Normal people understood the purpose of a closed door. When one encountered a closed door, especially if said door led into someone's personal chambers, it was typically a sign that the occupants were either not there or preferred not to be disturbed. At the very least, normal people had the common courtesy to knock first before entering.

But then, the Inquisitor was not a normal person.

Whether it was all her years trained as an assassin, the unconscious instinct to make as little noise as possible, or just plain absentmindedness nobody really knew. However, within the first week or so of the Inquisition's relocation to Skyhold, it quickly became clear that if privacy was something you required, locking your door was imperative.

Failure to do so resulted in… incidents.

Incidents like a female Qunari, the Herald of Andraste, and really, the closest thing a rebellious Altus could call a tried and true friend, walking in on you while your male lover, who was also a Qunari (and really what did it say about his life when such things were true), had you naked, needy, and tied to the bedposts.

All in all, a fairly typical night for Dorian Pavus.

That is, if he ever managed to reach the point where sex with the Iron Bull ever felt typical. Much like anything else about the man.

Not that he was dwelling on that now. How could he when the Bull had him stretched out across the mattress, his enormous hand wrapped deliciously around Dorian's cock, stroking him in time to slow, thorough thrusts. He was whispering filthy suggestions and sweet praises into the mage's ear and Dorian could only lay there, bound by red silk as his body was assaulted by the best form of torment imaginable.

"That's it big guy, let it out," Bull growled softly against his ear as he gave another sharp thrust. Another whimper forced its way past Dorian's lips. "Fucking gorgeous, all tied like a present. Just for me…"

The longer this went on, the more Dorian realized that he was losing more and more control of his mouth. The longer Bull prolonged the sweet torture, any helpless moans he might've once tried to silence, now met no resistant unlike the limbs that pulled tightly against the red silk.

"Ah! Bull, please... Please!"

Of course, that was when the door flew open. Of course...

"Venhedis!" Dorian jerked away from his lover's embrace, though his current position didn't give him much room to go.

Tully Adaar strode in, large as life, clutching a number of important documents in her hand that Josephine had surely thrust on her unwillingly. "Bull, I need to talk to you about the Chargers mission tomorr-oh."

"Hey, Boss."

Tully blinked and then squinted her eyes at the couple entangled on the bed, looking at them with about the same amount of scrutiny she would give an unusually colored stone. It seemed to be about as much of a dramatic reaction as she felt the situation was called for.

"Should I come back later?" she asked after a moment.

"Oh no, please do come in!" Dorian bemoaned, and he would have thrown up his arms if they weren't already above his head and bound. "In fact, why not invite the whole blasted keep? Bull, be a dear and put another log on the fire! I'll just throw on my best dress robes and fetch the seedless grapes, shall I?

Bull, being the absolute shit that he was, paid absolutely no verbal mind to Dorian's outburst, though he did have the kindness to stop moving and start rubbing soft circles into the mage's hips instead. "Probably be best, Boss. I just bought these curtains."

Dorian gave him a sharp kick to the arse, thanks to its conveniently placed position wrapped around the larger man's waist. "Vishante kaffas you great oaf, that was one time!"

Tully, with her natural straight face, simply nodded before turning around and exiting the way she came. "I see. We'll speak in the morning then. Goodnight Bull, Dorian."

The door shut behind her and the Bull's attention was turned back onto his bedmate, who'd thankfully worked past livid and mortified and had settled on just plain embarrassed. Dorian's cheeks were still red and his pout was still prominent, but at least he wasn't looking ready to burn through his restraints anymore

"You ok?" Bull asked.

"If one can classify, 'positively mortified,' as 'ok' then yes, most certainly. I expect the entire tavern will being telling the tale of the fearsome and diabolical Magister for years to come; waking the dead with his screeching octaves and brought low by the poor timing of his romps," Dorian bit out, before feeling a wash of guilt pass over him at the positively sheepish and far-too understanding expression on the Bull's face. A face that fearsome in battle should not be able to look so… so… ugh!

