putting one hand on the wall next to his head and leaned in close. "I've been thinking…" he started.

"Yeah, see, that's what always gets you in trouble," interrupted Krem, eyes sparkling.

Dorian's mustache twitched in amusement. "Yes, well, be that as it may, I've been thinking that, whatever this… thing between us has been, I would like it to go further, if you are so inclined. I've made it no secret that I find you rather attractive." He put his other hand lightly on Krem's hip. "And, as much as I enjoyed yesterday evening, I feel I'd like to explore something a little more… mutually satisfying."

The corner of Krem's mouth quirked. "Are you asking me if I want to bump uglies with you?"

Dorian snorted. "What an inviting way of putting it. But, yes. How do you feel about 'bumping uglies' with me?"

The young man regarded him for a long moment. He seemed to be having some sort of inner debate. About the time Dorian was starting to wonder if this had been a terrible mistake, Krem finally unfolded his arms, put his hands around Dorian's waist, and pull him into a kiss. Not exactly the instant, enthusiastic response Dorian had been hoping for, but it would do. He leaned into the kiss, and was pleased when Krem opened his mouth to his probing tongue and slid his hands down to squeeze Dorian's ass. Dorian pulled him closer, running one hand down to return the favor, while the other slid up his spine to cup the back of his neck. He bit gently at Krem's lower lip, before chasing after his tongue once more. Their heavy breathing echoed off the stone walls of the tiny room. He could feel himself getting hard, and wondered if the effect was mutual, so he pushed his knee up to Krem's crotch to try to gauge the other man's interest. Only, instead of a hard prick, or even the yielding bulk of a soft one, he found… nothing. Puzzled, he pulled back to give Krem an inquiring look.

Krem was arched back against the wall, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, kiss-swollen lips slightly parted. Despite his current state of confusion, Dorian had to appreciate the sight. After a beat, Krem opened his eyes. When he saw the look on Dorian's face his whole body slumped, and his head fell forward onto his chest.

"Fuck," was all he said. He pushed himself back up the wall until he was standing upright, dropping his hands to his side. With a look of resignation on his face, he shook his head and returned his gaze to Dorian. "You didn't know, did you?"

Dorian had an inkling of what Krem was going to say, although he was still debating between "battle injury" and "like Mae, but the other way", when he asked, "Didn't know what, exactly?"

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck a duck," Krem muttered, kicking the wall behind him for emphasis. "I knew this was a bad idea." He sighed and glanced at Dorian once more. "I'm sorry. I thought you knew. Or, maybe, I just wanted to think you knew." He shook his head. "Anyway, I usually only date people who swing both ways, but… well. You don't need me stroking your ego; You know how hot you are. I suppose... I just got carried away."

Ah. Mae it was, then. Dorian studied Krem. Now that he knew what to look for, he could see the signs. The slope of his brow. The faint lines around his eyes that suggested he was older than he appeared. The patch of fine, downy hair at the corner of his jaw, that he had missed shaving.

"So, what you're saying is, you…" Dorian worked to find a way to put it that wouldn't sound condescending or insulting, "You weren't born a boy?"

Krem shook his head and looked down. "But, you know, being a girl never fit. I just… I couldn't live that life. I don't really expect you to understand."

Dorian smiled sadly and touched Krem's arm. "You might be surprised. Believe it or not, I know a thing or two about not being able to live the life that's been assigned to you. About spending your life, screaming on the inside, until you just… can't anymore." He smiled ironically. "About not following the rules in Tevinter."

He considered what it would be like, to be trapped in a body that didn't fit who you were. Looking back on those last few days before the attempted blood ritual, when he was confined to his rooms—without even knowing what was in store for him, just knowing he was locked in—he had been consumed by a terrible, desperate panic that ate him from the inside. What must it be like to have to take your prison everywhere you went, never able to escape it?

Krem laughed darkly, "Yeah, well, welcome to the Deviant Tevinter Rejects Club." His tone grew more somber, and he looked at Dorian earnestly. "Seriously, though. Thank you. For understanding. You could have been a dick about it."

Dorian hated the thought of anyone being a dick to Krem over this. Not that he thought the man couldn't take it. He was hard as nails, and could take anything. Still, he shouldn't have to, and it made his heart ache to think that he did. "Have there been many?" he asked. "Who have been dicks about it?"

Krem shrugged. "Not many. A few. Worse is when I get clocked by some drunk at a bar, who wants to make it everyone's business, and I have to break some noses, before people get ideas. Haven't had to put up with that shit too much since I joined the Chargers, though."

Dorian smiled, impressed by the iron will behind the words. Krem glared intensely at a point somewhere behind Dorian—not the angry glare of a schoolboy with a chip on his shoulder, but the determined glare of a man who knows he is in the right, and can take down anyone who dares to cross him. He exuded confidence in a way that Dorian still found very attractive, indeed. It occurred to him, then, that having only ever known Krem as a man, despite what he had just learned, his perception of him hadn't really changed—nor had his attraction. Though some of the specifics, admittedly, made him a little nervous, he still considered Krem a handsome man… with very kissable lips.

Dorian licked his own lips, then ventured, "For what it's worth, I would still be interested in…" he paused, wondering if this was the right time to suggest this.

Krem raised an eyebrow. "Bumping uglies?" he suggested.

Dorian gave him a pained look. "I was going to say, being with you. But, yes. Sex would definitely be on the menu, if you are interested."

Krem scowled. "I don't need your pity sex, Altus."

Taken aback, Dorian assured him, "That's not what I'm offering. My… attraction to you hasn't changed, and I would be most interested in… exploring that."

The mercenary gave him a sideways look. His expression softened some, though it was still guarded. Finally, he asked, "So, if we did, would you want to top or bottom?"

Dorian blinked. He hadn't really been expecting a choice, at this point. "I, well… If you were to top, how would that work, exactly?"

Chapter Text

Krem gave him a small smile, then crooked his finger in a "follow me" gesture. He led Dorian across the room to the dresser, and opened the top drawer. From the drawer he pulled a leather harness, which he tossed on the bed. He then started laying out a long row of prosthetic penises across the top of the dresser. What would you call that? Dorian wondered. A plethora of penises? A phalanx of phalli? A peck of peckers? He stifled a laugh at his own musings, and stepped forward to take a closer look. They ranged from a slim rod, made of dawnstone, that would be suitable for the tightest virgin, to a rather ridiculously large, and decidedly non-human, sculpted and lacquered wooden cock that had him both intrigued and terrified.

"Is this Qunari?" he asked, as he picked up the monster cock and weighed it experimentally in his hand.

Krem snorted. "Well, somebody's idea of one, anyway. I can tell you, it's not very accurate."

Dorian's eyebrows shot up. "You mean… you and Bull?"

Krem shrugged. "We blow off steam every so often. Nothing serious."

Dorian turned his attention back to the display of dicks. "Well. I see there are some distinct advantages to this arrangement," he said, in unfeigned awe.

Krem smirked, then moved around behind him and put his hands on Dorian's hips. He pressed his mouth right up against Dorian's ear and whispered, "You want to know another one? I can fuck you, non-stop. All. Night. Long."

Dorian shivered at the feel of hot, moist breath in his ear. His eyes fluttered shut, and he nearly missed when he went to put the giant dildo back on the dresser. Peeling his eyes open again, he made a grab for the third-largest in the row—a heavily veined, silverite phallus that looked to be challenging, but manageable—and eagerly shoved it over his shoulder at Krem. "Let's use this one."

Krem laughed as he took it. "You know, you don't have to pick just one. I'm thinking, we should start out easy, and then see just how far we can stretch you out from there. Sound good?"

Dorian's cock perked up in his pants at the idea, and he turned around to voice its agreement. They kissed. This time it was Krem whose tongue set to exploring every inch of Dorian's mouth. He opened himself eagerly to it, while his hands explored, squeezing firm buttocks, caressing solid thighs, moving around front to press into rock hard abs. He hesitated, then nervously started to slide his hands up toward Krem's chest. He honestly wasn't sure how he would react to Krem's breasts. In general he found breasts a bit… ugh, for want of a better word. Krem grabbed his wrists, and took half a step back. He gave a short, sharp shake of his head, looking him in the eye, lips pressed tightly together. Dorian was slightly ashamed at the relief he felt at being stopped, but his feelings on the matter were neither kind, nor helpful, so he carefully schooled his face into nonchalance as he nodded his acquiescence.

Krem released him to put his hands on Dorian's shoulders and pressed forward, walking him backwards until the back of his knees touched the edge of the mattress. He gave the mage a firm shove that sent him sprawling across the bed. Looming over Dorian, hands on hips, he grinned wickedly, and said, "Alright, Pavus. Strip."

Dorian had the first buckle open before he even realized what he was doing. Then, a thought occurred to him, and he slowed. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he licked his lips and asked, tentatively, "May I ask a favor?"

Krem arched an eyebrow. "What favor?"

"I was wondering, if you might be willing to…" He paused to swallow and clear his throat. "…willing to put on your armor."

Krem's lips twitched in amusement, "My armor. Why?"

Dorian felt his cheeks heat up. "Well, you see, I've always had, what I suppose one might term a… a fantasy." He swallowed again. "I've always had this desire to be… ravished… by a warrior in full armor."

Krem's eyes narrowed. "Is this some sort of fetish for you? 'Cuz, you know it's going to be uncomfortable, and awkward as fuck, right?" His tone was one of long-suffering exasperation, but the look on his face suggested he was actually a bit pleased.

"No, not a fetish, per se. I am quite certain I'll be able to perform, even if you turn me down. It's more of an unfulfilled desire."

"Ah. So, another tick on your sexual bucket list, then." Krem was grinning openly at him, now.

Dorian smiled back. "Yes, you might say that."

"Alright. But I'm not wearing the helmet. And I want you naked by the time I have my pauldrons on."

"No helmet," Dorian agreed, as he reached for the next strap.

Dorian had his robes open, and was working on his left boot, when Krem glanced up from fastening his greaves and asked, "Did you really not know? At all?"

Dorian paused. "Ah, well, in my defense, it's not what one expects, is it? And you are very tall. And very handsome. And I saw you in the latrines… how, does that work, anyway?"

Krem grinned and stood up. He started unlacing his trousers, looking Dorian straight in the eye, with a seductive smile. Dorian watched curiously, strangely aroused despite knowing that there was no stallion waiting in the stable, so to speak. Krem fumbled around inside his pants, and pulled out something surreptitiously concealed in the palm of his hand. Rolling his hand over, he revealed a tube, slightly shorter than the length of his palm and fingers combined, wrapped in leather, with a scoop at one end.

"I started making these when I was still a kid. Took a while to learn to use it, without making a mess of myself. It won't pass close scrutiny, but it looks fine out of the corner of the eye." He gave Dorian a significant look. "So long as certain mages don't try to get an eyeful in the latrines, that is."

"You started it," Dorian answered, unabashed. "Anyway, you had it put away before I had the chance."

Krem snorted and reached for the harness on the bed, next to Dorian. From the top drawer of the dresser he pulled a rather wicked looking metal hook-like thing, as big around as a well-hung man, and covered in various bulges and textures. Dorian's eyes must have gone a bit wide, because Krem smirked at him and said, "Don't worry. This is for me, not for you. Dagna made it for me." He attached the odd-looking device to the back side of the harness base plate. "Makes it more fun for me, while I'm fucking you." He shoved his trousers down to his knees, spread his legs, and started easing the hook up inside himself, with a little wince.

"Dagna, eh?" Dorian asked, aware that his voice sounded strangely tight and high-pitched. He was torn between watching, fascinated, and looking away in embarrassment. He couldn't look away.

Krem got the thing situated, with the broad base plate of the harness sitting comfortably on his pubic bone, and started buckling the wide leather straps around his waist and thighs. "Yeah. Sera suggested it. Apparently, Dagna's developing quite the side business making sex toys for all the pervs of Skyhold." He grinned, pulling his trousers back up around his hips.

"I imagine Harrit is thrilled," Dorian deadpanned. He shook his head to clear it, then started taking off his other boot.

"Oh, I think he's glad to have her out of his hair—heh, so to speak—and working on her own projects. Though, he does get a bit pissy when she leaves dildos lying around the shop." He picked up the one Dorian had chosen earlier. "This is the one you wanted to aim for, right?" At Dorian's nod, he fastened it in place.

Dorian had to admit, it made quite the striking image: The handsome Tevinter soldier, standing there with his tight leather trousers unlaced and a large, gleaming, silverite cock sticking out at an obscene angle. Even if they never did this again, he was sure he would be using this mental image for his own gratification for some time.

Now barefoot, Dorian shrugged out of his robes. The chill air immediately sent goose pimples crawling across his skin. "Do you mind if I light the fire?" he asked.

Krem, who was half-way into his hauberk, with his arms up in the air, mumbled a muffled go-ahead.

Dorian tossed a casual fire spell at the logs, then moved to stand next to the fire, while he worked the laces on his leather trousers.

He looked up when he heard Krem mutter, "Well, that's going to be a problem."

The bottom hem of the hauberk was caught on the silverite dildo, and the stiff, quilted fabric, with its bits of chain mail and plate, would not bend, leaving Krem stuck with the collar jammed up under his nose, and his arms pinned halfway in the air. Dorian laughed out loud. Krem glared at him, and flapped about, trying to get the leverage to pull it back up over his head.

"Wait! Hold still, let me help you." Dorian grabbed the sleeves and pulled, and Krem backed his way out of the garment. Dorian got a glimpse of chiseled abs and a tightly laced half-vest as Krem's shirt got pulled up, but Krem pulled it back down as soon as his hands were free. He was flushed and sweaty, and glared at Dorian with pretend malice.

"This is all your fault, Altus. You and your stupid fetish." But, his lips were twitching with suppressed laughter.

As for Dorian, he couldn't stop laughing. Every time he started to get a grip on himself, he'd picture Krem flapping around blindly with his arms in the air, and his gleaming erection waving about, and would dissolve into another fit of giggles. Pretty soon Krem was laughing as well, and the two of them collapsed on the bed together, feeding off each other's mirth. Eventually they calmed down.

With a sigh and an, "Oh, dear!" Dorian sat up, looked at his friend and smiled fondly. "Well, it was a nice idea. Thank you for trying, at least."

Krem sat up, too, and grabbed Dorian's forearm. "Oh, I'm not done," he assured him. "I think I have something else that would work." He jumped up, and started rummaging around in the bottom drawer of the dresser. With a satisfied exclamation, he stood and held up a chain mail hauberk in one hand, and gestured, dramatically, with the other at the split that ran up the front of the garment at the crotch. "See? What did I tell you? Designed for riding. We'll get that bucket list of yours taken care of yet, you just wait."

Dorian quirked an eyebrow. "Oh? You're offering to help with the whole list, now, are you? Sight unseen, even. How very brave."

Krem didn't answer, he just winked and shimmied into the chain mail, which fell into place with a soft cascade of clinks. "Perfect," he exclaimed happily, when he saw how the mail fell on either side of his silver cock, framing it like it was a planned part of the outfit.

Dorian smirked as he considered what a dangerously distracting addition that would be to standard-issue armor. Maybe if, by some miracle, he ever became Archon, he'd institute that change.

Krem shook him out of his reverie, "I'm going to skip the gauntlets; I want to be able to touch you, properly. Pauldrons are going on next. You have about two minutes to get those breeches off, mage."

Dorian's cock stirred back to life in his pants. "And if I don't?" he asked.

Krem didn't even bat an eye. "Maybe, I'll put you over my knee and spank you."

Dorian's breath caught, and he was sorely tempted to test him, to see if he really would. But instead, he went to work undoing the rest of the laces, and shedding his trousers. By the time Krem's pauldrons were in place, Dorian was, indeed, standing naked before the fully armored warrior.

Chapter Text

Dorian shivered as it hit him how incredibly vulnerable he felt. When faced with that mass of leather and iron, he felt even more naked than naked, and it left him both excited, and a little nervy. Not that he let the nervousness show, of course. Nearly thirty years of training wasn't lost that easily. But, there was little he could do about the obvious interest his cock was taking in the situation.

Krem stood close, boots giving him a slight height advantage, and let his eyes roam appreciatively all over Dorian's body. "Well, well. Who knew you had so much muscle under those robes, mage. Turn around, so I can see the other side."

Dorian felt his face flush as he obediently turned around to let the merc ogle him from behind.

Krem whistled appreciatively. "That is one of the nicest arses I think I've ever seen." He stepped even closer, caressing the globes of said arse, then took hold of Dorian's hips, and slid his massive cock between Dorian's thighs. It bumped the back of Dorian's balls. The mage jumped at the sudden cold, but stilled when Krem murmured close to his ear, "I'm really looking forward to filling that arse of yours, and seeing how much I can stretch it out." He glanced over Dorian's shoulder at his rapidly filling dick, and chuckled. "I see you are, too."

Dorian closed his eyes and became aware of every texture that was touching his naked flesh: The cool, buttery softness of Krem's leather trousers, where his knee was pressed against the back of Dorian's thigh; the rough laces, framed by icy chain mail, against his ass; soft, hot hands caressing his hips and thighs, and sliding across his belly, contrasting with the cold, hard metal of Krem's cock between his legs. Krem's voice was low and seductive in his ear, as he continued, "Judging by the monster you picked for me to fuck you with, I'm guessing we can skip the smallest cock, yeah?"

It took a second for Dorian to find his voice. "It's been a while, but I think so, yes."

"Good. I think you're going to like the first one I've picked out, then. It's… different."

That piqued Dorian's interest. He tried to remember what he had seen of Krem's cock collection, but none of them stood out as being especially unique. Well, other than that great bestial one, but surely he wouldn't start with that? "Have you been holding out on me, Lieutenant?" he asked.

