This is a kink meme fill. In theory this could be set in the same universe as my other Bull/Inquisitor story, Do Your Worst, though it's definitely not required to read that first.
Glancing at Cullen across the war table, Mahanon's eyes were drawn to the way Cullen's fingers shook as he set out a new mission marker, and he noted the sweat upon Cullen's brow. Cassandra and Josephine shared a look behind Cullen's back before turning imploring eyes to Mahanon. Fix this, they said. Mahanon excused himself shortly after. Missions were set, and the wait began.
Mahanon retreated to his room for dinner, not in the mood for company. His thoughts were drawn to Cullen, to the pain he was going through, the path that Mahanon had encouraged Cullen to remain on. He knew how addictive lyrium was, had seen the effects first hand, especially among some of the older templars in the Inquisition. Their powers came at a high price.
Never having heard of anyone quitting lyrium, Mahanon had made some discreet inquiries. What he'd learned was… not comforting. No one knew of anyone who had successfully quit lyrium. All that had tried had either gone mad or killed themselves if they didn't choose to state taking it again. Then Alistair had proven that templars didn't need lyrium.
If Mahanon hadn't already disliked the Chantry before, he certainly did after learning about the deceit that it leashed its army with. Needless addiction to keep them close, to keep them controlled, unquestioning, unable to leave as the Chantry had exclusive rights to lyrium distribution on the surface. There were always other routes, like the Carta, but they came with a price, far more than a templar could afford.
Pushing his barely touched meal away, Mahanon rose and walked to the balcony, hoping the cold wind would calm his thoughts, but it did little more than make him shiver. Leaning against the railing, he sighed. He hated seeing his friend like this. Three days ago Cullen had called off their twice weekly chess game, claiming that he had paperwork to do. As efficient as the older man was, Mahanon hadn't believed it for a minute.
If he said the word, Mahanon knew Cullen would start taking it again. However, he was also certain that it would cost them their friendship. To push Cullen back into that life would be unforgivable. After what the man had been through, Mahanon couldn't do that to him. Yet, at the same time he worried—not over the state of the Inquisition or their military strength (well, truly he did, but not in relation to Cullen's abilities)—he hating seeing the pain wear at his friend. The strength that Cullen possessed to endure was admirable, yet, Mahanon wished that Cullen did not have to bear it.
A hard body pressed up against his back, and Mahanon leaned back against the warmth as strong arms encircled him.
"What troubles you this night, katan?"
Mahanon twisted in Bull's arms, pressing his face against the hard planes of Bull's chest.
"Cullen…" Mahanon began, but trailed off. It was not his secret to tell.
"Ah, yes," Bull drawled. "His lyrium withdrawal."
Mahanon stiffened in surprise, head jerking back to meet Bull's smug gaze.
"I may no longer be Hissrad, yet decades of habits are not so easily left behind. Also alcohol loosens tongues. I have heard more than one conversation between templars speculating. Most templars take their lyrium like clockwork. Easier to fight the worst of the addiction that way, yet none have seen Cullen ever take any, not since Kirkwall. Though it's not unheard of for some to prefer to do it alone. There have been rumors of heavy addiction, but his men respect him enough to squash such gossip. Some of the old templars might recognize the signs in Cullen, but they've kept their silence."
"If they didn't mention it, how did you know?" Mahanon asked.
Bull led him inside as he suddenly shivered, closing the door behind them. Sitting on the couch, he pulled Mahanon into his lap. As Mahanon settled against him, Bull said, "In the circles I've traveled, I've seen lots of people at their lowest. Many brought there by addiction. Some templars who are cast out of the order are lucky enough to find alternative sources of lyrium. Those who can't… it's not pretty. Cullen hides it well, but I recognize it. For him to have gone so many months without speaks of a man with an indomitable strength of will. We're lucky he's on our side."
Nodding his agreement, Mahanon said, "Yes, we certainly are." He hesitated for a moment before asking, "When you say 'not pretty', I assume you mean madness and death, yes? Have you heard of no other outcome?" He wanted the answer to be yes.
Bull shook his head. "No, the only 'cure' I've seen is more lyrium." Seeing the pained looked on Mahanon's face, he hurried to continue. "That is not to say that it's not possible."
"How did the Qun deal with addiction?"