"Truly, I'm fine," he said sincerely, finally meeting the man's eyes for the first time since they were interrupted. "It by far not the worst way I've been interrupted mid-coitus. Much more preferable to being yanked out of bed by guards with no time to even fix my hair."

"Personally, I think the freshly-fucked look works for you," Bull teased, gently knocking their foreheads together. "Very natural."

"Beast…" Dorian nipped at the Bull's chin. "No respect for the finer things." Despite the now relative ease of the air around them, any lingering desire Dorian might not have let drain from him at the sudden and unwelcome arrival of a third party, still showed now signs of returning as his headspace cleared enough to remember the relative earliness of the evening and number of patrons probably still drinking below.

Bull seemed to understand and pulled out without a word, and went to work untying the impressive knots keeping him in place. Embarrassed as he was, Dorian wasn't so distressed as to not let his lover take care of him. He let himself relax into the mattress as his hands were free, the stiffness in his joints was rubbed away, and his sweaty hair was smoothed back from his face and forehead. Finally with a sigh, he sat up, but didn't bother pulling up the sheets for any false presence of modesty.

"Still, sorry about that," Bull said, one hand, large and warm, supporting Dorian at his back. "I should've locked it."

Dorian shrugged and allowed himself to relax against the headboard. "Seems that's something all of Skyhold is struggling to remember. Ah well, there's always next time."

He focused very hard on rubbing more feeling back into his wrists and not all in order to avoid looking up at Bull, who he was certain was smirking knowingly at the words, 'next time.' Mercifully though, the Bull let the comment go and merely stretched out to lie beside him on the bed, hands pulled back to rest on his massive chest. The larger man's erection had deflated at this point as well, and Dorian felt a twinge of regret before he felt himself being pulled down onto the mattress and close enough that the mage could hear the Bull's steady heartbeat beneath his ear.

"Hey, if it makes you feel better, this was just the once for you. It's not like it's the first time she's caught me with my pants down."

Dorian's eyebrow arched and a rueful grin slowly began to spread across his face. "What's this?" he teased, trying and failing to seem like he wasn't positively melting into the Bull's warmth. The great lug had no business being quite so comfortable and he flicked a gray nipple for good measure. "How much of the Inquisition's dirty laundry has our illustrious leader had the misfortune of seeing?"

Bull smirked and lowered his hand to give Dorian's ass a quick squeeze. "Well, there was that time in the stables, twice on night watch, once on the battlements, three times in here, plus all those times in my tent back in Haven when she came by with questions about the Qun. Never seen a Chantry sister turn so red."

Dorian's brow lifted "Oh really?" He wasn't blind to his lover's previous escapades, and he was hardly innocent as Elfroot himself, but even so. To be interrupted that many times….

"Yeah," the Qunari nodded. "It's why I thought she wanted to ride the Bull at first, all the times she walked in. I mean, who makes that many mistakes if they're not trying to get a peak at the show, but–"

A short, but piercing screech cut him off, followed by the sound of several items hitting the side of a wooden wall after evidently being chucked across the room. Based on the continued thumps, whoever was throwing things was evidently missing their target. At the same time, they heard Sera begin yelling bloody murder.

"Fuck Quizzy! Din'nit no one ever teach ya to knock? Now Widdle's all pink!"

The tavern outside their door erupted into raucous laughter, mixed with a healthy addition of unintelligible swearing from one seriously miffed elf, stammering from a flustered dwarven arcanist, and confused apologies from one "divinely touched" Qunari. Bull glanced down at Dorian, who looked up at him in the same instant, before both men lost themselves in a fit of laughter mixed with several bellowing guffaws and a number of inelegant snorts and giggles. Their naked bodies rocked with their mirth as the din was mirrored below them, even louder.

Amidst all the roars and chuckles, tearing eyes and heaving chests, Bull still found the time to smooth back Dorian's hair again and gasp out, "Turns out, she just has really, really shitty timing."