He could hear the wicked grin in Krem's voice when he answered, "Oh, yeah. I have one or two surprises left for you, don't worry. You have no idea how long I've been wanting to get my hands on you, Altus. I want to slowly take you apart, and leave you a quivering mess, brought to heel and completely undone by a lowly Soporati soldier. Would you like that?"

Dorian felt a pool of heat fill his belly at the words, and his voice quivered when he answered, "Yes, please."

Krem kissed his neck and ran his hands across Dorian's chest. Nimble fingers traced circles around his nipples, pinched and pulled at them. Dorian gasped and arched his back, pressing his chest into the touch, then flinched away when his shoulder blades touched cold chain mail. Krem wrapped his arms around the mage's torso, and pulled him back, hugging him against his chest. Dorian shivered and squirmed as his whole back was suddenly chilled against the metal. It was horrible, and yet strangely exciting. Once again, he was reminded of how utterly naked and vulnerable he was. As the metal slowly warmed under his skin, he relaxed and turned his focus to the attention being paid to his nipples, and the nibbling kisses being laid along his jugular. He leaned his head back on Krem's shoulder, allowing him better access to his neck. Krem took that as an invitation to bring one hand up and wrap it around his throat—not squeezing, just holding him still. Dorian shivered again, for entirely different reasons than before. He reached one hand up to caress Krem's hair, and the other back to squeeze his thigh.

Krem started walking toward the bed, urging Dorian along in front of him. When Dorian's knees touched the mattress, Krem took hold of Dorian's hip with one hand, and put his other hand between his shoulder blades. He pushed Dorian forward until he had him in the position he wanted—knees straight, bent at the waist, ass pushed high in the air, then took a step back and gave Dorian's rump a playful slap. "Stay," he commanded, before turning to rummage in the dresser once more.

Dorian leaned his forehead on his folded arms, enjoying the light stinging on his behind, and resisted the urge to turn around to see what surprise Krem had in store for him. His cock twitched in anticipation, and his nipples still tingled from the earlier stimulation. A moment later Krem was back behind him.

"Pull your cheeks open for me, mage," Krem ordered, and Dorian complied, getting goosebumps when cold air hit his exposed bud. He felt his entrance twitch involuntarily when a drizzle of oil hit it and ran down his crack. The oil tickled down the back of his balls, before Krem scooped up the excess with his thumb and started massaging little circles around Dorian's hole. Dorian hummed his approval.

"Do you want to see what I'm going to open you up with?" Krem asked.

"Yes, please," Dorian answered, his voice breathy with arousal. He turned his head to look over his shoulder, still trying to maintain his position.

Krem showed him the thing he had taken out of the drawer. It was unlike anything Dorian had ever seen before, more metal sculpture than cock: Four stacked balls, each slightly bigger than the one before. The first was, perhaps, the size of a large grape, and the last the size of an average plum. He was already imagining the way his hole would stretch and contract around each bulb as it moved in and out of him. His prick grew impossibly harder.

"Are you ready?" Krem asked, slicking the strange object with oil.

Dorian nodded eagerly, wiggling his hips and pushing his ass back in anticipation, as he pressed his forehead back down on the mattress. "Oh, yes," he breathed.

The first knob slipped in easily. The second was just big enough that he started to feel the stretch. Krem fucked it in and out of him a few times, making Dorian groan with pleasure, before he started to slowly push the third one home. Dorian sucked in a breath, wincing at the burn. Maker, it had been a while. Krem eased the pressure and gave him a moment to adjust, while he rubbed Dorian's lower back with his free hand. Dorian took a deep breath and managed to relax enough for the third knob to pop past his sphincter.

"How're you doing there, Dorian?" Krem asked, moving his free hand to stroke the outside of Dorian's thigh.

"Good," he managed to respond, though his voice was high and tight, and his legs were starting to shake from the strain of holding such an awkward position.

With a final squeeze, Krem released Dorian's thigh. He placed one warm hand on the base of Dorian's spine, and with the other, he slowly pulled the dildo back, stopping at the widest point. Out was always easier than in, and the pleasure far outweighed the pain at this point. Dorian moaned softly and stretched up onto his toes for a moment, before settling back down with a needy whimper.

Krem's voice was husky, "I wish you could see yourself right now," he said. "Bent over, trembling, holding your arse open for me, hole stretched tight. Maker, but you're beautiful." He pulled the toy out until only the first knob remained, then pushed it back in until the third was, once again, seated in place. He repeated the move a few more times, pulling out slowly, then pushing back in hard and fast. Dorian made desperate, little grunts each time a knob stretched him open on the way out, and cried out on the way back in. His legs were shaking harder, now, and it was with some relief that he heard Krem say, "Why don't you climb up on the bed? You can let go of your cheeks. That's it. Spread your legs a bit more. There you go. Stretch out your arms."

He continued to direct, still holding the dildo half-burried in Dorian's passage, until Dorian was positioned: on his knees, legs spread wide, chest and cheek pressed into the mattress, back arched, fingers gripping the opposite edge of the bed, knuckles against the wall. Krem adjusted his grip, the new angle allowing one of the knobs to grind down into Dorian's sweet spot, making him moan, hips bucking involuntarily whenever Krem moved his hand.

"I'm going to try for the last one, now" Krem warned him. Dorian whimpered as the stretch grew more intense. "You can do it." Krem soothed. "My dick's bigger than this, you know. If you want my dick, you're gonna have to take this last knob. There you go. Almost there."

Dorian bore down on the intruder, pushing himself open until it finally sank into place inside him. Krem gave him a moment to get used to the new diameter, then slowly started fucking him again. As Dorian relaxed into it, he picked up speed. The undulating motion of the knobs stretching and releasing him, combined with the way they bumped over his prostate, had Dorian writhing and moaning in no time. His cock was smearing pre-come on his stomach as it twitched and bobbed beneath him. He was so close. His breath grew fast and ragged as he felt the pressure building in his balls. But, just as he was on the brink of tipping over, Krem pulled the toy all the way out, leaving Dorian feeling shockingly empty. His hips jerked helplessly in the air, as he tried to chase down the orgasm that was denied to him.

He gasped, and made a grab for himself, desperate to bring himself to completion. But, Krem was quicker, throwing himself across Dorian's back and pinning his wrists against the bed on either side of his head. Dorian bucked and squirmed, but in this position he had too little leverage to escape.

"Oh, no, you don't, Altus," growled Krem. "I'm not done with you, yet. You don't get to come until I say you do." The denial made something warm and sweetly aching slither through Dorian's gut teasing a groan from him, and his struggling subsided. Krem continued more gently, "Anyway, you don't want to be spent before I've even had the chance to put my cock in you, do you?" Dorian sobbed and shook his head, as best he could against the mattress. Krem's voice softened with concern, "Is it too much, Dorian? Do you want to stop?"

Dorian shook his head again, more vehemently. He made a conscious effort to unclench his fists, and he felt Krem's grip on his wrists loosen just a little. Krem's weight across his back was comforting, grounding. He kissed the back of Dorian's neck, then bit it—not hard enough to bruise, but just hard enough to be sharp, bringing Dorian's attention back from his straining cock. Dorian's breath started to even out, as he relaxed under the pressure.

Krem continued talking him down, murmuring softly in his ear, "That's it. Relax. It's going to feel so good when you finally get to come." Dorian shivered at the feel of kisses laid down the back of his neck and across his shoulders. Krem's voice was rough with desire. "You have no idea what this is doing to me. Seeing you here, pinned to the mattress, desperate for my cock. Are you ready for me to give it to you? Are you ready to take me?"

Dorian nodded and whispered, "Yes. Yes, please. Please."

"Please what?" Krem whispered back.

"Please, fuck me," Dorian whimpered.

"Are you going to be good if I let you go?"

"Yes. Yes, I'll be good. I'll be so good." Dorian was vaguely aware that he was babbling, and would probably be embarrassed by the words tumbling out of his mouth, were he a little more coherent, but at this point he was too far gone to care.

Krem released Dorian's wrists and stood, allowing his hands to trail up Dorian's sides, and then caress his behind. Dorian stayed exactly as he was, until Krem gave him his next order. "On your back, Altus. I want to see your face when you come."

Dorian turned over, putting his feet on the edge of the bed, allowing his legs to fall open. His cock bobbed between them. A bead of clear fluid swelled at the tip, then dripped onto his stomach and slid into his belly button. His stomach muscles twitched at the sensation.

Krem looked him over appreciatively, resting his hands on Dorian's knees. "Kaffas, Dorian. You are so gorgeous."

Dorian gave him a lopsided smile, delighting in the praise more than he would readily admit to, but feeling too distracted to bother with his usual witty deflections. He watched with detached interest as Krem oiled up his shiny metal dick. His focus was pulled rudely back to reality, however, when Krem took hold of his legs and pulled them up over his shoulders.

"Fasta vass, that's cold!" Dorian gasped, as the backs of his knees came into contact with Krem's iron pauldrons.

Krem grinned down at him. "You're the one who wanted armor," he said without pity, lining the tip of his cock up with Dorian's hole.

Dorian flinched when the blunt head made contact, as cold as everything else in the benighted South. He'd had quite enough, thank you very much. He struggled up onto his elbows, and reached out a hand. "Wait, let me…" He made a small, delicate gesture, gathering energy and shaping it, then took Krem's dick in his hand. A dull red glow spilled from Dorian's palm, and enveloped the silverite phallus with pulsing light. After a few seconds, he pressed the inside of his wrist against the metal, to check the temperature, then released the spell. "Much better," he sighed.

Krem touched it experimentally, "Oh. That's warm! I wonder if Dagna could do something like that with a rune, to make it permanent?"

Dorian sighed. "I imagine she could. But right now, I'm much more interested in how much longer I'm going to have to wait for you to put that blighted thing in me, and fuck me until I can't remember my own name."

Krem chuckled, "So demanding. Are you sure this what you wanted?" he asked, pressing the warm head against Dorian's entrance.

Dorian's eyes fell shut, and he moaned in anticipation. "Yes. Venhedis, I want it. I want it now."

Krem teased the tip of his cock around in little circles, stimulating, but not penetrating. Dorian made a frustrated noise, and tried to wriggle up on it, but Krem grabbed his hips and held him still. Not until Dorian was panting with need did he finally, finally, take pity on the mage and start to push in. The stretch was intense, but Dorian was relaxed and lubed enough by now, that the head slipped past his sphincter with only a little resistance. The molded veins along the shaft tickled the sensitive skin around his opening, as the long, thick rod slid deeper and deeper into his belly. He had never felt this impossibly full. Every cock he'd had before, had at least been somewhat soft and yielding, bending to a degree to fit his passage. But, this was uncompromisingly hard, forcing him open around its shape without mercy, until he felt the chill of mail against his backside when Krem bottomed out. He could feel the cock's warmth deep inside him, and he moaned at the intensity of it.

Krem gave him a moment to savor the feeling, then slowly drew back until just the head remained. He thrust his hips forward, driving the shaft back into Dorian's body. Dorian gasped at the suddenness, pleasure radiating out from his belly as the head of the cock slammed into his prostate on the way by. Krem began fucking him in earnest, now, faster and harder. He wrapped his arms around Dorian's legs to keep from driving the man across the bed. The tails of Krem's chain mail hauberk were swinging, slapping Dorian's ass with a metallic chink at every thrust. Dorian's eyes shut, and his mouth fell open, a series of breathy grunts driven from his lips in time to the pounding he was taking. His gut ached, and his entrance burned, but the pain only served to offset and amplify the head-spinning euphoria that buzzed and flowed through his veins. His hands clawed and twisted the blankets, as he fought the urge to take himself in hand. But, his resistance was crumbling, his orgasm drawing so tantalizingly near—only a couple quick tugs away.

"Lieutenant! Please! I need to… oh! Please, may I… ah!" He was having trouble, both forming the words, and getting them out of his mouth as his breath was repeatedly pounded out of him.

"You want to come, Altus?" Krem's voice was husky and strained.

"Yes! Please!" Dorian panted between thrusts. He cried out, and thrashed when Krem wrapped his hand around Dorian's over-sensitized prick, nearly pushing him over too soon.

"Come for me, Dorian," he ordered breathlessly, and gave the mage a few firm strokes.

Dorian came so hard the first pulse hit him in the chin. Krem continued to stroke him through his climax, until he started jerking and whining at the over-stimulation. Finally, Krem let him go, and moved his hand down to grip his own cock. He dropped his head forward, and shut his eyes. His movements changed, his strokes becoming shorter, shallower, his hips grinding in small circles, mouth open and panting. He slipped out of Dorian's passage. Dorian watched, his eyes half lidded, as Krem threw his head back, pulling himself rigidly upright, and clasping his legs tightly together. His eyes were squeezed tight, every muscle in his body pulled taut, while his mouth dropped open to gasp, "Oh! Oh, Kaffas!" His hips jerked several times.

His hand held the dildo in a death grip, and he pulled it hard toward his body, presumably grinding the hook inside him into some secret sensitive spot, as he collapsed onto the bed next to Dorian. His mouth was still open, and he had a look of exquisite ecstasy on his face. Dorian sat up on one elbow to admire the view. He could see Krem's cock twitching subtly at brief intervals.

"Are you… Are you still coming?" he asked in awe.

Krem half-opened his eyes, and bit his lower lip, nodding almost imperceptibly. "Feels so good." he mumbled.

Dorian was fascinated to see his eyes dilate and contract with each aftershock, the time between pulses growing longer as Krem slowly came down. He watched the soldier's eyes drift closed again, as he finally relaxed his grip, and drifted off to sleep.

"Typical," Dorian muttered, with a fond smile, when Krem started to softly snore. He kissed him gently on the forehead, then got up to put on his clothes and quietly slip out the door.

Chapter Text

Krem woke to soft knocking at his door. He sat up, looking around blearily. Dorian was gone, and the fire was burning low in the fireplace.

"Who is it?" he called.

"Bull."

Krem rubbed his hands over his face and struggled to put his brain back together. He looked down at himself, and thought he probably should change. "Fuck it," he muttered. It was just Bull. So he got up and threw the door open, leaning against the doorjamb casually, as if he always answered the door in full armor and a strap-on.

Bull's eye scanned his lieutenant. "Is this a bad time?" he asked, with just the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"Nah. He's gone. Come on in," Krem answered, and stepped back to let Bull by.

He saw Bull's nostrils flare as he walked in. The room probably still reeked of sex, though Krem was nose-blind to it. He shut the door and turned to look at the Qunari, arms crossed.

"Dorian?" Bull asked.

"What makes you say that, Chief?" Krem answered noncommittally. He figured Dorian wouldn't be too pleased if he went about broadcasting their… whatever it was.

Bull gave him a knowing look. "He wasn't exactly subtle when he followed you out of the tavern," he said, then smiled slyly. "That, and I can smell the oils he uses to keep that pretty skin of his soft."

Krem couldn't quite stifle a goofy grin. "It is soft," he said, remembering the feel of it under his hands.

Bull laughed and gave him a sideways glance. He seemed like he wanted to say something.

Krem sighed. "Alright, Chief. Out with it. Say what you came to say."

Bull looked sheepish. "You got me, Krem Puff. I saw Dorian hurrying back to his room, and I just wanted to check in, make sure everything was OK. I was afraid things might have gone… badly." He looked at Krem speculatively, hesitating before he spoke. "Tell me I'm wrong, but… I didn't think he knew. How did he react to you being Aqun-Athlok?"

Krem chuckled darkly. "Surprised." He kept his tone light, but he knew Bull wouldn't miss the tightness of his smile.

Bull raised his eyebrow. "That doesn't sound good."

"Well, it worked out alright in the end," Krem answered, gesturing at the dildo he still sported.

Bull grunted. "And yet, he couldn't get out of here fast enough, could he?" he muttered darkly.

Krem shifted uncomfortably. The thought had occurred to him, as well. Was it just a pity fuck, as he first suspected? Was Dorian relieved when he finally got the chance to slip out? Things between them were… complicated, and he didn't want Bull going all mother-hen on him, so he just shrugged and said, "That's the way it is in Tevinter. Especially for someone like him."

Bull grunted again, clearly unimpressed. He stood staring into the fire, arms folded across his chest.
"As long as it wasn't like that time in Val Royeaux," he growled. He shook his head and turned to face Krem. "I'm sorry. It's none of my business. I shouldn't have butted in. I just… don't like to see my boys get hurt."

Krem scowled, remembering that night with embarrassment. Some masked Orleasian noble had picked him up in a bar on the docks, then called him every demeaning term for "woman" he could think of, when he didn't find what he was looking for in Krem's pants. The encounter never turned violent, but it had left him feeling deeply humiliated, discouraged, and more unsure of himself than he had in years.

"I appreciate your concern, Chief, but Dorian's not like that." He responded flatly. "He was very nice about it. Said it made no difference."

"But, you don't believe him?" Bull asked shrewdly. It was more statement than question.

Krem sighed. "I really don't know what to believe. He seemed sincere. But, sometimes it's hard to tell what's real and what's just good breeding with him." He pushed away that little voice in the back of his head that insisted that he couldn't possibly be man enough for someone like Dorian.

Bull gave him a sardonic look. "So… what? He fucked you just to be polite?"

Krem blushed. "I guess it does sound a little silly when you put it like that." He shook his head in chagrin. "It's hard to explain. Even though we both come from Tevinter, we come from very different worlds. It leaves a lot of room for… misinterpretation. But, he's really a sweet guy, once you get past all that Altus crap. I guess what it really comes down to is, I can't tell how much is real, and how much is me wanting to believe him, you know? I just… I can't get perspective. I like him too much." He looked up at Bull and shrugged helplessly.

Bull shuffled nervously. "Yeah. About that… The other thing I wanted to discuss with you: Before I knew you had your eye on him, I was… kind of, flirting with Dorian a bit, when we were out on the road. Never came to anything. But I just wanted to say, I'll stop if you want."