"If they survived the withdrawal phase, then they were sent to the reeducators. There was none of this… messiness."
"Convenient, but not an opinion."
Bull suddenly looked thoughtful. "The reeducators didn't always resort to manipulating the mind. For those not so far gone from the Qun, there were other ways… Some of those ways were not so very different from what we have."
Mahanon raised a brow because he certainly had a hard time imagining that.
Bull laughed at his expression. "Such things aren't inherently sexual, or at least not exclusively sexual. Taking a man in hand, giving him stability, someone he can trust and rely on. Sometime it's all a person needs."
Hesitantly Mahanon asked, "Was that all you needed?"
Bull grimaced, his face twisting. "No. From what I remember… no."
"Sorry. I didn't intend to dig up unpleasant memories." Mahanon steered the conversation back to the previous topic, though no less heavy. "About Cullen. Do you think it would be possible for him to…" Mahanon trailed off suddenly realizing what exactly he was asking.
Bull looked just as shocked as Mahanon felt. "Boss, I'm no reeducator. For me, it's all sexual. I can't separate it. But can you imagine the look on his face, if I suggested it?"
A grin stretched across Mahanon's face as he suddenly recalled the time that Cullen and the others walked in on him and Bull. If he hadn't been so annoyed by the interruption, he might have laughed at Cullen's reaction.
"He's not bad looking for a human though, is he, boss?" Bull asked teasingly.
Mahanon's cheeks flushed slightly because no, Cullen certainly wasn't.
Bull laughed at the sight before quickly sobering, the amusement leaving him just as quickly as it came. "Are you sure about this though? What you ask? There will be consequences. There will be changes even if he says no."
Slowly nodding, Mahanon replied, "If the alternative is leaving Cullen to suffer alone, then I see no harm in asking."
Hands tracing patterns on Mahanon's back, Bull nuzzled against his neck. "Where do you see yourself in this arrangement? Would you prefer if I took Cullen in hand alone, or would you prefer to join us? Or perhaps you wish to watch?" Bull all put purred.
Blood heating at the images that Bull's words invoked, Mahanon pressed closer. "I've grown to realize that sexual relationships with more than two people aren't all the common in the world outside my clan, that casual sex is frowned upon by many. Among the Dalish such relationships are referred to as bel'lath, literally "lover of many". I am the child of such a union, having one mother and two fathers. My parents weren't the only bel'lath in our clan. I must admit that I find human hang-ups regarding sex to be quite puzzling at times. So to answer your question, yes, I would like to watch. Yes, I would like to join. And what of you? Are you okay with this, Bull?"
A wolfish grin stretched across Bull's face. "Katan, I think it should be perfectly clear by now that I like sex. While I especially enjoy it with you, it would certainly be no hardship with Cullen."
"It isn't just sex, and you know it."
"And here I was trying to lighten the mood," Bull snarked. "The answer is yes. For you, yes."
"No," Mahanon denied with a shake of his head. "Please don't feel like you have to do this out of some misplaced sense of obligation to me."
"I do this because I love you, and I try to offer you what little happiness I can in a world that's gone to shit. I say yes because Cullen is a friend and an excellent General that I highly respect, and he deserves the same."
"Bull," Mahanon murmured, the world full of affection as he leaned close to brush their lips together. Bull's teeth tugged at his lower lip, and Mahanon moaned against his mouth, opening to him. The sound of his door's hinges didn't register under he heard Cullen's voice, jerking back as he spoke.
"Oh, Sweet Maker," Cullen exclaimed.
Rising to his feet, Mahanon found that Cullen's back was already turned. "Cullen, please come in. We're decent." Glancing over at Bull's half naked form sprawled across the couch, Mahanon added, "As decent as we ever are."
Bull just grinned, clearly unperturbed.
Cullen turned hesitantly. "Sorry to disturb you both. I thought to come by early for our chess game since I missed the last. If you prefer, we can schedule it for another time."
Amusement washed over Mahanon as he watched Cullen inch towards the door.
"Actually your timing couldn't have been better," Bull said rising from the couch. "We were just talking about you."
"About me?" Cullen parroted, turning angry eyes to Mahanon.
"And us. You and us," Bull continued.
"Me and you?" Cullen repeated slowly, the anger giving way to confusion as he glanced between them both.