"And that is how you properly drink in a civilized fashion at an Orlesian court event," Josephine said, then looked up from her clipboard. "Any questions? No? Excellent. Now, how to use a napkin without embarrassing the Inquisition."
What a dreadfully dull day, Dorian thought with an internal sigh. As he felt his chin begin to slide off the palm upon which it was propped, and quickly straightened, blinking for a few moments to force himself to wake up. When he heard a quiet chuckle next to him, his foot lashed out and landed solidly on an ankle, making Cullen yelp.
"Did you have a question, Commander?" Josephine asked, partially lowering the napkin with which she was providing a detailed demonstration.
Cullen cleared his throat while Dorian covered his grin and looked at him expectantly. "Ah, no, Ambassador. My... belt pinched me when I shifted, that's all."
"Of course." With a nod, Josephine raised the napkin once more and resumed the lesson.
Just when Dorian felt his eyelids begin to droop again, he felt a sharp kick against his leg, and spluttered, "Ow!"
"Yes, Dorian? You had something to say?" Josephine asked in an irritated voice.
"No, no, not at all, Ambassador," Dorian said with a charming smile, resisting the urge to kick Cullen back. "A bug bit me, that's all."
"Oh, yes, the summer brought a whole horde of the nasty gnats." Josephine's annoyance faded, and she looked at Dorian sympathetically. "Perhaps you should cover your arm? I assume that's where the horrid thing got you."
No, my leg, actually. "I'll be fine. Pray continue," Dorian assured her with aplomb. As Josephine continued her lecture, he turned and directed a glare at Cullen, who blinked innocently and leaned in close.
"Do be careful about those bugs. I'd hate to see anyone else mark that perfect skin of yours," he murmured, then leaned back and gave all his apparent attention to Josephine.
Well, that was just cruel. With a sigh, Dorian tried to be good and concentrate, but when Josephine began to expound on the virtues of eating with delicacy, he mentally groaned. Kaffas, I'm not sure how much more of this I can take.
What he needed was a distraction. Settling back in his chair, he crossed one leg over the other and leaned one arm on the back of his chair so that his hand dangled behind it, and wiggled his fingers.
The sensation was so slight that at first Cullen almost didn't feel it, or didn't realize what it was. As it continued, though, and Dorian's targeting of his spell grew surer and bolder, Cullen began to shift in his seat. It wasn't much, but since the good Commander was trying to do the right thing and concentrate on Josephine, the shifting was an unconscious response to the gentle tickling being inflicted upon him. When Dorian increased the pressure of his ephemeral fingers, though, Cullen suddenly gasped, barely stifling an epithet which would have surely invoked the Maker.
Dorian pressed his lips together to stop from laughing, his own gaze only on Josephine by this point. Luckily their lovely host didn't pause in her all-important lesson in how to tie the sash of the formal attire which had been prepared for the Inquisition for Halamshiral, and continued to tease and tickle Cullen's now-hardening length with his magic.
Cullen reached out and put a hand on Dorian's thigh, squeezing with urgency as he leaned forward and hissed, "Stop."
Dorian simply glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, a smirk on the side of his mouth which Cullen could see, and subtly shook his head. Then stroked, adding just a hint of a spark to his little spell he'd concocted.
He felt Cullen's hand tighten on his thigh as the man suppressed a moan by exuding a long, shuddering sigh, but it was still quiet enough not to attract notice as Josephine turned her explanation to the various methods of address to use for the nobility of Orlais - a subject which promised to be of some length.
Dorian wasn't really paying attention, of course, not when Cullen's hand moved from the mage's thigh to something a bit more sensitive and began his own torture. Since they were all crowded around the War Table in chairs, the gesture had a good chance of going unnoticed - if Cullen kept it to a lowkey level. When Dorian looked back to take in Cullen's expression, however, it was not the look of a man who would allow Dorian to outplay him in this arena.
A challenge, hmm, Amatus? We shall have to see.
The nearly silent contest continued for a while, as Josephine worked her interminable way from Grand Duke to Duke to Marquis and below. Silent beads of sweat formed on both men's foreheads, but that could possibly be excused since others around the table were also showing some effect of the heat of the summer. It was, Dorian had to admit privately, rather more fun than it should have been to try to get a reaction from Cullen, but the warrior's sense of competitive spirit wouldn't let him concede the game to the mage.
In hindsight, Dorian conceded that unlacing Cullen's trousers and guiding Cullen's length out perhaps had been a touch beyond the pale - a magical touch, that is. Certainly it made Cullen's spine stiffen as well as something else, and it was only through sheer dint of will that he kept his audible reaction down to a high-pitched whine in the back of his throat.
When Josephine paused, looking to see who had made the sound, Iron Bull suddenly piped up. "You lost me, Ambassador, sorry. Got a bit frustrated. What's the difference between a Duke and a Grand Duke again? Only one of them actually counts as anything, right?"
Josephine's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but finally she simply sighed and turned back to the board she'd been writing on. "Very well, I'll go over it one more time."
Once her back was turned, Bull looked at Dorian and gave him his version of a wink - which really just looked like a lazy blink of his one eye - and Dorian's eyebrows shot up. Still, he didn't question it, and this time, took the exposed Cullen in his magical hand and squeezed .
Cullen jumped in his seat, causing his armor to rattle, and Josephine turned around again. "Is everything all right, Commander?"
As he spoke, Cullen's hand tightened around Dorian's cock, and suddenly it was Dorian trying to keep his squirming out of sight and under the table. "Just getting antsy, Ambassador," he said with a miraculously steady voice. "Might I suggest a break? I think we passed lunch a while ago."
Josephine blinked, then looked at the window and pressed a hand to her mouth. "Why, so we did! I do apologize." Turning around, she made a little mark next to Baronet and then set the chalk down. "Please do return in an hour. There is much I still need to ensure you are all made aware of."
Sera was the first one out of the room, of course, with a resounding cry of "Booooring!" as she dragged Lavellan after her. "Let's go raid the kitchen!" As the others trickled out with similar complaints and groans, Cullen pushed himself as far under the table as he possibly could, since at this stage tucking it awaysimply could not be done with subtlety.
Iron Bull was the last one to leave, and he turned and grinned at the pair still left at the table. "Don't worry. I got your back." And then he closed the door behind him.
Cullen let out his breath explosively. "If you don't use your damned magic to bar that door, I won't be held responsible for what they find when they come back," he said through gritted teeth.
Dorian raised an eyebrow, though he did hastily slide the bar into place. "Commander, the things you say!" he said in an aghast voice.
Surging out of his chair, Cullen pulled Dorian from his own and pressed him up against the wall. As his lips sought Dorian's for a passionate kiss, his hands moved to work at Dorian's own belt. Their lips broke apart as Cullen wrenched down the mage's pants, his breath hot on Dorian's cheek as he growled, "I'd say we both worked up an appetite, and I fully intend to sate it."
As Cullen sank to his knees in front of him, Dorian's grasping hands found only blond hair to sink into as his head snapped back. A loud moan slipped from his lips unnoticed, and his hips jerked when Cullen's hands joined lips, teeth and tongue. Only one thought managed to cross his mind before coherent thought became a thing of the past.
What a delightfully delicious day.