Thanks to all of you for reading! This chapter is definitely NSFW.

After the Iron Bull had gone up to bed, Ren made the rounds some more at the party, but slowly edged her way through the crowd toward the front door as she did so. Eventually she faked a yawn, told Ser Morris the quartermaster that she was still exhausted from the Fade, and slipped out into the night. She took a few moments in the courtyard to enjoy the quiet night air and look up at the stars, which seemed so bright and clear here in Skyhold.

Then she slipped into the shadows and quietly climbed the stairs to the battlements, making her way through the ruined room at the top of the tavern, where she hastily unlaced her boots and took them off, and then down into the upper floors of the tavern. It was silent up here, most of the occupants still downstairs partying, and there was no one to see her pad down the hallway and slip into the Iron Bull's room.

She closed the door behind her and leaned back against it. "Hey."

"Hey." The Iron Bull looked as uncomfortable as she'd ever seen him, standing there with his hands in front of him as though he didn't know what to do with them.

"This is a change of pace." Ren looked around the room. "It's cleaner than the tent was."

He grinned suddenly. "What do you think I've been doing the last ten minutes? Just ... don't look under the bed."

Ren chuckled. "Deal." She watched him for a moment, waiting for him to speak, but it was clear he wasn't going to. "So ... what did you have in mind?"

"I ..." He groaned. "Oh, fuck. This really should be easier. Look, in the Fade ... that was ... I was easy pickings for that fucking demon, and ..."

"No, you weren't. You were caught off guard—" Ren said, but he cut her off, his eye narrowing.

"Don't talk down to me," he snapped. "I was listening to voices in my head, and I turned on the—the person I was supposed to be protecting. What I did to you, shaking you like that, that was over the line."

"Fine, have it that way if you want. But you came out of it, and I would never have let that demon take you. That's my part of this deal—you watch my back, and I watch your brain." She smiled at him.

"Still ..." The Iron Bull took a breath, calming himself down. Getting pissed off at her was not the way this was supposed to go, even if it was easier than what he had intended to do. "Still," he said again, more firmly, "you saved my life. In more ways than one. And ... I owe you."

Ren's smile stretched into a grin, and a suggestive one at that. "I like the sound of that. What did you have in mind?"

This time, he was able to return the smile, sure now that he could go through with it. "Actually, I was more interested in what you have in mind. Out here, you're the boss, remember?"

Her eyebrows flew up. "You mean it?"

He nodded. "Whatever you want."

"Anything?"

Something in the enthusiasm in her tone—while it was gratifying—made him nervous. "I ... think so?" He cleared his throat. "If you need a few minutes to think about it—"

"No. I know what I want." She pushed herself off the door, grabbing the nearest chair and shoving it under the doorknob, to make doubly sure they couldn't be interrupted. "And I intend to take my time about it."

The Iron Bull was already breathing hard just watching her—there was something different about her, more feline, more in control, more ... sexy. Damn, she was beautiful.

Ren stopped in front of him, her body language altering so that she suddenly was that vulnerable girl he glimpsed occasionally, looking up at him with those clear blue eyes so open. "Iron Bull."

"Yeah."

"If I asked, would—would you kiss me?"

Instinctively, he licked his lower lip, staring at hers, so red and full. He wanted to, but he was still afraid that something in the intimate touch of lips and tongues would be too much, just enough to push him over the edge and lose himself—or, better and worse at the same time, that it would tell her all the things he wasn't sure he wanted her to know.

She nodded, taking his silence for the 'no', or rather, the 'I can't', that it was. "I didn't think so." The predatory look came back into her face. "Take off your clothes and lie down on the bed." She leaned against his bedpost, watching as he followed her orders.

He was already half-hard just watching her watch him. Lying down on the bed, naked, he folded his arms under his head and waited for further instructions.

Ren eyed him up and down. She so rarely got to just look—and she'd never gotten to touch. And she wanted to touch. Badly. She stretched out on her side next to him, as he had done so often in her bed. Hers was bigger; he took up most of this one.

He was watching her, waiting, and she smiled, leaning over so her mouth was very close to his ear, letting her warm breath waft over it as she spoke. "I've wanted to do this for a long time. I intend to touch, and taste, and lick, and suck ..." She drew out the last word very slowly, feeling him shiver, and she chuckled. "I'm not going to blindfold you, because I want to see your face. And I'm not going to gag you, because I want to hear every single sound you make."