Krem's heart sank. There was no way he could compete with a wall of muscle and testosterone like The Iron Bull. Even if he had all the right parts, few could compete with Bull's various… endowments. He looked away and shrugged in a way he hoped came across as nonchalant. "Ah, no, Chief. That's alright. I don't know that this is going to be more than a one-time thing, anyway, so… Don't restrain yourself on my account."

Bull gave him a hard, appraising look. "Nah. I'm going to stop," he said, with a note of finality.

Krem tried to hide his relief. Not that it probably mattered. What happened between him and Dorian tonight was just a bit of fun; It's not like it was likely to happen again, especially now that Dorian knew the whole truth. In fact, it was probably better if it didn't. He decided that, come Friday, they'd go back to Chess and stew and that would be that.

The bed creaked as Dorian shifted to press his body more firmly against Krem's. His hands crept up Krem's sides, under his shirt. He loved the feel of hot, solid muscle under his palms, as he kissed and nibbled his way down Krem's neck to the hollow at the base of his throat.

Krem squealed and tucked his chin. "Your mustache tickles," he giggled.

"Oh? It does, does it?" Dorian teased, burrowing under Krem's chin to nuzzle his throat again.

"Stop that, you arse!" Krem gasped, still laughing, as he squirmed away.

Dorian grinned and moved down the bed. He pulled Krem's shirt up far enough to blow a raspberry on his belly, and was kneed in the head for his trouble when Krem tried to curl up to protect himself from Dorian's rogue mustache.

"Oh! I'm sorry. Are you alright?" Krem sat up and took Dorian's head in his hands. He planted a kiss on Dorian's temple, right where the knee had caught him. Dorian pushed himself up to claim Krem's lips again before he could pull away.

"Mmmmf." Krem put his hands on Dorian's shoulders and pushed him away. "Hold on. I really should stir the stew again, before it burns."

He untangled himself from Dorian, hopped up off the bed, and went to attend to the food. He gave it a good stir, then turned the hook away so the pot was held off to the side where it would stay warm without continuing to boil. Then, he threw another log on the coals and stirred it back up to a cheery flame. Dorian, meanwhile, stretched out along the bed, and leaned back against the pillows, fingers laced behind his head, to admire the view. If he concentrated, he could still feel the ghost of that sweet ache inside him that he had been savoring for the last three days, a reminder of the thorough fucking Krem had given him the other night. He sighed contentedly.

Krem turned back toward Dorian, pulling off the thick leather glove he'd been using on the hot pot. He had a wicked gleam in his eye. He crawled up from the bottom of the bed, until he was straddling Dorian's hips, and looked him over. Dorian gazed back fondly, and moved his hands to Krem's hips.

Krem smiled seductively and started pulling at the laces on Dorian's trousers. "I'm pleased to see you dressed with ease of removal in mind tonight," he teased. Dorian had foregone his usual high-style mage's robes in favor of simple leather trousers and a fine linen shirt, not unlike what Krem himself was wearing, albeit of higher quality. "I hope you don't want the armor again tonight," he continued, with a wicked smile.

"Not tonight. Not for some time, I should think. Thanks to you, I now know that metal clothing and winter in the Frostbacks are not a good combination. Entirely too cold. Perhaps we should try again next summer," Dorian answered, idly tracing patterns up and down Krem's thigh with his finger.

"Oh yeah," Krem responded sarcastically, "That sounds like a good idea. Let me swelter, so you can enjoy your kink in comfort." He gave Dorian a look that was probably meant to be severe, but his eyes still sparkled with amusement.

Dorian waved a hand dismissively. "We all have to make sacrifices for the cause."

"The cause being, getting your rocks off?" Krem suggested flippantly, yanking Dorian's loosened fly open with a good, hard tug.

He pulled Dorian's shirt tails free and slid his hands up over the mage's bare torso. Dorian moaned his appreciation, undulating with the movement, when Krem drew his finger nails lightly over his chest and stomach. Dorian pulled himself upright long enough to draw his shirt over his head, and toss it carelessly aside, before laying back on the bed with an impish grin. He knew exactly how good he looked with his shirt off, and Krem didn't disappoint when he took a moment to admire his physique.

Krem's fingers hooked Dorian's waistband, and Dorian lifted his hips so Krem could pull his trousers down his thighs far enough to free his half-hard cock. Krem glanced down at it, then looked Dorian in the eye and licked his lips. He leaned forward to swirl his tongue around one of Dorian's nipples. He teased it with his tongue until it was standing out hard and tingling, then moved to the other and did the same. He ran kisses down Dorian's stomach, pausing to flick his tongue into Dorian's belly button, making his stomach muscles twitch, before continuing on down to the top of his neatly trimmed pubes. Dorian tensed in anticipation, but Krem ignored his rapidly swelling cock, and slipped past it to kiss and lick his balls.

Dorian huffed in frustration. Krem certainly did like to tease. Though Dorian was loathe to admit it, in truth, he rather enjoyed being teased, no matter how much he might complain. The extended anticipation made the final payoff that much sweeter. He let his hand come to rest lightly on Krem's head, combing his fingers through the hair where it was longer on top. The fingernails of his other hand drew lazy spirals through the short hairs on the side of Krem's head. Dorian sighed happily and let his eyes fall shut when Krem finally moved his attention to Dorian's prick. He let his fingers trace the shell of Krem's ear, and the answering moan of appreciation vibrated around Dorian's cock in a most pleasant way. He let his other hand slide down to cup the back of Krem's head, thumb massaging little circles at the base of his skull. Krem's movements were slow and gentle, their effect relaxing, and very different from the intense, hurried blow-job he'd been given behind the Herald's Rest.

He heard Krem fumbling around in the bedside table for something, but couldn't be bothered to open his eyes to find out what. A moment later he felt Krem's hand snake under him, back behind his balls, and two oil-slicked fingers massage around his entrance. He opened his eyes then, and eagerly pushed his trousers down past his knees. He wriggled and kicked his legs completely free, so he could spread them further, lifting his hips to give the soldier better access. The trousers were wadded up, half under Krem, which couldn't be good for them, but at the moment Dorian couldn't bring himself to care. He was far too focused on the fingers sliding into his hole, and the soft, hot mouth working his prick. Krem's fingers curled and explored until they found the bundle of nerves that made Dorian buck and moan. Krem grinned around Dorian's dick and dug into that spot again. His other hand, also slick with oil, wrapped around the base of Dorian's cock, and he gripped it firmly as his hand followed his mouth up to the head, before both reversed course and sunk back down to the root. With both hands occupied, he couldn't keep Dorian still this time, and Dorian took full advantage of the fact, writhing and moaning as his focus zeroed in on these two points of intense pleasure. They continued like this for some time, the tension slowly building. He felt the leading edge of an orgasm surge in his belly. Panting, he tried to keep it at bay just a little longer, to ride this rising wave of pleasure a little bit higher before it crested and washed him away.

"Ah!… Lieutenant! I'm going to…" he gasped. And then it hit, waves of ecstasy rolling over him, before he was dragged out on a tide of bliss. He floated, lost at sea. Random thoughts drifted through his mind and away: memories, images, snippets of conversation. None of them were important enough to consider too closely in this comfortable bubble of lassitude. After a time, he became aware of Krem's hands stroking his thighs, grounding him as he found his way back into his head. He opened his eyes. Krem was kneeling between his thighs, and watching him, a soft smile on his face. He liked Krem's face. He wanted to watch it twist in ecstasy.

"There you are. I was starting to think you'd fallen asleep on me," Krem said, rubbing his hip.

Dorian smiled back, and spoke the first fully-formed thought that came into his head. "How is it, Lieutenant, that every time we get together, I end up naked, and you manage to remain fully clothed?"

"I'm better at getting people naked than you are?" Krem suggested with an innocent shrug.

"I very much doubt that," Dorian replied dryly. "I'm rather an expert at getting people's clothes off." He sat up and slid a hand up under Krem's shirt, stroking his lower back while he nuzzled his neck. He intended to demonstrate his clothing-removal expertise in short order.

Krem looked away and changed the subject. "I imagine the stew's ready, if you're hungry at all," he said, making a move to get up.

Dorian grabbed his arm before he could escape, "Krem, wait." He made a noise of frustration. Why was this man so determined to run away before Dorian had a chance to return his affections? He hesitated, then voiced his concern. "As much as I truly enjoy all the attention you lavish on me, I feel bad that you don't seem to be getting as much out of the arrangement as I am."

Krem shrugged, "It's alright. I don't mind." He stared at the pot by the fire, as if it were a lifeline.

"No, it's not alright. And I do mind," Dorian huffed in frustration. He was floundering in entirely unfamiliar waters here. People either wanted him, and took advantage of all he was willing to give until they lost interest, or they rejected him outright. This all-give-and-no-take business was something he had never encountered before, and it left him utterly baffled. He knew Krem wasn't comfortable having his chest touched. Did he feel the same way about other parts of his body? Was that where this reluctance was coming from? Or was he afraid that Dorian would be repulsed, and was trying to save himself from the pain of rejection? He bit his lip, trying to decide how to handle this.

"You know, I'm perfectly willing to return the favor," he ventured. "If you would like me to."

Krem turned back to him, his face carefully neutral. "Willing. But, you don't really want to." He said it as if it were a foregone conclusion.

"I never said that," Dorian said with a frown. He stopped to consider his words. Krem wouldn't take well to empty platitudes. He was a man who distrusted pleasantries, and appreciated straight-forward honesty. "I admit to a certain degree of trepidation, but not for the reasons you think. You see, I'm used to being… something of an expert, when it comes to sex. It has been a very long time since I found myself unsure of how to proceed. I am nervous, yes. But, because I worry that I won't be able to live up to the standards you've laid out—very high standards, I might add—not because I don't want to do it. I'm… actually rather curious, truth be told." He smiled and nudged Krem with his elbow. "And, you know how I am, always a slave to my curiosity."

He was rewarded with a reluctant smile from Krem. But it was quickly replaced by a shrewd, appraising look. "And what if… you find you don't like it?"

Dorian sighed, "Then we cross that bridge when we come to it. But, I honestly don't see that being an issue. It's not so very different from, say, being with a man who has a very small penis. I like a well-endowed man as well as the next fellow, but it's not the only, nor even the most important, thing. And before you ask, yes, I have. We made it work, and it was very enjoyable." He gave Krem a conspiratorial smirk. "You, I might add, have already exceeded my expectations in being able to make things work, so I, for one, have no concerns there."

Krem was silent for a moment. "How small was it?" he finally asked, with a lop-sided grin. Dorian held up his thumb and forefinger in an approximation. "That is small," Krem said in surprise.

Dorian shrugged. "It came attached to a man with the most deliciously talented tongue, so I really didn't mind. At all." He gave a wicked grin to convey just how much he didn't mind. "I learned several useful techniques from him," he mused. After a moment he continued in a more serious tone. "My greater concern is whether you want me to. I realize that you have… boundaries. And I don't want to cross any of those boundaries, nor make you feel that you have to do anything you don't want to do. But, it is also important to me that you get at least as much satisfaction out of this arrangement as I do. I'm not just willing. I genuinely wish to pleasure you in any way in which you are comfortable having me do so."

Krem looked a little flushed, and he laughed nervously, "That has to be the most long-winded way I've ever heard anyone say, 'Want a good tongue fucking?"

Dorian chuckled. "It's a little-known fact: Magisters are actually paid by the syllable. They train us to meet our quotas from an early age."

Krem smiled at the joke, but was silent for a moment. "It hasn't really been all that one-sided, you know, " he finally said. "You watched me come the other day."

Dorian gave him a devilish grin. "Yes. And that is why I so want to see you do it again. And again." He leaned close and dropped his voice to a low, sultry murmur in Krem's ear. "And again. And again…"

Krem gave him a look that was both amused and bemused. He seemed to come to a decision. "Fine," he said. "I could… give you directions, if that would help? But, I still don't want you touching my chest."

Dorian smiled in response, "That sounds like a good plan, Lieutenant. Now, let me demonstrate my skills at getting men out of their trousers. Shall I show you how to do it with no hands?"

Chapter Text

Dorian knelt beside the bed between Krem's legs. He wished fervently, now, that he had paid more attention when Felix had insisted on giving him every detail of his first experience going down on Aetaluta Lambo when they were teenagers, instead of rolling his eyes and begging Felix to stop. He wiped his sweaty palms on the sheets. Vishante Kaffas. He hadn't been this nervous about sex in at least a decade. With his thumbs he gently pulled open the furry outer lips of Krem's sex, so he could see what he was dealing with.

"Oh!" he said in surprise, when the first thing he saw was something that looked very much like a tiny penis. This he could work with.

"Oh?" Krem echoed. He was propped up on his elbows, naked from the waist down. His feet braced on the edge of the bed, his behind scooted up between them, legs spread wide to give Dorian access to his nether regions.

Dorian glanced up to see a look of worry and amusement commingled on Krem's face. He smiled reassuringly. "I was just wondering why Felix complained so much about not being able to find his paramour's… how did he put it? Love pearl?" He made a face at the name. "Seems quite evident to me." And he proved his point by giving it a little experimental flick with his tongue.

Krem made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a gasp. "Yeah, I always wondered about that too, when girls would complain about their boyfriends not being able to find it. That is, until I'd been with a few ladies. Apparently, I'm quite a bit bigger than most."

"Oh, excellent." Dorian responded happily. "I do so love a man who is well endowed." He gave Krem a wicked little smile, then wrapped his lips carefully around his… he decided to just go with "dick"… and started to suckle. It was pleasantly salty, and slightly sweeter than he was used to. He felt it swell under his tongue. Yes, this was definitely something he could work with.

Krem closed his eyes and let his head fall back. He hummed contentedly.

After a few moments, Dorian lifted his head to speak. "You promised me directions," he reminded the soldier. When Krem looked at him, he put on his most seductive smile, looked up through his lashes, and purred, "I await your instructions, Lieutenant. Tell me what to do." He ducked his head to playfully lick Krem's dick again, while maintaining eye contact.

Krem smiled and shifted so he could run one hand through Dorian's hair. He grabbed a fistful and pulled Dorian's head back to look him in the face. Dorian gasped, his surprise quickly turning to arousal, and licked his lips. There it was. The look that made Dorian's insides squirm with excitement. His cock twitched between his legs. From the corner of his eye he saw Krem's dick twitch in echo of his own, and clear, glistening fluid gather at his entrance.

"Lick me like a dog," Krem ordered, voice hard with command. "Long, broad strokes."

As soon as his hair was released, Dorian did as he was told, starting just below Krem's hole, gathering juices as he went by, and spreading them all the way up to the top of his slit. He kept his tongue flat and relaxed, covering as much territory as possible with each stroke, and giving the tip of Krem's dick the slightest flick at the end of each stroke. Krem watched him as he worked, keeping up a low monologue of filthy observations that made the blood run simultaneously to Dorian's cock and to his cheeks.

"Hmmm. That's nice," Krem purred. "You know, I could get used to you kneeling in front of me. Servicing me. Being so good and obedient." Heat pooled in Dorian's nether regions. "You follow orders well, mage," Krem continued. "And you're so beautiful. I bet you'd look great in a collar." A small moan escaped from Dorian's mouth. "Oh? You like that idea do you?"

"Uhn-huhn," Dorian agreed, without breaking rhythm. He shifted to his hands and knees and put his whole head into it.

Krem stroked his hair. "Yeah, I thought so. You like being obedient, don't you, Altus?"

Dorian moaned in the affirmative again, nodding his head eagerly. It was true, although he would be hard pressed to admit it when he wasn't so lust-addled.

"Are you getting hard down there?" Krem asked, voice hard and rough. "All hot and needy from being put in your place?"

This time Dorian moaned deep in his chest, giving up on any attempt at more cogent communication.

Krem chuckled and let his head loll back. He was silent for several moments before he went back to giving directions. "Mmmm. So good," he sighed. "Now swirl your tongue around on my prick. Harder. Yeah, that's good." He looked down at Dorian, pupils blown wide. Dorian looked back up at him adoringly. "You might as well get comfortable. You're going continue just like that, until I tell you otherwise."

Dorian rested back on his heels again. He snagged a pillow from the head of the bed to put under Krem's hips and pulled Krem's feet up onto his shoulders, to give himself a more comfortable angle to work at. He then leaned his head against Krem's thigh and concentrated on finding a rhythm he could keep up for a while. His jaw wasn't aching as much as it sometimes did while sucking cock, but his tongue was rapidly tiring out.

Krem lay all the way back, resting his head in his hands. He closed his eyes and moaned quietly, clearly enjoying himself. His hips moved in little circles, counter to Dorian's swirling tongue. His breaths came faster and deeper, his moans shorter and more urgent. After a while, Dorian's tongue started cramping and burning from keeping up the unfamiliar motion. But, at the same time, he relished the reactions he was pulling out of the lieutenant's body. He desperately wanted to make Krem proud, to make him come. He let out a frustrated whimper when his tongue faltered, skittering off in the wrong direction and losing its rhythm. Krem echoed his noise of frustration, then struggled up to his elbows.

"Do you need a break?" he asked, eyes hooded, face flushed. He sounded wrecked.

Dorian sat back, panting, and worked his jaw and tongue. "Maybe a short one," he answered reluctantly. He made a move to wipe his mouth and chin, but Krem wrapped his legs around Dorian's torso, pinning both arms to his sides between powerful thighs before he could get his hand more than halfway there.

"Leave it," he ordered. Dorian shivered when he considered how debauched he must look right now, hair and mustache mussed, cheeks flushed, face slick with Krem's juices from nose to chin. It was filthy and disgraceful, and oh, so titillating.

"Now, come up here and kiss me." Krem said, releasing Dorian from his grip and letting his feet drop down to rest on the floor.

