"I have to go to Tervinter," Dorian said with disgust as he slapped the book he had been reading, closed.
Blinking and looking up from his own book, Lachlan tilted his head slightly. "That kinda came out of nowhere, care to elaborate?"
"Not particularly, no," Dorian huffed, as he let himself flop, bonelessly, down onto the chaise lounge he had been reading on. It was quite comfortable. He was quite glad he had convinced Lachlan to buy it, and have it put in his room here in Skyhold.
It was also quite useful for dramatic displays. And...other….things.
"Well," Lachlan nodded as he set aside his book and stood from the bed. "If you don't tell me willingly. I will be forced to get it out of you by force."
"Oh?" Dorian smirked as Lachlan leaned over him. "And how would you do something like that?" Maker, Dorian thought. How can a human man look so….delicious…..
Dorian's eyes roamed over Lachlan's bare, firm, chest. He took in the lean, wiry muscles that lined his lover's arms. The tight, stomach that hinted at the strong, limber muscle. That little trail of light red hair that led down to…
"Hey!" Lachlan laughed as he danced outside of Dorian's grasping hands. "No hands, buster! Not until you tell me what the problem is."
"Maker…." Dorian sighed as he let his arms drop. "How did you learn to move so well. You're like an oiled otter."
For a moment Lachlan looked taken aback. "Okay, that's a new one," he smirked as he shook his head. "To answer the question though, I would guess it might have something to do with my mother being half elven? At least, that's what I always thought."
"Eh….don't think so," Dorian thoughtfully stared at the ceiling. "As I understand it, and not that I have studied it, mind you, human blood breeds mostly true. But then, I have not seen any other humans with purple eyes."
"Same as my mother's," Lachlan shrugged as he lifted Dorian's legs enough to slip onto the lounge, then dropping them back on his lap. "My sister takes more after our father. You know, dark hair, dark eyes. Typical Marcher."
"Nothing about you is typical," Dorian smiled as Lachlan's hands slid over his legs. Then he let out a light groan as his love took one of his feet in his strong, dexterous fingers, massaging them. "And that's cheating."
"Gotta beat you someway," Lachlan chuckled. "Now. Spill it."
"Oh, you can believe I'm going to be spilling it…." Dorian sighed again before wincing as Lachlan dug a finger into a nerve. "Okay, okay! I give!"
"Good boy," Lachlan nodded to himself in satisfaction.
"It's my mother's birthday in a month," Dorian almost spat. "I will be expected to make an appearance. Make a speech. Kiss some cheeks. Get too drunk on wine, vomit in a potted plant and avoid the aunt that keeps wanting to set me up with 'a lovely girl she just met at a salon'."
"Dorain, your mother's birthday is important," Lachlan turned to look more at him fully. "I know you have had a...rough...family life. But be better than them."
"Andraste's ass, you are so fucking adorable," Dorian snorted as he sat up, and turned himself so that he could take Lachlan in his arms and rested his chin on the pale shoulder. "I wish I could take you with me."
"You can't?" Lachlan tilted his head slightly, resting his cheek on Dorian's forehead. "Well, no. I know why."
"They would eat you alive," Dorian grumbled. "And I can't have that. It's bad manners to explode members of the Magisterium."
"Is it now?" Lachlan laughed as his hands slid, slowly up Dorian's bare thigh.
A slight frown crossed Dorian's face. "I...Maker...At least in public...What are you doing to me?"
"Well…" Lachlan smirked as his hands found the member he was looking for. Feeling it grow in his hands. "I have to make sure you remember what, exactly, you will be missing."
Dorian shoved forward, turning Lachlan's face to his, their lips coming together. Tongues intertwined as Dorian's hands gripped Lachlan's long red hair, pulling it frimley, eliciting a quiet squeal from his lover.
"Dorian…" Lachlan breathed as he rolled back, pulling the dark haired tervinter on top of him, trapping Dorian's thighs with his own.
"Quiet," Dorian growled as his mouth hungrily slid down Lachlan's jaw, to his neck. His teeth digging into the flesh as he sucked, marking this man as his. "I am going to make sure you feel me even until I return."
"Oh, fuck...," Lachlan groaned as Dorian moved lower, his teeth catching on Lachlan's nipple. Then to the other one. A tongue slide between the tensed muscles of Lachlan's abdomen. "Fuck, Dorian, I was going to…."
"I said, shut...up," Dorian snarled now as he aggressively pushed Lachlan's legs apart. "Now. Be mine!"
There were no more words. Only sounds. Sounds of a mouth sliding down, then back up. Sounds of pale, freckled hands, twisting in dark hair.
Groans of pleasure. Groans of growing tension.
Cries then. Cries of ecstasy. White-hot cries. Cries that were of release.
Whimpers. Exhausted whimpers. Dropping, panting, sighing.
Swallows. Chuckles of satisfaction. Enjoyment of fruits of the labor.
"More," came the whisper.
"Fill me," was begged.
Then lips together once more. The taste mingling. Salt of sweat. Sweet of love.
Skin came together, rolled together. Hands intertwined. Fingers locked. Two people. Two people, so desperately in love, becoming one.
Each one desperate to give more than he received. Eager to take all that was given. Above as below. Given and taken. Each in turn filled the other until exhaustion took them both.
The smell of sweat and sex. The sweet incense, and the hearty smoke from the fire. Leather from the books. The fruity wine, spilled on the floor joy, and love and pleasure.
Then the peacefulness of sleep. Only to meet again in dreams, with arms around each other. Bliss and joy. Happiness and fear.
Everything.