Chapter Text
Skyhold had barely begun to warm with the breach closed. The slight green flashes in the sky, the fortress finally having finished all its extensive interior and exterior construction, the snow finally starting to melt, though the bitter air still stung in the early mornings. With the new and more pleasant weather came the no longer need for long underwear in bed, or the constant fireplaces burning to generate even just a spark of heat. People could wear more stylized pajamas, be more… adventurous.
A political delegation called the Inquisitor to Val Royeaux for a few days. They opened an invitation to any and all companions to join them to bask in warmer sunshine and fancier food than what their cooks could fashion with their great numbers. Dorian was one of the first to sign up, Vivienne and Varric were happy to go along, and The Iron Bull joined at the last possible minute (he had run out of horn balm and preferred a particular brand, also spending a few days with Dorian away from everyone seemed like a good idea). Though Dorian seemed to be buzzing with nervous energy around The Iron Bull, as if he wasn’t particularly happy with the idea of his lover coming along.
Traveling with the Inquisitor and Vivienne certainly had its perks. Vivienne was quick to send them to the best lodging in Val Royeaux fixed with as many servants they couldn’t possibly use during the trip and gluttonous, luxurious food to fill their bellies to the point of painful breathing. Dorian and The Iron Bull were sharing a room, Dorian’s room to be precisely. The larger male certainly had his own board during the delegations, but it would be nice to sleep in a bed not too cramped or Dorian whining about the cold draft at night (though the hole had been long fixed) for a change. It was spacious, the bed big enough to hold three sleeping Bulls with flowing pink curtains, gold encrusted standing mirrors, a wardrobe wider than the qunari and a large fireplace with a silk soft rug they could lounge or fuck on.
Dorian was still acting strange come the second night. Their first night was filled with tired kisses, worn hands running down scarred bodies, Dorian’s exhausted giggles and The Iron Bull’s heated grunts. But Dorian’s body seemed to shake with whatever illease had settled in that pretty little mind of his. He wasn’t as attentive nor as reactive as Bull remembers, or expects. Whatever was troubling Dorian, was troubling The Iron Bull as well.
The third day of Dorian behaving strangely was the final straw for Bull. He waited in Dorian’s room, sitting on his bed, knowing he’d return any minute with a bag full of replenished kohl and perhaps new literature on time magic, or whatever author was the hottest in Orlais. The door opened without a sound and Dorian looked slightly surprised but not truly. Walking into a room where The Iron Bull was waiting for him usually led to more… entertaining encounters, but he could sense the other’s tense body and his own tensed in heart pounding anxiety suddenly swelling in him.
“Alright big guy, you going to tell me what’s going on? I would ask if you have some boy you’re seeing, but your type of nervousness isn’t the cheating kind.” The Iron Bull looked at Dorian expectedly. Having been reluctant acquaintances, annoyed partners, and finally lovers through the last two years gave them a sense of ease, Dorian’s body was even easier to read and Dorian wasn’t too shabby with reading Bull’s carefully guarded movements.
The half dragon tooth felt heavy against Dorian’s chest, buckled safely underneath his clothes. “Well, thank you for having the decency to not accuse me.” he replied stiffly, setting his bag of beloved products on a side table decorated with lace gold doilies and fresh blood lotus in a porcelain blue vase. “I’d rather not have some silly servant hearing that conversation and spreading it to the rest of Val Royeaux. I don’t need anyone thinking you might be available.”
“Pfft, like that hasn’t stopped them before. You’re stalling Dorian.” The Iron Bull frowned a little, noticing the way Dorian wrung his hands together. “Shit, someone didn’t die or anything big?”
“What? No, I-” Dorian groaned, stopping his hands and twirled an end of his moustache. “It’s nothing so serious. Though in Tevinter it is a serious matter. Having the right style and fabric could mean rising up politically, buy your supplies with the wrong seller and suddenly your good wine is poisoned, and such a waste of good wine.”
“If you’re complaining about the ropes I use back in Skyhold, you should have mentioned it sooner. I could use some of that silky black thing you like to wear. Might feel nice on your skin, will feel better on my teeth when I-”
Dorian raised an eyebrow, looking some what amused which was better than the horrid nervous energy. Like any good session, he just needed to warm up to the idea of it first. Let his muscles loosen and take that extra inch before he broke out into that mindless babble. Shit, he might have to go find some silk rope. Surely they had all sorts here, perhaps a black… green… no, pink.
“Having fun Amatus?”
“Hm?” The Iron Bull began to laugh, surprised at himself. “I haven’t wandered off during a serious conversation for awhile.”
“Is this a serious conversation?”
“Perhaps, not a lot in this world makes you feel unnerved like this.”
“Andraste’s tits, it’s… I like nice things.” Dorian began.
“I think that’s a given big guy.”
“Don’t interrupt. I like nice things. Nice, big men, pleasant conversation, books, Orlais’ wine.”
“Mh. Doesn’t beat that shit back at Skyhold.”
“Yes, if you like damaging your throat. I said no interrupting. I like, beautiful clothing. Skyhold’s been freezing every inch of me since I decided to live there. Long, wool pajamas that itch like Skyhold made them out of potato sacks. I like silk, soft-”
“Like those little underthings you left-”
“Yes, exactly so. But it seems someone ruined my last pair a few months ago and my poor skin is rubbed raw with that hideous and barbaric underthings Skyhold likes to call underwear. You owe me several new pairs… and that’s not all I want.”
The Iron Bull’s eye narrowed for a moment before widening in surprise and he broke out in a large laugh. “Shit, yeah? You’d look damn hot in the Orlais’ panties. What, you want a full set? Stockings, garters, maybe one of those that has your ass cut out for easy access? Is that what you’ve been worried about? Telling me you like the more nonfunctional underthings?”
Dorian flushed a warm heat, relaxing more which gave The Iron Bull all he needed to know before he spoke. “You’re not… turned off by it?”
“Kadan, do I look like I’m turned off by you in sexier garments?”
“You’re turned on when I stink of fish and dragon’s breath. I thought you liked the more rugged side of it all.”
The Iron Bull growled, remembering when they fought the Emprise Du Lion High Dragon, how they all stunk of sulphuric, how Dorian smelled particularly potent of dragon after harvesting the beast’s organs and teeth. “I like you in everything, Dorian.”
Dorian rolled his eyes but seemed to be thriving under all of Bull’s affection. He always blossomed underneath Bull’s words and warmth. “Yes, I know that A little too well might I add. But do you like me in softer things? Things, might I warn you, you cannot rip to shreds at the first proper use of them.”
The Iron Bull stood and sauntered to Dorian, backing up the mage who snorted a laugh though his green eyes were quickly dilating. The mage’s back hit the door, the warrior’s large and powerful hands bracing on either side of his head and leaned in. Dorian felt his knees buckles and his throat grow dry. “How about I show you just what I think about you in delicate and expensive underthings, Kadan.”
Dorian gave another aroused giggle, closing his eyes, “Well, what are you waiting for, Amatus? A formal invitation?”
“Might be nice, Kadan.” The Iron Bull chuckled as he grabbed Dorian by the hips and slid him up the door. “Might be nice.” he whispered in Dorian’s neck who wrapped his legs tight around Bull’s bulking waist in reply.