Dorian did as he was told. Their kissing was wet and desperate. Krem took the lead, working his mouth over Dorian's jaw and chin, then coming back to kiss him with salty lips. Their naked legs tangled together. Soft, smooth skin, stretched over hard muscles, contrasted with the texture of Krem's rough-spun shirt against Dorian's chest. Dorian rubbed his erection against Krem's thigh, enjoying the warmth and friction. He could feel Krem grinding on his thigh in return. Krem's hand was hot on the back of Dorian's head, fingers tickling the close-cropped hair near the base of his skull. It made Dorian's head spin in the most delightful way. As the worst of the ache faded from his jaw, he dipped his head to nibble at the thick muscle that ran up the side of Krem's neck. Krem hummed and tilted his head to give Dorian better access. He worked his way up to suck on Krem's earlobe, then whispered in his ear, "Shall I get back to work, Lieutenant?"

Krem nipped at the top of his ear and whispered back, "As you were, mage."

Dorian took his time on the way back down, kissing and biting his way along well-defined abs, massaging circles in the hollows of Krem's hips, placing sweet little kisses along the crease of each thigh, before finally turning his attention back to Krem's sex. He kneaded the insides of Krem's thighs, while his tongue went back to work on Krem's little dick. Krem moaned and pushed into his lips.

"Use your fingers," he panted. "Two fingers inside me. Palm up."

Dorian pulled back, so he could see what he was doing, but he continued to rub circles around Krem's swollen prick with the thumb of his right hand. He slipped the first two fingers of his left hand past Krem's entrance into his hot, tight hole and twisted them around until his palm was facing up.

"Now crook your fingers. Feel for a rough patch." Krem's eyes were squeezed shut, and his body undulated as Dorian explored its depths. His shirt was pushed up nearly to his arm pits, allowing Dorian a captivating view of his stomach muscles as they flexed and twitched in response to Dorian's ministrations. "Nngh! That's the spot," Krem moaned, when Dorian's fingers pressed against a firm, textured area, about the size of a grape, not quite a finger's length in. He massaged it experimentally.

"How is that, Lieutenant?" he asked, delighting in the way Krem's whole body squirmed against the bed.

"Harder," Krem demanded. Dorian put his whole hand into the motion, moving in tight circles and pulling his hooked fingers into Krem's sweet spot with each quick stroke. "Oh, Maker, that's perfect. Just keep doing what you're doing. Don't stop." His voice was tight with need, his breath heavy, and he ground his hips in circles, making it easier said than done for Dorian not to lose his rhythm, or his grasp on either of the sensitive, slippery nubs he was working. He could see Krem's stomach and thighs tensing in preparation for his impending orgasm, as he pulled his knees up and spread himself wider for Dorian.

"When I say now," Krem panted, "Push down hard… inside me… on that spot. Don't let up… until I tell you."

"Yes, Lieutenant," Dorian agreed. He watched in wonder as Krem's hips started to buck.

"Now!" Krem ground out, and Dorian pushed hard. Every muscle in Krem's body went taut, tendons popping out along his neck, back arching, lips pulling back in a grimace. He groaned clasping his legs tight around Dorian's hand and grabbing his wrist. Dorian could feel Krem's internal muscles clenching and releasing around his fingers, his whole sex pulsing under Dorian's palm. He let his other hand drop to his own aching cock and started to stroke himself, while he enjoyed the spectacle.

Krem relaxed as the time between pulses lengthened, but he maintained his death grip on Dorian's wrist. "Don't stop," he said again, still undulating on the bed. He bit his lip and gave the most deeply satisfied moan Dorian had ever heard. It made Dorian's prick jump in his hand. Dorian's left hand was starting to cramp, and he was edging close to his own release, by the time Krem finally came down enough to let him go.

Stretching, Krem regarded him through half-open eyes. "Stand up," he said, voice hoarse with exhaustion. He sprawled bonelessly across the bed at an angle that looked as if it should be terribly uncomfortable.

Dorian stood, still flexing the cramps out of his left hand, and letting his right fall to his side. His cock stood out at a jaunty angle in front of him.

"No, put your hand back on your dick," Krem admonished. "Show me how you were stroking yourself, just a minute ago."

Dorian flushed. He had assumed Krem was far too preoccupied to notice. Somehow, the thought of masturbating under Krem's watchful gaze, seemed far more intimate than anything they had done up to this point. Nevertheless, he did as he was told, nervously wrapping his fingers around his swollen member and giving it a pull.

Krem smiled. "That's good. Show me how you like it. Show me how you do it when you're all alone and desperately horny. No, don't close your eyes. Look at me."

Dorian did, his embarrassment quickly folding under the onslaught of his arousal. He brought his left hand around to cup his balls, gently rolling them between his fingers and pulling. His pace picked up as he approached his second orgasm of the night. He could feel the tension rapidly building.

"When you're ready, you can come on my stomach," Krem murmured. And Dorian did just that, pushed over the edge by the unexpected filthiness of the request. His seed painted stripes over Krem's tan skin before his knees went weak under him, and he collapsed across Krem's body with a groan. He lay there panting for a while, each breath making his skin slide against Krem's, lubricated by his own mess. Krem wrapped both legs and arms around him, holding him tight against his body. His fingers stroked the back of Dorian's head.

After a few minutes, Krem murmured in his ear, "Dorian? I'd like to make one more request."

"Anything, Lieutenant," Dorian answered, his voice deep and sleepy.

"Don't sneak out this time. Stay with me tonight." Krem's voice held a note of vulnerability out of character for the mercenary.

Dorian felt his heart stutter painfully in his chest. He couldn't breathe for a moment, and he couldn't even say exactly why. He tried to remember the last time he had woken up, warm and naked, in someone else's bed. It had been a very long time. And yet, all of a sudden, he found that he very much wanted to do just that—wanted it with an intensity that took his breath away.

"Of course," he said, as if that had been the plan all along. "And perhaps when I can move again, we might finally have some of that stew and a game of Chess before bed."

Chapter Text

"I have a surprise for you," Krem announced. He turned away from the packs on his bed, hiding something behind his back. He had just gotten back from a three-week mission with the Chargers, clearing out an enclave of bandits in the Frostback Basin.

"Oh?" Dorian said with a twitch of his mustache. He turned his chair away from the Chess table as Krem approached, giving him room to sit. "Is it something dirty? An ancient Elvhen fertility statue, perhaps? A taxidermied dragon's phallus?" He guided Krem's hips down to straddle his lap.

Krem shook his head in mock-disdain at Dorian's gift suggestions. "Yeah… remind me never to let you go present shopping alone." He pecked a fond kiss onto Dorian's forehead. "No, this was just a little something I saw, and I thought of you." He brought his hand around and presented his find.

Dorian went very, very still. It was a collar. A Mabari fighting collar, about three finger-widths wide and dotted with metal studs. His stomach did a little flip. They sat like that in frozen silence for several awkward seconds.

When Krem spoke, he sounded worried. "I realize, when you said you liked the idea, it might have been one of those heat of the moment things. Maybe in the light of day, you don't like it so much, and that's alright. We don't have to use it. It's just a thought."

"No, no" Dorian said hurriedly, unable to take his eyes off it. "I do like the idea. I just… " He winced and glanced up at Krem. "I'm actually a bit embarrassed by how much I like the idea." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Yeah, see, that's sort of what I was thinking," Krem tried to explain. "I mean, yeah, I have my own selfish reasons for wanting to see you wear this," he gave Dorian an ironic smirk. "But, I also thought it would make things easier for you. Easier to make that mental shift, I mean. I know you enjoy being sexually submissive…"

Dorian squirmed at the barefaced truth in that statement. He did enjoy it. He always had. And there had been those who had taken advantage of the fact. He remembered one particularly humiliating episode when he had been left in a broom cupboard, naked and achingly hard, seed leaking down his thighs, cheeks hot with shame as he finished himself off, while the other man's derisive parting laughter still echoed in his ears. He pushed the memory away and turned his attention back to Krem.

"...don't just mean because you're an Altus." he was saying, "You're one of the strongest men I know." Krem raised a hand when Dorian opened his mouth to make a sarcastic remark. "No, I mean that. You don't let anyone dictate how you live your life, yet you listen to other viewpoints, and have the courage to admit when you're wrong. You do what you believe to be right, even when no one will thank you for it. You're a bad-ass mage. Pretty damned good with a bladed staff, too. I say it without reservation: I would happily have you guarding my back any day of the week." He looked at Dorian seriously. "I imagine, trying to switch between those two identities has to be… stressful."

Well, that was… Dorian didn't know what to make of Krem's observation. It was uncomfortably on-point. And yet, there was no judgment in Krem's words. It occurred to him that this was one of the reasons he kept coming back to the mercenary, long after he had expected their little fling to run its course; Krem had understood from the beginning this need he had, and he had never made Dorian feel ashamed or diminished because of it.

Krem continued, "I figured, this way, there's… something tangible separating one Dorian from the other. When we want to play, I put the collar on you, and while it's on, you belong to me, and you're expected to be submissive and obedient." He glanced down with a smirk when he registered the interested nudge Dorian's cock gave to his thigh. "Then, when we're done, I take if off and, boom!" He gave Dorian a cheeky look. "You go back to being the snarky, insufferable Altus we all know and love. What do you think?"

"I think that's the longest speech I have ever heard you make." Dorian deflected automatically.

Krem raised an eyebrow. He was clearly not impressed, and was waiting for a serious answer.

Dorian looked away as he considered for a moment. Krem was right. Having that compartmentalization would make it easier to live with some of his more ignoble desires. Not to mention that the blighted thing was undeniably… intriguing.

"I think you have made a good argument," he finally said. "Your insight is… more accurate than I am fully comfortable admitting to." He looked up at Krem with a sly smile. "I also think that I would very much like for you to put it on me now, Lieutenant."

Krem looked pleased. "Happy to. But, if we're going to do this, I think we should establish some ground rules." He waited for Dorian's nod of agreement. "When I ask you for a flag color—or any time you need to stop—say, 'Red' and everything stops, no questions asked. If you want to take a time-out and check in, say, 'Yellow.' And if everything's good and you want to keep going, say, 'Green.' Got that?"

"You seem to have put a great deal of thought into this," Dorian said with a knowing smile. "I'm starting to think this was less of an impulse buy than you were letting on."

Krem blushed and looked away, "Yeah, well… maybe, I just might have been obsessing over the idea, a little bit, night and day, since it first came up." He shrugged helplessly. "What can I say? The idea of you on your knees wearing nothing but a collar is just so damned hot."

Dorian swallowed. The idea of being on his knees in nothing but a collar was pretty damned hot, as well.

"Naturally," he said instead.

Krem shook his head fondly at Dorian's false immodesty. "Tell me what I said about the flags," he prompted.

"Red means stop. Yellow, time out. Green, all is well," Dorian repeated dutifully.

Krem nodded, "Good. If, for some reason, you can't speak, tap or kick three times, like this," he demonstrated by tapping Dorian's shoulder, "and I'll stop and check in."

"Planning to fuck me speechless, are you, Lieutenant?" Dorian teased.

"Well, you never know," Krem answered with a devilish grin. He glanced away for a moment and bit his lip. "What would you think… if there were consequences for not obeying me when you're wearing the collar?"

Dorian raised an eyebrow, "What did you have in mind?"

"Nothing too extreme. Like, maybe, I put you over my knee and give you a spanking." He glanced down again when Dorian's cock responded before his mouth was able to form a reply. Krem smirked. "Should I take that as a yes?"

Dorian cleared his throat, "I would say it would be acceptable to me, yes, so long as you leave no publicly visible marks."

Krem nodded his agreement. "What do you want to see included in all this?" he dropped his voice to a seductive murmur. "Tell me something that really turns you on."

Dorian looked away again. He immediately thought of something that one of his lovers had done. Something that had pushed buttons he hadn't even known he had, and that had made its way regularly into his masturbatory fantasies ever since. But to say it out loud… He huffed in frustration. He really wasn't used to all of this talking about sex. In his experience, one just did it. Sometimes it worked out, and sometimes it didn't, but it was usually less embarrassing that way. Or, at any rate, when there were opportunities for embarrassment, he was usually too horny or too drunk by that point to pay it much mind. Unfortunately, he was neither at the moment. Well, maybe a little horny. He sucked in a breath, filled with the sudden determination to trust Krem with this. You never get what you don't ask for, after all.

"I… I would very much like it if…" He felt his cheeks getting hot and he couldn't look Krem in the eye. "If sometimes you would tell me… what a good boy I'm being for you." His voice came out husky with nervousness, which Krem allayed with an easy smile.

"I can definitely do that," he agreed. He held up the collar. "Shall we?" At Dorian's nod, he made that subtle shift in bearing to being the man in charge. "Chin up for me," he ordered. Dorian lifted his chin, and Krem buckled the collar around his neck. He leaned back to admire it. "Nice. How's the fit?"

Dorian slipped his fingers underneath, and found he had enough room to keep from feeling choked. He twisted his head experimentally. The collar was tall enough that it occasionally rubbed under his chin and against his collarbone when he moved his head, but otherwise it was fairly comfortable. He found he liked the feel of it around his throat; It was cool and rough against his skin and pleasantly heavy. Its weight was a physical reminder of what it represented. He shivered. "It's good. I like it," he answered.

Although they had played this game before, it had never been so explicitly spelled out. It had just been playful banter that they had moved in and out of; A bit of dirty talk, that never held any bite. This, somehow, made the dynamic between them more concrete, more compelling, more visceral.

Krem put his hand on the back of Dorian's head and pulled him forward until their foreheads touched. His fingers were cool on the back of Dorian's neck where they rested above the collar. He made a pleased noise in the back of his throat. "I thought you would like it. Do you like belonging to me?"

"Yes," Dorian whispered, feeling a familiar warmth flood his belly.

"Are you going to be a good boy?"

"Yes," Dorian whispered again, chills running up his spine. His pants were feeling entirely too tight.

"Good. I'm going to test you, tonight, to see just how good and obedient you really are." He sat up, and the smile he gave Dorian was positively feral. "It won't be easy, and you may not like it. But I expect you to do your best."

Dorian felt a little jolt of fear. Kaffas. What have I gotten myself into? But, this was Krem. Krem wouldn't abuse his trust. And anyway, hadn't they just established that he could red-flag out any time? His uneasiness shifted back toward arousal, and he answered, "I am yours to command, Lieutenant."

"Yes, you are." Krem said with a twinkle. He let his eyes wander up and down Dorian's body, examining him as if he were a particularly fine object that he was considering buying. "That collar does look good on you," he said. "I can hardly wait to see you in nothing but. Time to get those clothes off, mage."

Dorian had dressed up for Krem's homecoming, wanting to make a memorable impression after so long apart. Now he was thinking that perhaps he should have dressed more simply, as he fumbled with buckles and straps and buttons, in a rush to get naked for the soldier.

Krem chuckled, "Hey, slow down! We have all evening," he said, but was quick to lend a hand in stripping Dorian bare.

Chapter Text

"I'm too close, too close," Dorian gasped desperately, writhing and arching with the intensity of his need. Krem's mouth was hot and wet around his prick, and he wasn't sure he had spoken soon enough. He could feel himself teetering on the precipice of an orgasm. Again. Krem released him immediately and Dorian's cock bobbed and twitched in the wake of his denial. He panted through the worst of it, willing himself back from the edge. His skin was hot and slick with sweat, his hair stuck to his forehead. His balls felt swollen and achy. As his urgency diminished, he became aware of Krem's hands rubbing gentle circles on his hips.

"There's a good boy. You're doing so well for me," Krem murmured, and the words made an exquisite thrill run up Dorian's spine. "Just two more times, and then you can come." Dorian looked up at him through slitted eyes. Krem's pupils were pinned wide, and his lips were wet and swollen from sucking Dorian's cock. His eyes roamed over Dorian's body like a lecher's hands.

"Maker's balls, Dorian. You are so gorgeous when you're desperate."

Although no longer in imminent danger of losing control, Dorian was still breathing hard. His lips pulled up into a half-smile, and he licked them before he spoke, "You know, Lieutenant… I'm fairly certain… this falls under the… definition of… of torture… according to the… Treaty of Montsimmard."

"Is that so? Do you know what I think?" Krem gave him a wicked smile and ran his tongue lightly up the inside of Dorian's thigh, eliciting a little gasp. "I think you must be ready for another round, if you have the energy to sass me." He bent his head over Dorian's leaking cock, and let his tongue just tickle the frenulum.

Dorian whined and threw his head back against the pillows, squeezing his eyes shut.

"But first, give me a flag color," Krem ordered, his breath hot on Dorian's balls.

Dorian whimpered. His brain stalled, caught in a loop of indecision: He wanted to prove that he could obey, no matter how difficult it was, and to be told what a good boy he was for doing it. But, he wasn't sure how much more he could take. It would be so much worse if he failed. Not because he feared punishment; He rather suspected that part would be enjoyable. He just didn't want to be a disappointment.

"Give me a color, or I call red, and we stop," Krem said evenly: a promise, not a threat.

Dorian's face twisted like he was going to cry, and he shook his head violently against the pillows. "Green," he gritted out, body tensing in anticipation of the next onslaught.

"That's my boy," Krem purred, and sucked him down.

Dorian arched up from the bed. It didn't take long before he was dancing on the knife's edge again. He tried to ride the feeling, to hold out until the very last second. He was shaking with the effort, exhausted and overwhelmed by the intense pleasure/pain of being so very close. He gripped the sheets with both white-knuckled fists as he fought the urge to just let go and damn the consequences. Hot tears welled in his eyes as he writhed and moaned with unfulfilled need. It was too much, and not enough, and the pressure was building in his chest and behind his eyes now, in addition to the usual places. His dignity finally crumbled under the strain.

