Of Love and Lust

AN: I don't often venture into fanfic's, but Bioware apparently owns my soul and this story blossomed after completing a playthrough romancing Dorian. I love Dorian… I think he's brilliant... and I need some practise writing MxM so why the heck not? In case it's not obvious, there will be spoilers for the DAI game, I don't own bioware's stuff AND… rated 'M' for future sexiness!

ONE – Lust Scorned

Gold and silk dusted the floor of the gleaming marble room. The light, the splendour of it was dazzling. I lounged against the velvets of a luxury couch, smiling as I gazed out over the beauty of the fade. Nights like this reminded me why it was so wonderful to be a mage. Attitudes to sexuality and blood magic aside, I had to admit I was lucky to be a Tevinter Altus. It was certainly preferable to living in fear of my own abilities like they did in Southern Thedas. Besides, I doubted Southern mages got anywhere near this much… pleasurable attention. I grinned smugly to myself as a long, lithe hand dropped another succulent grape into my mouth. Maker… these desire demons were getting better and better. I was actually almost tempted this time.

That same hand reached up to tuck a long lock of purest white hair behind one pointed ear as ruby eyes smiled down at me. The curve of sensual lips pulled into a sinful smile and I felt my heartbeat quicken. He was beautiful, an almost perfect mirror of Lavellan himself, except, of course, I had never seen the Herald out of his coat. But the desire demon made up for it with a very beautiful fantasy. Vast expanses of sun-stained skin, the tattoo's extending down from his face to mark along his chest and arms.

"Am I not better than the real thing?" The demon purred, sensing my comparison and offering me another golden goblet of sweet wine as he shifted a little closer. He fixed me with his ruby gaze. "Am I not better company?" He reached out with his free hand and ran warmest fingertips along my face, the touch ghostly… incomplete.

"You are good company," I admitted, taking the goblet and sipping at the wine. "And I applaud the effort you've made. The likeness is almost perfect." I gestured to his face and body. "If I were a stupid mage, you might even have fooled me."

"I can be anything," he promised, ignoring my snide remark in favour of leaning forward, just enough that breath should have brushed my face. "I can do anything you like. I won't reject you. I won't laugh at you, or scorn you. I won't try to change you-"

"Ah yes, of course," I sighed, relaxing back against the couch as he planted kisses along my jaw to my neck. "Play upon my fears to enhance the desire, you're a clever one, aren't you." I rested one hand behind my head, with the other I ran fingers through his silken hair. I barely knew the real Lavellan. I'd helped him take down Alexius but… we'd barely had time to talk, let alone get to know each other. I didn't even know his first name…not yet. But here I was, with enough unspent yearning that desire demons of this, impressive calibre, were trying their luck.

His fingers were slipping beneath my robe, mapping out my skin with a ghostly touch. Better than the real thing? Maybe… who could say? I'd not tasted the real Lavellan's smile, nor stolen any of his touch beyond pulling him out of the line of fire or brushing my magic against his to shield him from danger. I closed my eyes and moaned as the demon began to run his tongue along the grooves of each muscle on my chest.

Lavellan's magic. He hummed a different tune. No other mage I'd ever met sounded even remotely like him. I wondered if it was the mark or if his power had always sung like that? Maybe it was his Dalish nature? He sounded... free. Wild, untameable; a tribal drumbeat amidst wind-like flutes and gentle watering chimes.

I wrinkled my nose as the demon tried desperately to mirror the desire in my heart, as he tried to mimic the song I could already hear so clearly. No, the sound of magic could not be so easily faked and the demon's version was twisted, corrupted… interrupted by the discords of my own power's song.

I shook my head and opened my eyes. "Sorry, Darling," I told him, batting him away from my bared chest. "You are a pretty mirror… but a reflection will never be as sweet as the real thing."

The demon scowled at me as he sat up, those handsome features twisting into an ugly fury. "You don't have the real thing!" he snapped. "You'll never have the real thing. He'll never look at you the way I look at you. He'll never love you the way I can."

I tutted and pushed myself up from the couch, reaching to button my robe. "Please," I scoffed, "You'll have to do better than that."

"He might not even liked men-"

I turned and pointed a finger at the demon, a triumphant smile spreading on my face. "'Might'. No, he might not… but he might well…"

Its fury was turning to desperation and he leaned forward to claw at the hem of my robe, as if this would persuade me. "You have no assurance, no guarantee. I can give you everything, right here… right now." He tilted his head back, his long neck bared in an offering.

"You're right… I don't," I agreed. "But what's the fun if I don't even try?" I set the demon with my most spiteful glare. "Why settle for a cheap knockoff?" I waved my hand at it. "Run along now, I've had all the fun I want from you; go find someone else to hire yourself out too, Harlot."

"Dorian… please…" he stood with me, reaching up to hook his lithe arms around my neck, pressing himself to me in one last desperate attempt. "Make love to me… fuck me…" he ran his hand down my chest as he kissed at my neck. "Anything you like… just… let me in… please. We go so well together, you and I. I'll make you strong, make you powerful, you can do anything with me at your side. You will be the one, the Archon that restores Tevinter…"

"Oh that is enough! You really are getting desperate now, aren't you?" I rolled my eyes and shook my head, stepping away from him. "Leave me alone. You'll get nothing from me." I raised my hand and sent a jolt of electric out to snap at his reaching hands.