"Please, no more," he sobbed, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Please, I'm too tired. I need to come. I can't… Please. Please." The words tumbled uncontrollably out of his mouth, and he hated himself for being so weak. But, he was overwrought, and utterly tapped out, and just couldn't seem to stop.

Krem pulled off his cock and shushed him gently, stroking his thighs and murmuring encouraging words: "You're alright. You're doing so well. It's almost over; Only one more to go. You can do this. You're being so good." He crawled up to the head of the bed and pulled Dorian into his arms, resting Dorian's head on his shoulder, and brushing his hair out of his face. Dorian's eyes were squeezed shut, and he was sucking in short, wheezing breaths between pleas.

Krem laid a hand on his cheek. "Look at me, sweet boy. Open your eyes and look at me." Dorian did. The look on Krem's face was strong and confident, comforting. "Shhh. You're alright," he said again, brushing a tear from under Dorian's eye with his thumb. "I know you're strong enough to do this. You've done so well so far. Take a deep breath for me."

Dorian dragged in a deep, shuddering breath.

"Now let it out… Good boy. And another." Krem's touch was soothing, and with each breath Dorian started to feel calmer, while his desperation ebbed. Krem stroked Dorian's cheek and looked deep into his eyes, guiding him until the tears stopped and Dorian's breathing slowed.

"Give me a color," he said gently.

"Green," Dorian answered, his voice barely above a whisper. He drew in another hiccuping breath, still gazing into those deep brown eyes.

The beatific smile Krem gave him made Dorian's heart swell. "Just one more. Do you think you can do that for me?"

Dorian nodded.

"Good boy." Krem patted Dorian's hip encouragingly. "Up on your knees and face me." Dorian did as as he was told, rising up on shaking knees, his throbbing erection pointing accusingly toward the other man. Krem knelt across from him and gave his next instruction. "Now, take yourself in hand."

Dorian whimpered when his hypersensitive cock twitched eagerly in his hand as he carefully wrapped it around the base.

"That's good," Krem praised. Slowly, deliberately, still maintaining eye contact, he slipped a hand into his own smalls. Dorian sat back on his heels, and let his eyes drop to Krem's drawers. He watched Krem's hand moving in sensuous circles under the fabric, and couldn't help conjuring up a mental image of what he might be doing to himself under there.

Krem continued, "You can move as slowly as you need to, but I want you to watch me, and keep stroking yourself until after I come. Then I'll give you the command, and you can finally have your release. Understood?

Dorian nodded and drew his hand gently along his length. He let his other hand cup his balls, more for the comfort of it, than for the stimulation. He found he had to move in agonizingly slow motion to keep from tipping himself over the edge.

Krem smiled wickedly. "Do you need any lubrication, there? Because, I'm so wet over here…" he paused to moan deep in his chest and arch his back seductively, "…I'm sure I have enough for both of us."

Dorian imagined slipping his hand into Krem's pants, fingering him until he was wet with Krem's juices, then using that lubrication to slick his own cock. He sucked in a breath and had to stop stroking himself for several seconds to keep from going over at the idea. He whimpered with the effort of maintaining control. Krem looked smugly amused, but he let Dorian get himself together before taking him to task.

"Did I tell you to stop?" he admonished.

"I'm sorry, Sir," Dorian said, resuming his painfully slow self-torture. Were his mind not muffled from exhaustion, and buzzing from the effects of being edged for the better part of an evening, he might have even held out some hope that his indiscretion might lead to a bit of punishment. As it was, the only things he had room in his head for were Krem's orders and the building pressure as he kept himself carefully balanced on the verge of orgasm. He knew from experience that, after all this time walking the tightrope, the eventual climax would be mind-blowing—if he didn't take himself too close and ruin it. He dared to rub his thumb over the slick head of his cock once, feeling a spike of pleasure knife through him. He moaned and shut his eyes. A bead of sweat tickled its way down the back of his thigh. You're supposed to be watching, he reminded himself, and his eyes flew open again.

Krem's eyes had fallen closed, his mouth open, and he ground his hips in circles, freely seeking his own pleasure in front of Dorian. His hand was moving rapidly in his smalls, now. Dorian could smell Krem's arousal, and could hear the soft wet sounds of his fingers pumping inside his hole. He wanted so badly to pull Krem's drawers down to see, to touch, to taste. Krem bit his lip and moaned. Dorian could tell from the tightness around his eyes, and the change in his breathing that he was close. And the closer Krem got to his orgasm, the closer Dorian would be to his own. The knowledge brought an added urgency to his need. It took everything in him not to follow Krem over when he threw his head back and started to come. Dorian kept his own motions to the lightest micro-strokes, one finger just tickling the underside of the crown, while he clung to the edge for dear life.

Krem's body went rigid. "Oh! Oh Maker that's good. Oh, that's good. Oh!" he chanted in a strained voice.

A small whimper escaped Dorian's throat. Krem opened his eyes a slit, still clutching himself and riding out the aftershocks. He smiled devilishly as he took in Dorian's desperate, hopeful expression.

"Come for me, Dorian," he ordered.

That and one stroke was all it took. Dorian's head fell back as an intense wave of pleasure washed over him, rushing through his veins and soaking every fiber of his being. It swelled inside his head, obliterating every thought beyond how fucking good it felt. Each pulse seemed to travel in slow motion up his prick before shooting out over the sheets. What little strength he had left was expended with his spend, and he flopped over onto the pillows, trembling and breathing heavily.

After several minutes, Dorian surfaced enough to become aware of Krem's fingers idly tracing patterns up and down his arm. He opened his eyes and met Krem's gaze from across the pillow they now shared. Krem reached over to stroke Dorian's cheek, and Dorian took his wrist and planted a kiss on his palm. As Krem pulled his hand away, Dorian followed, snuggling up against the soldier and laying his head low on his shoulder to listen to the soothing rhythmic pulse of his heart. He felt both physically and emotionally drained—scooped hollow, in a pleasantly achy sort of way. He hadn't felt this way since he was a very small child, in the aftermath of crying himself into exhaustion over some perceived injustice. Krem drew a blanket over the both of them and hugged Dorian close. One hand toyed with Dorian's hair, while the fingers of the other continued to caress Dorian's arm.

"You did so well," he murmured. "I'm very proud of you."

Dorian felt warmth bloom and fill the hollow space in his chest. How long had it been since anyone had told him they were proud of him? He sighed happily and hugged Krem closer.

Krem kissed the top of his head "Are you ready for me to take the collar off, now?"

Dorian shook his head.

"Not yet? Alright." He ran a finger across a spot on Dorian's neck where the collar had rubbed, making him hiss. "You may have to wear high collars for a couple days. I think this is going to show," he said apologetically. "I'll get out the elfroot lotion, when you're ready to take this off."

Dorian didn't care if it showed. Tomorrow he probably would. Tomorrow he would be irritated and embarrassed, and maybe even a little turned on by it. But right now all he felt was warm and safe and… loved.

Chapter Text

Dorian slammed the book shut with a frustrated sigh. He had spent the past three days scouring through volumes upon volumes of spell-books, and while he had found a few interesting battle spells that he would undoubtedly come back to study further at a later date, he had yet to find what he was looking for. For the thousandth time he cursed his youthful self. Most mages knew this stuff, but he had stubbornly refused to learn, believing he would never have a use for it. Kaffas. He was going to have to ask someone. He considered briefly giving it up as a lost cause. Given that Krem had not yet agreed to his proposal, he was, after all, putting the cart before the horse. But no, it was best to go into negotiations prepared for success. So… Which would be less humiliating, he wondered. Vivienne, or Solas? Solas held him in contempt; Vivienne mostly pretended to. Vivienne it would be, then.

He shook his head in wonder at the turn of events that led him to this point, and for a Soporati mercenary, no less. It occurred to him that, at almost five months, this had become the longest liaison he had engaged in since… well, since Rilienus. Rilienus. Dorian hadn't thought about him in a while. He wondered, again, if he would have followed when Dorian left Tevinter, had Dorian only asked. Probably not. Rilienus had a promising career already taking off, a junior seat in the Magisterium, and unlike Dorian, he had been discreet enough in his affairs—and toed the party line closely enough—that his reputation was still fully intact. Also, unlike Dorian, he didn't despise the woman his parents had chosen for him, and had ultimately married her. Well, in all fairness to Livia, Dorian didn't actually despise her; He just found her vaguely repulsive. She, on the other hand, had nothing but contempt for him. She had made that perfectly clear in a conversation he had accidentally overheard while getting some air in the gardens at their engagement party.

"I can't believe my parents are going through with this engagement," came a voice from the other side of the hedgerow from where Dorian was hiding. "Clearly he wants this even less than I do. It took him all of an hour to dump me and disappear from his own engagement party. Really! Did he even consider how that would make me look?"

A girl giggled. "Have you checked the broom cupboards? I bet he's in there with one of the servants."

Livia huffed. "Ugh! Don't even get me started. It's bad enough that he has a reputation for hedonistic excess, but even worse," She dropped her voice and continued soto voce, "I have it on good authority that he's a cinaedus."

"No!" exclaimed a third voice. "But he's so handsome." Both of Livia's friends giggled, and Dorian's cheeks flamed.

Livia answered in conspiratorial tones. "Nevertheless, from what I hear, he regularly spreads his legs and takes it like a woman." Her voice was dripping with disgust. "And, what's worse, everyone knows it. It's so humiliating."

Despite her disgust, or perhaps to spite it, Dorian did indeed spread his legs and take it later that very night. Contrary to what many believed, however, he was not strictly a bottom boy. He liked it both ways, at least on occasion. But, it was so rare amongst the Alti to find someone willing to bottom, that he was rarely given the opportunity to top by his peers. For that, he generally had to visit the brothels, or seek out some willing partner within the lower classes. Which led to the reason he was now traipsing up the stairs to seek out counsel from Vivienne.

"Darling!" she greeted him. "It's been far too long. What brings you to my chambers at this hour?"

Was it really that late? Kaffas It was. But he was here now. "Vivienne, my dear. I do apologize for the late hour," he said, bowing shallowly and kissing the back of her proffered hand. "I have actually come to seek your expertise on a… somewhat delicate matter. Can I rely on your discretion?"

"Of course. I am the very soul of discretion," she said with her most beguiling smile, taking a seat, and gesturing at a nearby chair. "You know that, darling."

Dorian wondered if that was a dig at his youthful lack of discretion, or if he was just being overly sensitive because of where his thoughts had been on his way up here. Taking the offered seat, he decided to get straight to the point.

"I know that there are spells that exist, that prevent, shall we say, unexpected and inconvenient consequences as the result of… intimate encounters. I never bothered to learn them in my youth, and now I, rather unexpectedly, find myself in need of such a thing." He resolutely did not squirm.

Vivienne looked highly amused. "Ah, yes. I had heard you had been spending a great deal of time in the company of a certain mercenary captain from Tevinter."

Dorian stifled a scowl. "Lieutenant, actually. I see the rumor mill is as efficient and specious as ever."

"Still, darling. Slumming, are we?" She smiled sweetly.

Dorian smiled back, just as sweetly, "We can't all sleep our way to the top."

Vivienne laughed aloud. "I do so enjoy our repartee. It almost makes me homesick." She regarded him speculatively. "As to your question, there are a few possibilities. The ones I am most familiar with, of course, would require the permission and cooperation of your paramour. Have you discussed it with him? In my experience, those without the gift are less than enthusiastic about the use of magic on their person, unless it is absolutely necessary."

Dorian considered her words. "I think it would be better if I were to restrict the magic to myself, at least for now. Is that an option you can help me with?"

"Yes, of course." She said with a wave of her hand. "Albeit, one with which I have less experience. I should think Solas would know more about it than I," she said with a sly sideways glance.

Dorian frowned. He really did not want to discuss his sex life with Solas. Solas undoubtedly had the skills, being quite adept at spirit magic, but would be insufferably condescending about teaching it. "Solas? Really?" Dorian sniffed. "He strikes me as more of the ascetic, hermit type. I can't imagine him actually having much use for such magics." He put on a snide smirk and added, "Unless spirits are capable of being put in the family way."

Vivienne gave him a knowing smile. "You have a point, darling. I'll teach you what I know, of course, but be aware that I've only seen it done. My knowledge in this respect is purely theoretical."

"I thank you, Madame de Fer," Dorian said, sincerely. "I am indebted to you."

"Indeed. And make no mistake, I do keep track."

They sat on the bed, still fully dressed, kissing. Krem was straddling Dorian's hips, exploring Dorian's mouth with his tongue. Dorian, meanwhile, was distracted. What he wanted to try was such a potential minefield for those who had been raised in Tevinter. His mind kept going in circles as he tried to decide how best to broach the subject. He was worried that if he asked Krem for what he wanted, that the soldier would take it either as an insult to his manhood, or as a presumptuous insinuation about their relative social stations. It was neither of those things. It was a simple, physical yearning to feel himself enveloped by his lover's body. Hadn't Krem given him the choice that first time they got together? Or was that a test? Had he been testing Dorian, that night, to see if he really saw Krem as a man? Perhaps he should just forget it. Things were good the way they were, why risk ruining it?

Krem sighed and pulled away.

"OK, mage. Something is clearly on your mind. Spit it out."

Dorian blushed. He hadn't realized he was being so transparent. He found he couldn't quite look the other man in the eye. "Ah. Yes, there is something I've been wanting to discuss with you. Or, rather, it's more of a request. But, of course, you are free to say no. And, I just want you to know, I am not making any assumptions about, ah, perceived roles or… or class or… or anything like that. I do truly respect you, and honor you even. It's only that I so rarely get the opportunity, and every so often I like to… to… "

Krem put his hands on either side of Dorian's head and looked him in the eye. "Dorian. You're babbling. Just tell me what you want."

Dorian swallowed. "I… I would like to try topping you, for a change, if you would be amenable."

"Oh. Alright," Krem said with a shrug and an easy smile.

"What? Just like that?" Dorian asked. He had been expecting, at the very least, a little hesitation.

"Just like that." Krem kissed him again before he elaborated. "When I was younger, I might have had a problem with it. But, I've come to the point where I just don't give a shit about all those social stigmas and crap about what's manly and what isn't. I do whatever feels good. And I have no doubt that whatever you want to do with me in bed will feel good. So, were you thinking full-on traditional Templar position, or would you be good with me tying you to that chair over there and riding you until you're coming dry?"

A wide smile spread across Dorian's face. "Why don't we start with the chair, and save Templar for the morning when we're too sleepy for athletics?" he suggested. "Oh, and I just want you to know," he added earnestly, "I've taken precautions to ensure there aren't any, ah, accidents."

Krem's smile broadened. He planted a kiss on Dorian's forehead. "That's sweet, but not really necessary. I take herbs for that."

"Oh, of course. I should have thought of that." Dorian felt his cheeks heating, and he looked down.

Krem ran his fingers through Dorian's hair. "No, I'm glad. Do you know how few men even think about it, let alone take responsibility? Thank you. Really," he said, ducking his head so he could look Dorian in the eye. He ran his thumb over Dorian's bottom lip, then repeated earnestly, "Thank you. Anyway, better safe than sorry, right?"

Dorian looked up at Krem with his trademark sardonic smile, "Well, it would be terribly ironic if I were to produce an heir at this point, wouldn't it?"

Krem laughed. "Do you think your parents would be more pleased to have someone to carry on the Pavus name, or more horrified that it was with an exiled Soporati mercenary?"

Dorian considered the question. "I imagine it would depend upon whether or not the child showed magical ability, to be honest. So long as he or she was accepted to the Minrathous circle, I think they could live with it."

Krem sat back and scowled. "Wait a minute. Minrathous? We're not moving to Minrathous. I can't even go back to Tevinter; I'm wanted for desertion. And I'm not sending my child off to some elitist mage school where I might never see her again."

Anger bloomed in Dorian's chest, and he huffed in annoyance. "Do you prefer we stay in Ferelden and let the Templars drag our child off to one of their prison circles? Teach her to hate herself for being a mage? Let them turn her Tranquil if she gets too uppity for them?"

Fire flashed in Krem's eyes. "Because nobody was ever made Tranquil in Tevinter for upsetting the status quo. Do you really think she'll be any happier being turned into another puppet player for the Magisterium? What if she's like us? I'm not going to force my child to play by the same Tevinter rules that I've spent my whole life fighting against."

"So, what would you suggest?" Dorian asked, rhetorically. "Perhaps I should join the Chargers, and we could take her with us. What better place to raise a child than on the road with a mercenary company? I could teach her Pyromancy, and she could set bandits on fire between nap time and snacks."

Krem gaped at him. He opened his mouth to make an angry retort, but then snapped it shut again. He looked baffled for a moment, then a bemused smile spread across his face. "Why are we arguing about a child that we've just made doubly sure we're never going to have?"

Dorian found himself as puzzled as Krem, as the anger drained out of him. "I don't know. It does seem rather silly, doesn't it." He chuckled at the absurdity.

Krem's face brightened, "Hey! Was that our first fight? You know what this means, don't you?" He grinned mischievously and pressed his forehead against Dorian's. "It means we're now officially a couple."

Dorian's eyes went wide for a moment. A strange surge of excitement bubbled up in his chest at the thought. "A couple?" he kept his tone light, unsure what direction Krem was heading with this. "Should I start filling my bottom drawer?" ¹

Krem grinned, "I'm much more interested in working our way through everything in my top drawer," he said seductively.

So, it was just a joke. Well, that was to be expected, really. Nevertheless, Dorian was surprised by the intensity of his disappointment. He firmly pushed it aside, but he could feel how tight his smile was.

Of course, Krem noticed. He sat back, suddenly serious. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, not at all," Dorian answered, too quickly. "I'm just being silly," He couldn't look Krem in the eye.

Krem gave an annoyed sigh. "I thought we were past this. Just tell me, whatever the problem is."

Dorian bit his lip, and looked up at Krem. "What you just said, about us being a couple. Did you mean it?"

Krem looked perplexed, "Well, yeah. I mean, it makes sense to me. We've been spending most of our free time in Skyhold together. Don't know about you, but I haven't been seeing anyone else…"

"No, nor I," Dorian interjected quickly.

"And the sex is fantastic," Krem gave him a little smirk.

"I quite agree." Dorian returned the look.

"And I… " Krem glanced down and said in a more serious tone, "Well, I've gotten kind of attached to you."

Dorian's heart pounded in his chest. The whole idea was entirely untenable. Dorian was a future Magister… assuming his father hadn't disinherited him by now. Krem was dedicated to the short, hard life of a mercenary. Their lives were too different, too incompatible. And yet, there was one undeniable truth that he just couldn't let go. "I've become rather attached to you, as well, Lieutenant," he heard himself say, and felt a shy smile spread across his face.

Krem shook his head and one corner of his mouth curled up, "I'm glad. One of these days we might even get serious enough you can start calling me Krem."

Dorian's smile stretched into a grin, "One step at a time, Lieutenant," he replied and pulled Krem into a kiss.

Chapter Text

Dorian tested the ropes that tied him to the chair, enjoying the pressure across his chest and back and around his arms. It was a bit like like being hugged. He was naked and collared, tied low in the chair so that his spine curved and his hips tipped forward, forcing his his red, swollen cock to point straight up. A narrower rope was wrapped around the base and behind his balls, pulling everything forward and making sure he stayed hard and extra sensitive. It continued back between his legs and up his crack, where it secured a large plug that stretched and filled his ass to a point just on the pleasurable side of painful, before securing his wrists at the small of his back. His legs remained free so that he could comfortably maintain his balance, but he was under orders to keep them spread, allowing enough access for Krem to torment him by wiggling the plug every so often as he tied the ropes in intricate patterns around Dorian's body. Until today, Dorian had no idea Krem had an interest in, let alone an aptitude for, Antivan bondage. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised, given that this was a man with an entire drawer-full of dongs and other kinky playthings. In any case, Dorian was certainly not complaining.

Krem stood in front of him, admiring his handiwork while he unlaced and shucked off his trousers. He pulled his shirt up over his head and tossed it onto the bed, then stood there for a moment in just his smalls and binder. Turning his back on Dorian, he started unlacing the binder. This was unusual; He didn't usually remove the binder until he was ready to sleep, and then he would pull his shirt back on before turning around and climbing quickly under the covers. He tossed the binder aside, then stood there for a moment, still facing away, and took a deep breath. Dorian admired his broad, muscular back as it expanded with air, then contracted again when Krem exhaled. Wishing his hands were free, he made do with letting his eyes caress Krem's plump cloth-covered behind.

"I guess, if we're going to be 'official', I should just get over myself," Krem said, quietly. Slowly, deliberately, he turned around to face Dorian. He looked tense, his face hard with determination. He stood there, opening and closing his fists by his sides.

Dorian felt a swelling of… well, something he couldn't quite identify, in his chest. He was deeply touched by this show of trust. As tempted as he was to look away—to give Krem his privacy and ease both of their discomfort—he understood that this was an offering, and to look away now would be taken as a rejection. So he looked. Krem's breasts were small and nicely shaped, at least as far as Dorian was any judge in the matter. The nipples were dark and puckered from the cool air. His well-defined pecs gave his chest a surprisingly masculine appearance, despite the plump little globes. Dorian was a little surprised at his sudden desire to touch them, to test their firmness, and run his thumbs over their little nubs.

He blinked and looked up at Krem's face. "Thank you," he said earnestly. "For trusting me."

Krem shrugged and looked away. "Yeah, well. It only seems fair. You let yourself be vulnerable for me, how can I not be willing to do the same?" He shifted his gaze back to Dorian, then very deliberately squared himself up and put his hands on his hips, pushing his chest out in defiance.

"For what it's worth," Dorian said, "I've seen plenty of men with more bosom than you."

Krem's lips twisted into a sardonic smile. "What? Like Seeker Pentaghast's cousin Lorin?"

Dorian laughed, "Oh yes, definitely him. But also, men who were younger and less… prodigious." His mustache twisted up on one side. "Trust me, I've seen more men in various states of undress than I care to admit to, and it isn't all that uncommon. You have nothing to be embarrassed about."

Krem looked skeptical, but he let it pass, and instead stepped forward to take hold of Dorian's chin and tilt his head back. In an instant the insecurity was gone, and was replaced by command.

"Are you ready to be a good boy for me?" He asked when their eyes locked. He ran his thumb over Dorian's bottom lip. Dorian's mouth fell open and he took the offered digit and sucked it seductively. Krem chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes. Close your eyes."

Dorian did. He heard Krem step across the room and open what Dorian was coming to think of as the drawer of unexpected pleasures. A moment later he felt warm fleece pressed against his eyes and leather against his temples as Krem buckled a blindfold around his head. He shivered.

"Now, just relax, and concentrate on the sensations," Krem whispered in his ear.

Something soft—a feather, maybe, or perhaps fur—tickled across the back of his neck, just below the collar. It brushed lightly over his bare shoulders and up and around each ear. Although the touch was light, it left little electric trails of excitement everywhere it went. It jumped across his skin, tracing each small patch of bare flesh between the ropes. It stroked down the outside of his thigh, lingered briefly on his knee, then tickled back up the inside. His hips jerked and he and let out a small moan when it danced across his bound testicles, then teased up and down the underside of his cock, before swirling briefly around the sensitive head. He clenched unconsciously around the plug in his ass and whimpered at its unyielding resistance.

The feather touched and teased its way up and down his other thigh, across his stomach, over his chest, until he felt as if every nerve in his body was tingling in its wake. The light tickle then became the velvety warmth of fingers gently retracing the feather's original path. Fingers soon became fingernails, scratching across skin that was, by now over-sensitized and yet craving greater intensity. His head buzzed as his senses were overwhelmed. Calloused palms came to rest on his shoulders as Krem positioned himself over Dorian, straddling the chair. Dorian could feel the heat radiating off his skin, inches in front of his face, and the soft warmth of Krem's thighs just touching the outside of his own.

"Are you ready?" Krem asked softly from somewhere just above.

Dorian nodded eagerly, and Krem kissed him.

Dorian opened his mouth to receive the tongue that teased against his lips, and allowed it to take him over, flicking across his own tongue and tickling the roof of his mouth. It was almost enough to distract him from the tight grip around his cock, and the hot slickness at the head when Krem lined Dorian up with his hole. After a moment's resistance it opened up and sucked him in. Dorian groaned at how hot and tight it was as Krem slid down, impaling himself on Dorian's prick until he came to rest on Dorian's thighs. Dorian let his head fall back and marveled at the sensation. It had been far too long since he'd done this. Well, he supposed technically he had never done this. He giggled giddily.

"Wanna share?" Krem asked, nuzzling Dorian's ear.

"Oh, I was just thinking how, according to the strictest definition of the term, you've just taken my virginity." he said. He tensed, belatedly hoping he hadn't just crossed a line.

"Hmmm. That so?" Krem asked, voice unreadable. His fingers were tracing the patterns between the ropes across Dorian's chest. His thumbs came to rest on Dorian's nipples, and he flicked and stroked them while he ran his tongue around the shell of Dorian's ear, making Dorian's eyes roll behind the blindfold. Dorian moaned and pulled against the ropes, thrusting uselessly in an attempt to gain some friction on his aching cock. Krem stubbornly rode him out, refusing to budge.

"So, how does it feel to finally be a man?" Krem teased a moment later.

"Exasperating," Dorian snarked. He bucked his hips again in frustration. "Just move, already."

Krem sat back and pinched Dorian's nipple hard between his fingers, making him hiss. "Are you giving me lip?" he asked, keeping hold of the sensitive nub. There was a note of warning in his voice.

Dorian's stomach dropped. He knew better than to sass when he was collared. "No sir, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it," he said quickly, voice tight as he gritted through the pain. Krem eased his grip marginally, but didn't let go.

"I think you did mean it," Krem said, treating the other nipple to the same treatment. His voice sounded deceptively reasonable. "What do you think I should do about it?"

The pain was starting to melt into pleasure and Dorian pushed his chest into it, before suggesting hopefully, "Spank me?"

Krem chuckled and released him. "I think you would enjoy that too much," he answered. "Besides, I'd have to undo all this rope work that I worked so hard on." His voice took on a crafty, teasing tone. "What if, instead, I took off your blindfold, so you could watch, then got up and took care of myself, over there on the bed? You could then sit here, untouched, and think about how a good boy is supposed to behave until you got soft again—which will be a while with your dick all tied up like this… Especially, since I might not be able to resist coming back and teasing you every so often." He illustrated his point by raising himself up a few inches and fondling Dorian's nuts for a moment.

Dorian whimpered, both worried and deeply turned on by the idea. "No, please. I'll be good. I promise, I'll be good for you. I want to be good."

"I know you do," Krem said, running a hand comfortingly through Dorian's hair. "If I'm not careful I'm going to spoil you. But, I guess I did promise to ride you until you come dry. Maybe if you're really good for the rest of the evening, I'll even give you that spanking you want so badly, afterward."

Dorian shivered and wiggled his hips, only to let out a gasp when the plug shifted inside him and pressed into his prostate. He tried to arch his back, but the ropes held him still. It was just as well, because every time he moved, his bound hands pulled on the rope that was wrapped around his testicles, making him jump, which made his hands jerk and tug on his balls again, and so on in a vicious cycle.

Krem kissed Dorian again, and clenched around his prick. He raised himself up in agonizingly slow motion, gripping Dorian's cock tightly the entire way, before sinking back down onto Dorian's lap. Dorian moaned his appreciation into the soldier's mouth. Krem picked up the pace. It didn't take long for him to find his rhythm, rocking his hips in counterpoint to Dorian's desperate thrusting as he rode his cock. Krem's fingers found their way back to Dorian's nipples, and he tweaked and teased them mercilessly until Dorian' whole chest was tense and tingling. It reminded Dorian of the electric excitement that passed through his body when he cast Storm spells. Meanwhile, the motion of his hips against the chair made the plug in his ass grind into his sweet spot, intensifying the magnificent pressure that was building inside him. He wouldn't last much longer.

Wanting to make up for his earlier slip, Dorian made a point of asking permission before he came, although he wasn't sure if he had the strength to stop himself, if Krem said no.

"Such a good boy for asking," Krem mumbled, voice rough and low. He was clearly deep in his own pleasure. The words made Dorian's stomach clench pleasantly, and almost pushed him over before he got his answer. "Go ahead and come for me, Dorian."

Dorian groaned deep in his chest as his orgasm swelled inside him. Krem clenched down on him again, milking his cock as he came. The pleasure soon turned to pain as Krem continued to ride his over-sensitive prick. The ropes kept him hard, and kept him from squirming away.

Dorian's whimpering turned to begging, "Ah! Enough. Too much. Please."

Krem slowed, but didn't stop. "Are you red flagging, Dorian? Give me a color."

"Ah. Ah. Yellow." Krem paused. Dorian changed his mind as the intensity eased a little. He wanted to push through the pain and see what was on the other side. "No, green. I'm good. Go on."

The pain was soon replaced once more with building pleasure. Krem rode him to two more climaxes before he came himself. When he was finished, he pulled off the blindfold and held Dorian's gaze while he stroked his cheek.

"You good?" he asked. "Ready to be released?"

Dorian nodded, too spent to gather his thoughts into words. Krem reached behind Dorian to free his wrists, then scooted back far enough to access Dorian's bound prick. He picked open a knot, then quickly pulled the loosened ropes free. They both watched with interest as pent-up seed spilled out of the tip. It felt strange, as if a portion of his orgasm had been delayed until this point. The poor little guy soon flagged from sheer exhaustion.

Krem set to work untying knots and massaging tension out of stiff limbs. He gently pulled the plug out of Dorian's ass, leaving him feeling strangely empty. After a quick clean-up with a warm, damp rag, they retired to the bed to cuddle and snog. It occurred to Dorian that he had never before had Krem completely naked in his arms like this, and while he was careful to respect Krem's boundaries and resisted the temptation to cop a feel, he found himself very much enjoying the velvety warm sensation of uninterrupted skin against skin as they pressed their bodies together. Some time later, against all odds, he found himself getting aroused again.

But, Krem's mind seemed to be elsewhere. He put his hand on Dorian's chest and pushed him away gently giving him a serious look. "When I asked if you were good, you know I wasn't just making idle chitchat, right?"

Dorian rolled back onto his side. "Of course," he answered in confusion. "I know you care about my welfare."

Krem pushed himself up on one elbow. "Yes, but it's more than that. I really want to know if you're enjoying… everything. You do know that if I push you too far, or do something you don't like, you can speak up, right? I mean, yeah, we've got this power exchange thing going, but I don't ever want you to think you have to do anything you don't want to do."

Dorian sat up and took Krem's hand. "I assure you, I am very much enjoying myself. I should think climaxing three times in one go would be fairly good evidence of that." He raised an eyebrow. "What brings this on?"

Krem squeezed his hand. "It's just, sometimes—afterward—I feel guilty about the things I do to you."

"I promise, I have enjoyed everything you have ever done to me. I am not one to make a martyr of myself for another man's pleasure." He winced internally as he realized the lie in that statement. No, not a lie. He was no longer that desperate, lonely boy who would put up with near anything to feel needed, however temporarily. His time with the Inquisition had made him realize and appreciate his own value in ways he had only pretended to in the past. "I promise, if I ever feel unsure, I will let you know. And I know, with certainty, that you are a good man and you will stop."

Krem looked up at him and smiled. He looked relieved. "Good. Trust has to go both ways. You trust me to have your best interests at heart. And I need to trust you to also have your best interests at heart. I was worried that you didn't know that, that I hadn't made it clear."

Dorian looked down at their entwined hands and nodded pensively. "Honestly, your concern was not entirely unfounded. I hadn't really thought that much about it." He held up a placating hand. "I have never actually felt any great need to, as you have never seriously challenged my limits. But, perhaps, it would make us both feel more… secure if we had a long discussion about what we enjoy and what we don't. That way we could better gauge where we stand." He smiled devilishly. "Who knows, maybe we'd even find we could actually take things much further."

Krem nodded. "That's probably a good idea."

"But first," Dorian said with a wicked grin, "I think you owe me a spanking."

"I owe you?" Krem chuckled. "I don't think you quite get the concept of punishment."

"That's where you do terrible things to me, that I enjoy much more than I should, yes?"

Krem snorted, amused. "Sure, why not. Let's go with that definition." He sat up and gave Dorian an appraising look. "If that's what you want…" He put on his commander's voice. "On your feet, mage. If you're not standing at attention in front of me in five seconds, I'll add another ten smacks to your punishment. One."

Dorian scrambled off the bed, and was in position, standing at attention—in more ways than one—by the time Krem got to four.

Krem stood and took a slow walk around him, running his eyes critically up and down Dorian's body. "Not bad. Put your hands behind your head, fingers interlaced, feet shoulder-width apart." He made some minute adjustments to Dorian's hand placement and kicked Dorian's legs further apart with his bare feet. "Remember how this feels, because this is how I want you, when I tell you to present."

"Yes, sir," Dorian answered, staring straight ahead.

Krem paused as he came around the front. "What's this?" he asked, wrapping his hand around Dorian's erection. "This isn't play-time. This is punishment."

"I know, sir. I'm sorry, sir. I can't help it." Dorian blushed, genuinely embarrassed at how much this was turning him on.

"Fucking perv. You're not to get off on this," Krem warned, giving him a couple of slow strokes. There was a wicked gleam in his eye as he watched Dorian struggle not to thrust into his fist. "If you loose control, I'll just have to punish you further. Now," he released Dorian's cock, sat on the bed, and patted his right thigh, "Come here and bend over my knee."

Dorian did as he was told. The position was awkward, and he struggled to balance himself without slipping. Krem urged him further up, until he was levered a little too far forward, then wrapped his other leg around Dorian's knees to give him something to brace against and keep him from tipping over. He ordered Dorian to put his hands behind his back, forcing him to keep his core tight, and to trust Krem not to let him fall face first onto the floor. It made an already vulnerable position feel even more so.

"I'm going to give you twenty swats. I want you to count them out loud. If you miss one, I start over. Got it?"

"Yes, sir." The first smack caught him by surprise, and he almost forgot to count. It heated his right butt cheek, and made his hips jerk forward, which in turn made his prick rub up against Krem's thigh. He realized that maintaining control was likely to be more difficult than he thought. "One," he gasped.

The second smack warmed his other cheek. Smacks three and four came in rapid succession, and nearly made Dorian loose count, no doubt by design. By the time he had counted fourteen his voice was tight with the combination of pain and need. What had ever possessed him to think being bent over by a warrior was a good idea? Sure, he had played this game before, but with soft, pampered Alti. This was a man whose strong hands were hardened by daily combat. At fifteen, he was seriously considering flagging out, when Krem stopped and rubbed a calloused palm over his sore backside.

"You doing alright, there, Dorian? Give me a color."

"Yellow," Dorian answered more quickly than his ego really approved of.

"Good boy," Krem said, moving his hand in soothing circles. "It's good to know your limits. Do you want to stop now? You've taken your punishment so well, we can let the rest go. I think you've learned your lesson."

Dorian was tempted, but he hated the idea of giving up once he'd started a thing. "No. I'm good. Just… maybe not quite so hard?"

Krem hesitated a second, before giving Dorian's behind a gentle squeeze. "Alright, if that's what you want. Five more. But, you'll keep counting, and if I don't like what I'm hearing, I'm going to stop. Tell me when you're ready." His tone allowed for no argument.