He hissed… actually hissed as he recoiled. His face twisted, his nose wrinkled as he snatched his hands back. "You will fall, Dorian of house Parvus. I will have you!"

"Yes, yes, same old story." I began to will myself awake, to leave the fade before this demon turned truly nasty.

"You know not what you have scorned," he screamed. "I will not be denied! I am Lust... you cannot be free of me! You'll never be free of me, not while you stand in his company! I'll haunt you, drive you wild-"

"Oh give it a rest."

The fall of Haven

It kept replaying in my head, over and over; the moment when he shouted at us to run. Faced with an Archdemon… I did. I ran. I'd thought he'd be right behind me, but when we reached the chantry doors and I finally looked back… he wasn't there. If he had died I would never have forgiven myself. The guilt in those hours of his absence… a pity for the demons that none of them offered me a bargain then… I would have given anything for his life, for his safety. But it seemed a bargain wasn't necessary, he was chosen after all… he had to be.

Cullen and Cassandra had gone out looking for him. I would have gone with them, but neither trusted 'the Tevinter mage' yet. Instead I waited with Varric, my heart leaping wildly when I saw them come back around the mountain with Lavellan draped over Cullen's back, unconscious, but still humming… still alive.

They still wouldn't let me help. I knew healing magic, but they turned to Solas instead. The jealousy as I watched the other elven mage touch Lavellan- watched him bind his wounds and reset his broken arm- rose up as burning bile in my throat. They didn't trust me… I didn't trust them. Not with him… not with Lavellan.

I shook my head and turned away. What was wrong with me? I'd never been so pathetically possessive in my life. I'd certainly never been jealous… not like this. I ran a hand over my hair and smoothed out my moustache. It was the desire demon still lingering on the edge of my thoughts, it had to be. I needed to stay away, both from that glorious palace, and from the real Lavellan. If there was a demon hovering… feeding on my lust… I couldn't let it touch Lavellan.

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. My heart leapt in my chest. He was awake. Finally. My breath of relief misted in the cold air in front of my face. He was coherent, talking with that chantry mother as the higher circle of the Inquisition bickered like children. It was getting us nowhere, and Lavellan seemed to agree. He pushed himself onto exhausted feet and moved towards them, meaning to give them what for, I was sure. But his strength seemed to fail him half way and he ended up leaning against one of the tent posts, watching them with a furrowed brow.

I got to my feet with every intention of going over and helping him- approval of the others be damned- when she began to sing. The chantry mother lifting her voice to the heavens with a hymn of hope for hearts still too heavy. One voice joined with hers, then another, another, another. I told myself it was foolish, that singing would solve nothing… but at the same time, there was an undeniable medicine in the sound. I relaxed, sat back down by the fire and just kept an eye on him. I needed to stay away, hadn't I just told myself that? I kept watch as they sang for Lavellan, watched as it softened hearts all over until even the higher circle had calmed into something that could make plans and execute them.

He joined them at the table as they talked over what they would do now that Haven was behind us.

Lavellan… Maker he was a vision. His long white hair trailed over his shoulder, a pair of braids running from along the left side to the right and tangling with the other locks. His features were narrow, lithe, unmistakably elven. I'd never been so enchanted by an elf before. We had them in droves in Tevinter; some were lowly slaves but others had risen to the ranks of Magister. But, beautiful as they were, they'd never really caught my eye before. Too feminine, I'd supposed. But Lavellan broke all the rules. Soft but strong, beautiful but somehow masculine, gentle in his own way, yet charming. I'd never known so many fascinating contradictions in one person before. This was perhaps why the visions of the desire demon kept prancing across my mind. The ghostly fingers of the reflection as they played across my skin. The gentle kiss of his lips along my neck. The more it played in my mind, the more I hungered to know what it would feel like to have the real Lavellan touch me like that.

Solas strode to the table and got his attention before leading him off to talk privately. I frowned and tore my eyes away as they vanished into the snow together, fixing my gaze instead on the fire that danced in front of me. I doubted Solas had any interest in Lavellan; the man was more prudish than a chantry mother. Besides that, Lavellan seemed to dislike Solas, always avoiding the other elven mage if he'd needed to talk to me or visit the apothecary.

"How are you holding up, Sparkler?" Varric asked as he sidled up to me and offered a bottle of brandy my way.

I took it gratefully and helped myself to a generous swig before handing it back. "I'd hold up better if I knew where we were… or where we're going. I'll settle for that much."

"Mm," Varric frowned as he took a seat next to me. "You and me both." He glanced over his shoulder to the place where Lavellan and Solas had vanished into the snow. "Glad he's back though. Honestly didn't think he'd walk out of that one."

"Don't remind me…please." I frowned into the campfire, holding up my hands to warm myself.

Varric gave a small, knowing smile. "You like him."

I laughed a little louder than was necessary. "Don't be ridiculous-"

"Don't bullshit a bullshitter, Sparkler." Varric cut me off, taking another swig of brandy and offering it back.

I heaved a sigh and took the bottle. "Nothing escapes your notice, does it, Varric?"

"I've written enough cheesy romance to see where this is going." He answered with a shrug. "Just because the Herald's been too busy to notice, doesn't mean I haven't."

"I didn't think I was that obvious." I took a gulp of the brandy and savoured the burn as it went down. "Does anyone else know?" I asked.

Varric scoffed and shook his head. "Luckily for you everyone else has been too busy too." He winked at me as he took back his emptying bottle. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

"Thank you."

The sight of Solas and Lavellan re-joining the camp caught the corner of my eye and I looked over again. Lavellan marched over to the table where Cassandra had the maps spread out and, taking a sword piece from among the markers he set it upon the map. He pointed at it emphatically, then turned from the table towards where Varric and I were sitting.

I looked away before he could catch my gaze and cringed inwardly. Varric was right, I was being obvious. If I kept this up, Varric wouldn't need to spill my secret for everyone to know. 'Pull your socks up, Dorian old boy.' I told myself. 'You're better than some blushing apprentice.'

I heard the snow crunch as he approached. "I see you found the brandy, Varric."

The dwarf lifted the bottle, handing Lavellan what was left and watching him down the dregs with an almost wistful gaze in his eye. "Better?" he asked, taking the empty bottle back and tossing it aside.

Lavellan slammed a fist into his own chest a few times, then sat on the bench right beside me, shuffling about until he was comfortable, then tossing his long white hair back over his shoulder. "I'll feel better when we get out of this mess."

Varric chuckled and glanced up at me with mischievous eyes. "Dorian was just saying the same thing."

"Urgh," Lavellan frowned and tucked a rogue lock of hair back behind his pointed ear. "I'm sorry to have gotten you into this, Dorian." He kept his eyes fixed on the campfire. "Gods' only know what you must think of me, fumbling around like this… almost getting everyone killed."

I arched an eyebrow at him, feeling almost insulted by his own self-flagellation. "You just faced of an Archdemon, a supposed darkspawn magister, and his army of mutated Templars… and you think you failed? Failed me of all people? What the hell was in that brandy?"

He smiled up at me, his ruby eyes soft and appreciative. It made my heart soar, though I refused to let it show. I just returned the smile best I could… weary as I was. It seemed to be a common theme in the camp, even after all the unifying singing of chantry hymns. The fade was already beckoning me, and from the slump of Lavellan's shoulders, it called him too.

He fell suddenly, his head coming to rest against my shoulder. For a fleeting moment I thought he'd passed out, that the brandy really was the last straw for his exhaustion. Then, as he curled his arms around mine and nuzzled against me, I thought instead that I'd been the one to pass out and I was again confronted with the desire demon. Something of my shock must had shown in my expression because Varric chuckled as he procured another bottle of alcoholic something from under his stool. "My mistake, Sparkler… guess he did notice something after all."

I glanced down at Lavellan, but the elf was resting his eyes. I had no idea if he knew what Varric was hinting at or not, but either way he seemed disinclined to comment, apparently comfortable resting himself against my arm.

"Er… Lavellan-"

"Bastian," he corrected me.

"Excuse me?"

He kept his head on my shoulder but glanced up at me, another small smile on those sinful lips. "My name, Dorian… it's Bastian. Calling me 'Lavellan' all the time, it'd be like calling you 'Minrathous'."

"I… hadn't considered that," I admitted. "I'm… not overly familiar with the Dalish, I had assumed 'Lavellan' was your name."

He chuckled and shifted closer to me so that he could lean against me more comfortably. "It's my clan's name… my home's name."

"I see. Are you… quite comfortable there?" I asked, "You're sure you wouldn't rather find a bed to sleep on?"

He rested his eyes again as his smile widened a fraction. "You're warm… and you smell nice."

"I… smell nice? After battling Templars and hiking through the mountains? Well… that is an achievement worthy of recognition I suppose," I teased him. I couldn't help it. He was teaseable, something about his usually lively nature I supposed. Or maybe it was that gentle smile.

He chuckled against my arm. "It's not that, there's something 'woodsy' on your clothes… I've always noticed it when I'm around you. It smells of home."

"Ah… it's a pine oil from the edges of the Planasene Forest," I told him. "My father often had it imported for me… before I left."

He smiled again, his grip on my arm tightening. "Mm, that's it. My clan usually camped around there during the summer." He yawned sleepily. "The tree's offered shade from the sun."

I ignored Varric's stifled laughter, but couldn't stop a fond smile of my own creeping onto my face. "Well… I'm glad to be of assistance… Bastian." I glanced up over his head, instinctively checking to make sure no one was watching us too closely. A habit picked up from home. My gaze glanced over most but settled as it was caught by Revered Mother Giselle. She was watching from her perch by the beds of the wounded, the barest hint of a disapproving frown on her face. I turned away from her and tried not to care, to simply enjoy the feel of Lavellan… Bastian… curled up against my shoulder. He trusted me at least, and that mattered so much more.

Feedback is always appreciated, and I thrive on constructive crit... just sayin' ;)