Interesting, Dorian thought. He hadn't realized until that moment that counting was not just an exercise in humiliation, it was a way to monitor his state of mind from the sound of his voice. That actually made Dorian feel a little easier. He took a breath and braced himself. "Ready."

The next smack was softer than the last several had been, which was not to say it was soft. Fire erupted once again across his over-sensitive skin, bringing tears to his eyes. "Sixteen," he gritted out.

He was openly crying by the time he counted twenty. It felt good, as if a sticky ball of emotion had finally broken free from behind his breastbone, and now he could really breathe for the first time in ages. Krem pulled him up half way onto the bed, and rubbed his back while making soothing noises, reaching for the bottle of elfroot lotion he kept in the bedside table. He rubbed the cool lotion into Dorian's overheated skin. The motion was relaxing, and helped Dorian regain his composure.

"There you go." Krem murmured. "You're alright. You took that so well. Such a good boy for me."

Dorian's attention shifted from his sore bottom to his still aching prick. He squirmed uncomfortably and sucked in a hiccuping breath. Krem apparently picked up on his change in mood.

"Alright, get up," he said, voice once again commanding, but not unkind. "Show me how you present."

Dorian got up and stood in the position he had been shown earlier: Back straight, feet shoulder width apart, hands laced behind his head. He was acutely aware of what a state he must be in—hair mussed and sweaty, ass undoubtedly bright red, eyes puffy, cheeks still wet. He sniffed loudly.

"Tell me why I just spanked you."

Dorian almost said, "Because I asked you to," but caught himself in time. That wasn't the answer Krem was looking for, even if it was true. He thought back to what had started all this. "Because I sassed you, while collared," he answered instead.

"That's right. Do you think you've learned your lesson?"

"Yes, sir," he said, and sniffed again.

"Turn around," Krem ordered, and Dorian did. "Your arse is such a pretty shade of red, now. Did you know that? You're going to be feeling that for a couple days, I should think. Nice." He admired his handiwork in silence for a moment, sliding his hands over Dorian's bottom. Then, giving it a light pat that made Dorian jump and hiss, he said, "You may turn around and finish yourself off, now."

Dorian flushed in embarrassment, but turned to face Krem, took himself in hand, and did as he was told. It didn't take long, and he didn't have much left in him when he finally spilled over his own fist.

"Such a good boy," Krem praised as he finished, inspiring an extra little excited spurt from Dorian's sapped out member. He pointed at the floor. "Kneel." Dorian, feeling a little weak-kneed from his orgasm, gratefully knelt before him. Krem ran his fingers through Dorian's hair and pulled him forward to kiss his forehead. "You did well. I'm so proud of you," he said, earning himself a beatific smile. He reached behind Dorian's neck, unfastened the collar and put it carefully aside on the bedside table. Then he threw the blankets back and crawled between the sheets. Holding them open he patted the mattress. "Now, come to bed."

Dorian climbed in and snuggled up, putting his head on Krem's shoulder and hugging his body close. He sighed contentedly, enjoying how the cool sheets fluttered down over his hot bottom as Krem tucked him in. Warm and relaxed, he soon drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Dorian lay on his back, collared, wrists tied to the headboard, legs in the air, riding the forward edge of an impending orgasm. Krem was pounding him hard with his silverite cock, punching desperate little noises out of Dorian with every stroke. With one hand he was flicking a fingernail rapidly over Dorian's left nipple, while his other pinched and pulled Dorian's right. If there was such thing as a nipple orgasm, Dorian was riding on the edge of that, too. His entire body writhed and shivered as he was torn between anticipation of his imminent release, and the desperate desire for this agonizing ecstasy to go on, and on forever.

There was a knock on the door.

"Fasta vass!" Dorian moaned under his breath. "Go away!"

Krem released Dorian's nipples and sat back with just the head of his cock still breaching the mage's hole. Dorian whined at the loss of sensation.

"Yes?" Krem called, managing to sound only slightly irritated.

A muffled voice came through the door, "Lieutenant Aclassi? I'm sorry to disturb you sir, but you're wanted in the war room."

"Fuck." Krem muttered. He sighed in resignation. "Tell them I'll be there shortly." He dropped his voice so only Dorian could hear. "Just as soon as I finish this." He returned to playing with Dorian's left nipple, and wrapped his other hand around Dorian's cock. He gave it an agonizingly slow pull, grinning wickedly as Dorian's eyes rolled and he arched his back.

"Um…" came the nervous voice on the other side of the door. "Is… Is Lord Pavus with you?"

"I think they've found out about us," Krem whispered teasingly, continuing his slow-motion torture. Krem had been working on Dorian's lingering reticence about public displays of affection ever since they had decided to be "officially a couple." Dorian readily enjoyed a bit of secret hand-holding under the table at the tavern, but was still profoundly uncomfortable with more obvious public intimacy. Talking to a stranger through the door while tied to the bed and being fucked senseless was not really in his comfort zone.

"Only… he's wanted as well," the voice continued when there was no immediate reply.

Just as Dorian reluctantly opened his mouth to answer, Krem slammed his cock home in Dorian's ass, bumping over his prostate on the way. At the same time, he firmed up his grip on Dorian's cock and gave it several rapid strokes, sending Dorian plummeting over the edge. Mind-numbing pleasure washed away every trace of a response from Dorian's lips. He just barely managed to maintain enough self-awareness to stifle the loud moan that nearly escaped him as he bucked and writhed on the bed.

Somewhere far away he heard Krem call out, "I'll let him know. Thank you, soldier."

"You are a cruel man," Dorian huffed, when he had regained his faculties.

"I know," Krem answered with a grin as he untied Dorian's wrists. "But that's why you love me."

"You're not entirely wrong, Amatus," Dorian answered.

The meeting they had been summoned to turned out to be a planning session for a proposal that Bull had brought to the Inquisitor, via his Ben-Hassrath contacts: A joint mission with the Qunari Antaam to stop Red Lyrium traders on the Storm Coast. Dorian, for one, was skeptical; But how much of his skepticism was well-founded, and how much was the result of a life-time of viewing the Qunari as the enemy remained to be seen. In any case, they were here, now, scheduled to meet with Bull's contact in the morning for a last-minute rendezvous before the actual mission.

Dorian awoke with the birds just before dawn. The rain had not let up since last night, and the air in the tent was cold and damp and left a clammy skin on every surface. He snuggled down deeper under the warm covers. Krem stirred next to him. In the dim filtered light from the camp fires, Dorian could just make out the glint reflecting off of Krem's open eyes. Warm hands reached out to him, stroked his chest and tweaked a nipple in invitation.

Dorian hesitated. He could hear Bull snoring softly on the other side of the tent. If they were quiet, nobody would know, but that didn't make him any less uneasy. The thing that ultimately decided him was the knowledge that they would be going to battle in just a couple of hours, and there was always the chance that one of them would not make it back alive. He rolled over and pulled himself up on top of Krem, taking comfort in his warmth and the way their lips and tongues moved together in a well-rehearsed dance. Somehow they both managed to slip out of their smalls in near silence, without allowing too much cold air to invade their warm little cocoon. Dorian sighed as he slipped between Krem's legs, and buried himself deep inside his body. They lay still for a moment, fingers intertwined next to Krem's head, eyes making silent promises in the semidarkness, enjoying the intimacy. Eventually Krem bucked his hips impatiently—a signal to start moving. Dorian rolled his hips and bit gently at Krem's neck, stifling the groan that almost bubbled up from his chest.

This had become their habit recently: In the mornings, Dorian would make slow, sleepy love to Krem, and in the evenings Krem would fuck Dorian into jelly. He found it a deeply satisfying arrangement. Of course, out on the road, there were few opportunities for privacy, given how thin the canvas walls of their tents were, and the necessity of sharing, so for the past two weeks, as they traveled to the Storm Coast, they had been existing in a state of perpetual sexual frustration. It lent a degree of urgency to their love making this morning. A finger tracing down his spine and a tight squeeze on his behind had Dorian twitching and spurting inside his lover, holding his breath in an effort to remain utterly silent through his orgasm. When the fog cleared his head, he gave Krem a devilish smile and slipped under the covers. He kissed and nibbled his way down Krem's body, pushing his legs up and back, so he could access all of his most sensitive places. Not until he had licked and fingered Krem to a frantically muffled climax did he allow himself the luxury of dozing off, for just a moment, wrapped in warm, soft limbs and the pleasant haze of afterglow.

When he awoke again, it was full daylight. Bull was towering over their pile of bedding and nudging Krem with the toe of his boot.

"Time to get up, you two love-birds," he said with a grin.

Dorian scrambled back over to his side of the blankets, slightly embarrassed to have been caught in such an intimate embrace, even if they were openly sharing their bed. Krem just stretched and yawned, appearing to be completely unfazed. After an awkward dive and search beneath the covers for their underwear, they dragged themselves out of bed and stumbled out to face the day.

Dorian disliked Gatt on sight. Perhaps it was the way he greeted them with a wholesale condemnation of Dorian's homeland, lumping his entire country in with the blighted Venatori—which was especially galling considering Dorian had spent the better part of a year working to undermine Venatori efforts even before bringing them to the Inquisition's attention. Then, when Gatt followed his insults with Holier-Than-Thou, Praise-the-Qun propaganda, pasted over a few uncomfortable truths… well, it just rubbed Dorian the wrong way. He wasn't proud of the way he responded. He was aware that he was being too defensive, pushing back too aggressively, deliberately trying to goad Gatt into an argument. And he knew he was walking dangerously close to the line when the Inquisitor gave him a dark look and politely told him to knock it off.

The whole march up the cliff, he was plagued by nagging suspicions about this whole situation. It wasn't just that he distrusted the Qun on principal, though there was that. There were other, little things that niggled at him, and put him on edge. Gatt seemed far too interested in Bull's relationship with The Chargers, for one thing. And, his explanation for why they had to use a small skirmish force, instead of the Inquisition army, while reasonable, seemed a little too pat. In addition, the Qun's offer of alliance, while plausible on the surface, just didn't seem in keeping with the way they usually operated. Something just felt… off.

At first, everything seemed to go to plan. It was almost too easy. And then it all went to shit.

Dorian realized that they had been played just a fraction of a second after the first wave of Venatori ground troops appeared on the beach. Of course, he should have seen it sooner—probably would have, had he not been away from the viper pit that was the Magisterium for so long. A lifetime of political training kicked in and had him running all the scenarios for how this could go down. Worst case: The Qun only has to risk one ship, and no ground troops to take out a Red Lyrium smuggling operation and a dangerous Venatori cell. Best case: They also bring their spy back to heel, while securing a potentially powerful ally in the Inquisition, all with very few resources on the line and little explicitly promised in return. His insides turned to ice as he realized what his failure to see this sooner was about to cost: The Chargers were meant to be Bull's tribute to the Qun.

It took everything in Dorian not to blast Gatt into oblivion as he blathered on about Bull's duty and loyalty, while The Chargers' window of escape was rapidly closing.

"You can't seriously tell me that this is a choice you have to think about?" Dorian sputtered, aghast. Bull wouldn't look at him. Instead, he turned to the Inquisitor for guidance. Dorian turned his accusing gaze in that direction as well.

The Inquisitor held up a hand, and spoke softly, "It's not that simple…"

"It is that simple," Dorian cut in. "That's The Chargers that you are considering sacrificing. For what? Vague promises? An undefined alliance with militant fanatics?" He turned frantically toward The Iron Bull, "That's your boys about to be slaughtered out there. Stitches, Rocky, Dalish… Krem." His voice cracked on the last name.

Bull gave him a look of abject misery. On any other day, in any other situation, Dorian might have spared some pity for him, might have recognized the impossible position Bull had been put in. But in that moment, the only emotions he had room for were rising panic and a sudden, blinding fury. He lashed out with his magic. Much as he would have liked to immolate Gatt where he stood, he maintained enough discipline to keep his attack non-lethal, choosing instead a low-level casting of Horror to drive his next point home.

A flash of purple and a blood curdling scream had half of their own party stumbling backwards on shaky legs. Even Dorian felt a quickening of his heartbeat from being within the radius of his own spell. Bull's eye went wide, and he took two steps back as fire sprang from Dorian's upturned palm and licked around his wrist.

"So help me, Bull," Dorian growled, low and cold, "If you don't call them off in the next three seconds, I will cook your insides, and watch you die a slow and agonizing death."

The Inquisitor gasped out Dorian's name in shock, hand reaching blindly for a weapon. There would undoubtedly be consequences, but in that moment he couldn't bring himself to care. He heard Krem's voice in the back of his head: I would happily have you guarding my back any day of the week. Dorian would do just that, or die trying, consequences be damned.

"Typical 'Vint," Gatt spat, voice wobbling with fear. "Is that what you would throw everything away for, Hissrad? A little band of bas leavings and that pet basra of yours who sleeps with this dangerous thing?" He turned toward the Inquisitor, face screwed up in anger, and sneered, "Why don't you keep your mage on a leash, Inquisitor?"

The Inquisitor suddenly seemed to break free from the mire of indecision and started snapping out orders. "Bull, call the retreat. Gatt, shut it. Dorian… "

But, Dorian didn't stick around to be dressed down. The sound of the horn was still echoing off the cliffs when his feet hit the path down to the rendezvous point.

Chapter Text

Dorian hit the trail at a dead run, sliding over loose shale and leaping over boulders in the path. His ankle twinged as he landed awkwardly, but he ignored the pain and kept going. Watch yourself, mage. You'll do me no good if you break an ankle on the way down, he heard Krem say in his head, and slowed just a fraction, placing his feet more carefully, until he hit the flat and pushed himself into a flat-out sprint. His mind kept going back to that morning, when he had scrambled away from Krem the moment he realized they were being observed, and to all those other times when he had shrugged off an arm around his shoulder, or shaken his hand free from Krem's for fear of being seen. How stupid and petty had he been? Right now he would suffer a thousand scandalized looks, and any amount of gossip if he could just have Krem in his arms again.

Please be alright. Please, Maker, please let him be alright. Please get them out of there in time. He had never been much of one for prayer, Andrastian more by default than by anything resembling deep faith, but he threw every ounce of conviction he had into his pleas, hoping somebody out there would hear them.

His lungs were burning, and there was a stitch in his side by the time he rounded the corner to the rendezvous point. No one was there. Tears sprang to his eyes as he fought down panic, and fought to catch his breath. Maybe they were still on the way. He should wait. Maybe they had missed the window and were fighting for their lives while he waited. Maybe they needed help. Still struggling to draw air into his lungs, he lurched into a limping trot toward their last known location. He mentally prepared himself for casting, regretting the mana he had wasted throwing Horror at Bull and Gatt.

And then he heard the most blessed sound in all of Thedas: Krem laughing. Joy and relief flooded his chest, and he picked up his pace. He ambushed them as they came around a bend in the path, picking Krem right off his feet and swinging him in a circle before hugging him tightly and pulling him into a feverish kiss. He was dimly aware of the other Chargers hooting and cat-calling around them. Let them. Krem was safe.

Eventually, Krem had to push Dorian away so he could take a breath. "Nice to see you, too," he said, laughing. Then he spotted the tears still running down Dorian's cheeks, and his face fell into a look of concern. "What happened, Amatus?" he asked, brushing a tear away with his thumb.

Dorian shook his head, too overcome to speak, and pulled him in for another kiss, this one less desperate, but just as passionate. His hands roamed over Krem's body, rejoicing in the solid presence of him. Krem eagerly returned the favor.

"'Bout bloody time," Stitches grumbled.

"Do you think he's going to have him right here in ze road?" Skinner wondered.

"Gotta hand it to those 'Vints," Rocky chuckled, "When they finally let their hair down, they don't do it by half-measures."

Grim grunted in agreement.

Krem waved a hand vaguely over Dorian's shoulder. "You guys go on, I'll meet you back at camp," he said, when Dorian let him up for air again. He had already gotten Dorian's robes half open, and was running his other hand over Dorian's bare chest. He hooked his fingers in the front of the mage's trousers and used them as a handle to drag Dorian into the scrub by the side of the road.

There was more laughter and good-natured ribbing as the Chargers turned away.

"How come you never greet me like that?" they heard Dalish ask as they disappeared around the bend.

"What? With a rut in ze bushes?" Skinner scoffed. "Because, I do not wish poison ivy dans le minou."

"Well, you don't do it in the poison ivy, obviously," Dalish answered with a tut. "City elves."

They moved out of earshot before Krem and Dorian heard the reply.

They broke apart long enough to scramble over a rocky outcrop and into a small ravine, out of sight of the road, where weapons, gauntlets, pauldrons, hauberk, all rapidly hit the rocky ground with loud clangs. Dorian pushed Krem up against a large boulder, his tongue wrestling with Krem's while they both blindly tugged at shirt tails and fumbled with laces. Dorian shrugged his robes off before letting his hands burrow down the back of Krem's trousers. He kissed his way across Krem's jaw and down his neck. Krem threw his head back and moaned when Dorian licked sweat and salt-spray from the hollow of his throat.

"Amatus," Dorian panted. "I need you." He needed him in a way he had never needed anybody in his life: Not just to satisfy an itch, or as an antidote to loneliness, but as if there were an aching hole in his soul, and the only way to fill it was to make their two bodies blend into one. He frantically pushed Krem's shirt up, out of the way, and pressed their bellies together, seeking the sensation of flesh against flesh. Krem pushed him back long enough to shuck off the offending garment, then tugged Dorian's breeches down to mid-thigh. He took Dorian's half-hard prick in one calloused hand, and stroked it firmly. Dorian groaned and pushed Krem's trousers down as far as he could reach, before wrapping his arms around him and lowering him gently onto the shale.

The sky opened up about then, cold rain pelting down on them, running in rivulets down the valleys between muscles, flattening hair, beading on the end of Dorian's nose as he leaned over his lover. He shivered, both from the cold and from wanting, and sought refuge in the warmth of Krem's body. Krem fumbled awkwardly with the buckles of one greave, which fell away with a clank. Seeing what he was trying to do, Dorian pulled on the heel of Krem's boot, and the soldier was finally able to kick himself free of both boot and trouser leg, and used the freed limb to drag Dorian's hips into position. Sliding into that tight heat felt like a revelation, almost as awe-inspiring as his first time. To think how close he had come to never being able to do this with Krem again, brought tears to Dorian's eyes once more. He shivered again, and Krem wrapped both arms and legs around him, pulling him close and protecting him from the worst of the cold.

"I love you, Krem. I should have said it long ago: I love you." Dorian whispered the words fiercely into Krem's ear. "You don't know how close I came to loosing you today." He rolled his hips, fervently trying to fuck away the lingering fear. "They were everywhere. Powerless to stop them. I'd do anything to keep you safe. Anything. I'm sorry, so sorry. Just want to hold on. Never let go." His lips kept moving, a litany of the day's emotions pouring out in time with his thrusts. But he kept coming back to the only words that really mattered: "I love you."

It was near dark by the time they made it back to camp. The rain had stopped again, but they were sopping wet and shivering with cold when they ducked into their tent to change. They found Skinner and Dalish there, spreading blankets out over their shared bedrolls.

"What's this?" asked Krem in surprise.

Dalish glanced up from the bundle of clothing she was scrunching into a makeshift pillow at the top of their bedding. "Bull asked us to trade."

Krem frowned in confusion. "Why?"

Skinner shrugged. "Didn't say."

Dorian kept his mouth shut, and focused on finding a dry shirt and a pair of trousers to change into. He wasn't ready to have this conversation with Krem yet. In truth, he didn't want to have it at all. He wasn't sorry for what he'd done, precisely, but he was ashamed of the way he had handled himself, allowing innocent people to get caught in his casting. He also had no desire to tell his lover that the man Krem looked up to like a big brother had very nearly sacrificed him to the Qun. He supposed he would eventually have to say something. There was a very good chance he would either be arrested, or sent packing before the day was over. But in the mean time, he intended to spend every second he had left by Krem's side making up for all the times he had hidden his affections.

He decided to spend a little mana on a heat spell to at least dry their cloaks before they headed out to see what there was to eat. Dorian spotted Bull's horns in the firelight near the cliffs. The Qunari glanced up and their eyes met. Bull looked wary, while Dorian schooled his face into impassive indifference, and pulled Krem closer with a protective arm around his waist. He subtly steered them toward one of the fires in the opposite direction.

"You really should have that ankle looked at," Krem was saying. "Your limp is getting worse."

He was right. Dorian had spent a couple minutes probing it in their tent. It felt hot and swollen. One of these days he really needed to put some concentrated effort into learning some healing spells. "Maybe later," Dorian said stubbornly.

Once they each had a bowl of ram's head stew, and a mug of ale, Dorian tried to guide them over to the fire on the outskirts of camp where the scouts usually gathered. Scouts tended to be quiet and reserved, as befitted their solitary position, and quiet sounded really good to Dorian at the moment. But, inevitably, Krem spotted the Chargers and headed in that direction. Dorian was relieved to find that Bull had not yet joined them. Maybe he would be too ashamed to show his face at all. One could only hope.

A cry went up as they approached.

"Hey, Krem! We were starting to wonder if you'd worn your mage out, and had to carry him back to camp," called out an archer, whose name escaped Dorian, as they squeezed in next to the fire.

"Not possible," Krem replied flippantly. "This one's got the stamina of a hundred horses." He gave Dorian a nudge and a wink.

"Is he hung like one, too?" someone snickered, and Krem replied by waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Dorian blushed. He would never quite get used to all this crude hazing that went on amongst soldiers, but he was beginning to see that it was meant as nothing more than friendly banter.

Rocky nudged him from the other side. "So, what's your secret? Sex magic? Some kind of endurance spell?"

Dorian decided to play along. "Of course. It's all part of our training at the Circle of Magi. How else are we supposed to endure all those endless orgies at the Magisterium?" This got him a laugh.

"Mmmm. Sex magic. Sounds both fun and terrifying," opined a dwarven scout sitting with Stitches.

Skinner nodded sagely and Dalish kicked her when she said, "It is."

"Dalish is not a mage!" the whole group chorused, and broke into raucous laughter.

A bottle of some, unidentified, liquor was making its way around the circle, and Dorian grimaced as he took a swig and passed it on. Whatever it was tasted like turpentine, and went down like fire, but it gave him a pleasant buzz. Perhaps it was this that gave him the courage to pull Krem into his lap when the soldier came back from refilling his mug of ale. He wrapped his arms tightly around Krem's waist and, after planting a sloppy kiss on his ear, rested his chin on Krem's shoulder. He sighed contentedly. Laughter, acceptance, his Amatus warm in his lap. He could very much get used to this. If only he hadn't, once again, allowed himself to impetuously make self-destructive decisions.

He heard his father's voice in the back of his mind. Your problem, Dorian, is that you have no self-control. You allow yourself to give in to every temptation. This has to stop. He shivered and quickly shied away from that memory.

At least this time, he had acted for the right reasons. He didn't regret taking a stand against Bull. He still would have burned him where he stood, taken the horn, and called the retreat himself, if that was what it took. But, what in all of Thedas had possessed him to attack the Herald of Andraste? He would be lucky if he was just asked to leave. And, there was no way he could ask Krem to give up the Chargers and go with him, if that happened. In saving Krem's life, he may very well have ensured that he would never see his Amatus again.

And now they would both have to live with the consequences.

Chapter Text

"Dorian. A word?"

Dorian looked up. There it was. The other shoe about to drop. He wondered if he was facing prison time, or if he would simply be asked to leave the Inquisition. It was not beyond the realm of possibility that he could be executed for raising his staff against the Herald of Andraste, but given the fact that he hadn't been arrested the moment he arrived back at camp, he was optimistic that it wouldn't come to that.

"Of course, Inquisitor," he said, disentangling himself from Krem and rising to follow, limping, away from the fires to a semi-secluded area on the outskirts of camp, out of earshot. He spent the walk organizing his thoughts, but when he opened his mouth to make his case, the Inquisitor stayed him with a raised hand. He had rarely seen his leader look so troubled, so he held his tongue and waited.

"First, I want you to know that I understand why you did what you did. Under similar circumstances, I might have done the same. And you were right. It should not have been a difficult choice." A pause. Brows wrinkled, eyes pained, the Inquisitor continued in carefully measured tones, "I have to make decisions every day that affect the entirety of Thedas. I'm not trained in politics or battle on a massive scale; I'm completely winging it, here. Which is why I rely so heavily on input from my inner circle, and why I brought you on this mission; I knew that your distrust of the Qun would counterbalance Bull's… potential blind spots, and that your training as a statesman makes you a shrewd analyst. I was counting on you to provide me with the other side of the story. I had no intention of dismissing your concerns out of hand, but I had to consider the bigger picture before making a final decision.

"Like I say, I understand why you did what you did. But…" The carefully constructed calm started to crack, and Dorian felt his stomach sink at the emotion he could hear bubbling under the surface. Not anger. Anger he could handle. What he heard was profound disappointment. "Maker, Dorian! You attacked your own party with magic. Do you have any idea how serious that is?" The question was clearly rhetorical, so Dorian held his peace.

"There is a great deal of fear and distrust in Southern Thedas when it comes to magic; The area is still reeling from the Mage Rebellions, and people are angry that I have apostates in my inner circle. How do you think they are going to react if it gets out that a mage—a Tevinter mage, no less—worked his way into my inner circle, and then used his magic against Inquisition forces, and against me, personally?" Dorian's protest was abruptly cut off. "And, yes, I know that it was a non-lethal spell. And, I've seen you work often enough to realize you were pulling your punches, and didn't cast at full power. But that will make little difference once the rumors start flying. One moment of rashness, whether or not it was justified, has potentially undone months of careful diplomacy and influence building. That is not something I can take lightly."

Dorian's heart sank into his stomach.

"Do you have any idea what a difficult position you've put me in? If I let this go unpunished, I send the message that people can attack me and my people with impunity. If I make an example of you, I put power in the hands of those who have been criticizing me for trusting you, when everyone—literally everyone—warned me not to." It felt as if a knife twisted in Dorian's gut, and he looked away, ashamed. "Tell me what you think I should do right now? Because, you've pushed me up against a wall, here, and I would really like to know what you think the solution would be."

Dorian had been twisting his fingers nervously. He looked down at his hands, and willed himself to stop. He blinked back tears. He had fucked up, and he knew it. And yet… "I won't apologize for threatening Bull," he said defiantly. "I do not regret it, and I would do it again, under the same circumstances." He flinched internally at the Inquisitor's exasperated sigh. "I do, however, regret that I allowed you to be caught in the fallout. That I have broken the trust you put in me, fills me with no end of remorse. You have been a true friend to me, and I betrayed that friendship."

Dorian's eyebrows drew together, and he considered his words before he continued. "Do you remember? A long time ago, back in Redcliff, I promised that I would protect you." He looked up at the Inquisitor, earnestly. "I meant it then, and I still mean it now. I never would have done you actual harm. I hope you know that. But, you see, I find I've come to feel that same… protectiveness for someone else…"

"Krem," the Inquisitor interjected.

Dorian's heart skipped a beat, in a knee-jerk response. He reminded himself that there was no need for secrecy, and acknowledged the truth. "Yes, Krem. I couldn't… In that moment, there was no big picture for me. I was too close to the situation for that. There was only a threat, and a means to end that threat. It's not an excuse, only an explanation. " He took a deep breath and said the words that tore him apart to say: "I understand if you feel that I have broken your trust beyond repair. If my presence feels like a threat to you, perhaps it would be best if I left."

The Inquisitor's eyes were sad. "No, Dorian. That's not what I'm angling for. I value your counsel, and I would still like to think of you as a friend. My confidence in you has been shaken, I admit, but not broken, and I don't want you to leave." Dorian released a shaky breath. He hadn't realized how much of a home he had made in Skyhold, until he thought he was about to lose it. The Inquisitor continued, "And, in any case, I'm not sure your leaving would help very much. The damage would already be done." There was a long pause, the Inquisitor's words hanging uncomfortably between them. "I've spent the last few hours doing damage control and putting a lot of thought into how best to handle this situation. I've decided to spin it as an accident. Not that a mage out of control is much better, as far as many people are concerned. But, without the intent to do harm…well."

Dorian snorted and swallowed down a sour lump of pride. "Better incompetent, than malicious, is it?" he snarked, feeling relieved, despite his wounded dignity.

"Frankly, yes," the Inquisitor answered shortly. "Only a few of us were close enough to hear what actually happened, although I'm sure everyone for miles around saw the light show. Of those who were there, Solas sees the value in keeping this quiet to protect all of the mages. Bull… Bull's scared of you now. But, he also feels guilty, so he doesn't want to press the issue. That just leaves you, me and Varric." The inquisitor smiled wryly. "And you know how much Varric loves a good love story." Dorian crossed his arms and fidgeted uncomfortably, rolling his eyes as the Inquisitor went on. "The hard part was convincing him that he can't use it in his book about the Inquisition. I compromised by telling him he could use the story in one of his romance serials, so long as he changes enough details to give us plausible deniability." The wry smile turned mischievous. "I believe he plans to make you a Navarran Duchess."

Dorian sighed. "My dear Herald, I do believe you are enjoying this," he said in mock-outrage.

The Inquisitor winked, then went on, "So, here is the official story: When I ordered the retreat, putting the dreadnaught in danger, Gatt threatened me. You attempted to incapacitate him with a fear spell, but he was wearing an amulet that deflected the spell back on us."

"Oh good, I'm not entirely incompetent, then. What a relief." Dorian said it sarcastically, but really it was. He took great pride in his magical abilities, and chafed at being seen as inept.

The Herald raised an eyebrow, clearly not fooled by Dorian's act, but went on without comment. "Unfortunately, Gatt got away in the confusion. Just so you know, Varric's already spreading the amusing, farcical tale of how you scared the crap out of all of us. You owe him a drink, and probably the rights to your life story." The Inquisitor quirked a small, amused smile at Dorian.

"Oh, Maker take me now," Dorian moaned, theatrically.

"Have you told… anyone else… what happened?" the Inquisitor asked.

Dorian smiled wryly. "You mean Krem? No. If he knew how close Bull came to betraying the Chargers, it would devastate him. I just can't do that to him."

The Inquisitor nodded. "That's probably for the best. If you change your mind, be sure to impress on him the need to keep it to himself. Now… Go hold your beloved close tonight, and be ready to ride back to Skyhold in the morning. Oh, and Dorian? Have someone look at that ankle."

Dorian had hardly walked fifty paces toward camp when he heard the scuff of a boot in the shadow of one of the tents. He tensed, and drew power, his fingers already working up a defensive spell. He had just enough time to regret leaving his staff in his tent, when he registered who was stepping into the light.

"Can we talk for a moment?" Bull asked, blocking Dorian's path. He looked wary but determined.

Dorian gathered the energy from his half-formed spell back into himself, crossed his arms across his chest, put on his haughtiest bored-Altus look, and gave Bull a curt nod.

Bull took a deep breath. "I just wanted to say, thank you."

Well, that was unexpected. Dorian shifted and tilted his head curiously.

Bull continued, "Thank you for standing up for my boys. You had their backs, when I should have."

Dorian bobbed his head in acknowledgment, slightly thrown off. "Of course," he said, and couldn't resist adding, "Someone had to."

Bull sighed and nodded, but otherwise didn't react. He drew himself upright, staring over Dorian's head at a point somewhere in the distance. "I need you to promise me something."

Dorian snorted and shook his head in disbelief, but Bull pushed ahead.

"I need you to promise me that, when the day comes that I loose control, you'll have their backs again. That you won't hesitate to put me down."

Dorian gaped at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"I'm Tal-Vashoth, now. Trust me, Dorian. I've hunted enough Tal-Vashoth to know what they become. It's not pretty. Without the Qun, we're little more than animals. It's only a matter of time."

"Don't be ridiculous," Dorian scoffed. "That's like saying, because I'm an Altus, I have no choice but to become a blood mage. You haven't become a different person. You're still The Iron Bull." He huffed, irritated that he was about to say something nice about Bull, when he wasn't ready to forgive him yet. "Whatever I might think of you at the moment, you have values and ideals that run deep. What keeps you from acting on your impulses is not fear of the Tamassrans, or having every thought and action dictated for you. It's a part of you, deep inside, that cares about people and drives you to protect them. As much as it pains me to say it, Bull, you are an honorable man. The fact is, the only time I have ever seen you do anything to be truly ashamed of was when you hesitated to call the retreat, and that was under orders from the Qun. If that's what becomes of their influence, I say good riddance."

Bull scowled. "You wouldn't understand."

"No? Then explain it to me." Dorian arched an eyebrow. "What kept you in line for all those months when you were effectively out of the Qun's reach?" Bull's gaze slid to the side, but he said nothing. Dorian moved on to his next point. "And what prevents you from continuing to use their teachings to maintain control of yourself, now that you have left?"

Bull considered Dorian silently for several seconds then grunted. "We'll see," he said skeptically. "If you're right, neither of us has anything to worry about," he said, reasonably. "But if you're wrong… I need to know my men are safe. It would be too easy for me to hurt them. I could take them all down before they even knew what hit them. I know their weaknesses—the biggest being that they won't want to hurt me. I don't think that would be an issue for you, would it?" Dorian didn't answer, and Bull seemed to take it as an affirmation. "In any case, I know you'll do whatever it takes to protect Krem. That's why I'm asking you, of all people. So… will you promise?"

Dorian sighed. "Fine. I promise that, should the need arise, I will not spare any thought to striking you down where you stand," he said in an exasperated tone. "If you like, I could then raise you from the dead, and kill you all over again, just for good measure. Happy?"

Bull's eye narrowed and his lip curled into a half-smile. "Awww… You're the best," he growled and slapped Dorian's shoulder hard enough to make him stagger. His face grew somber again. "Have you told him, yet, what happened up there?" They both knew who he was talking about.

Dorian shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, Bull, I haven't. And I would rather not. I don't have the stomach for hurting him like that. Are you planning to?"

Bull mulled the question over for a moment. "I can't think of any good reason to," he answered. He looked at Dorian speculatively. "You know, when you first started seeing Krem, I was worried. He's a tough kid, but I've seen him get hurt by people who saw him as a novelty, or couldn't accept him for who he is. The pretty ones are always the worst. Too focused on themselves to see what they're doing to others. But you earned my respect today, Dorian. You scared the shit out of me. Still kinda do. But I know you've got my boy's back and that's what matters."

Dorian shifted uncomfortably under the unexpected praise. "Yes, well... Whatever our differences, I think we can agree that he's worth it."

Bull grinned. "Yeah. I think we can."

When Dorian got back to the Chargers' fire, he found Varric there, regaling them with his version of the day's events.

"So, Tiny's there, eye as wide as a Druffalo's behind, and I've just about pissed myself in terror, and Sparkler says, just as casual as can be, 'Well, that was certainly exciting, wasn't it?' "

Everyone laughed, and Krem turned sparkling eyes on Dorian. "Is this true? Did you really get hit with your own spell?"

"Is anything Varric says true?" Dorian deflected, shooting Varric a grateful look.

Varric put on an air of mock-reproach. "That hurts, Sparkler. That really hurts."

Everyone laughed again, and started peppering Varric with questions.

Dorian slipped back into his place behind Krem, wrapping his arms around the soldier's waist, and pulling him tight against his chest. Krem took his hand and turned his head to look at his mage.

"Everything alright?" he murmured for Dorian's ears only.

Dorian smiled and pecked a kiss on Krem's cheek. "Everything is perfect, Amatus."