He did make a sound at that, something between a sigh and a groan.

"And I'm not going to tie your hands, because I want you to hold them still yourself with all that famous willpower you have." With the tip of her tongue, she traced the crinkled edge of his ear, and he shivered again.

And then she set to work in earnest, exploring with hands and lips and tongue.

Lying there, trying his best to remain immobile, the Iron Bull was certain he was going to die. She was going to kill him. That was clearly her goal. She had had her hands and mouth on every part of his body, from his neck to his chest to his inner thighs to his calves and the arches of his feet and back up again to the back of his knees and the sensitive skin just inside his hipbones and his nipples and his throat and now she was back at his ears again. She had drawn quivers and sighs and strangled moans and inarticulate cries that might have been her name from him with surprising ease; she had hummed and chuckled and groaned in appreciation as her tongue and teeth and slender little fingers slowly drove him out of his mind.

At some point, her clothes had come off, stripped off as the heat rose in her, and it had been as much as he could do to hold himself down and not reach for her.

And still, she had deftly avoided his hard, aching cock, except for brief brushes in passing of her hair or her breath, or once, exquisitely painfully, her breasts. If he could have brought himself to do so, he'd have been begging her, but he couldn't seem to get the words out.

Ren nipped the tip of his ear, nuzzling the edge. And then she moved, straddling his stomach, leaning over with her hands on his where they lay next to his head. Instinctively, the Iron Bull curled his fingers around hers, holding on tight. She bent over him. "I forgot to tell you the last part of my plan," she whispered. "Because don't think I haven't noticed in all of this how careful you've been to always make it about what I want. Tonight, I want to hear what you want. So you can embrace that Qunari stoicism of yours and pretend you don't give a good fuck if you'd rather ... but if you want to get a good fuck, you have to tell me you want it."

The Iron Bull groaned, closing his eye so he wouldn't have to see hers. Ren waited. She knew what she was asking, but ... she needed it. It wasn't enough to have him because he wanted to fill her needs, not any longer. This once, she needed to hear that it was what he wanted, too.

"Fuck," he whispered at last.

She smiled. "Add a 'please' and a 'me', and you'll have it." Nothing further was forthcoming, and she leaned down further, her mouth almost brushing his. "You want it so bad you're shaking, Bull, and I'm so wet for you I'm dripping on your cock, and you're going to let a few words stand in the way. Do you trust me or don't you?"

He clenched his teeth, torn between fear and lust and other things he didn't want to put a name to. "Yes."

"Then tell me what you want," she growled. "Open your eye, Iron Bull."

The Iron Bull did as she said. Deep behind the blue of her eyes, he glimpsed that vulnerable girl again, and he could see the uncertainty she was pretending not to feel. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the bruises he had left on her arms. Hadn't she done enough for him? He owed her his life and his sanity, everything that made him who he was, many times over. "Morvoren." She brushed against him, lightly, and the next word was jerked out of him in response. "Please."

Her fingers tightened around his, and he could see the perspiration on her face from holding herself there above him, the glitter in her eyes.

He let go, the words rushing from him. "I need you."

He would remember the brilliance of the smile she gave him then for the rest of his life. The next moment, she was sinking down on him, her wet warmth enveloping his cock. He held her hands tightly, afraid that if he let go she would disappear and this would all have been a dream.

Ren hadn't been exaggerating her state of arousal. Somewhere in the back of her mind it occurred to her to wonder how it was possible to be so turned on when he hadn't touched her. She had been imagining what it would be like to be able to touch that big body and make it respond for a long time, and he had responded, beautifully; his sighs and groans and twitches and the way he couldn't keep still beneath her had far exceeded anything she had hoped for in her fantasies. What did it say that his pleasure had been so arousing to her, though?

Then she was on top of him, filled with him, and it no longer mattered why it felt so good. She held herself there for a moment, letting herself stretch around him, but she was too close to the edge to take it slowly. A few long strokes had her clenching around him, her head thrown back, only his grip on her hands keeping her from collapsing into a boneless heap. But it wasn't enough, for her or for him, and when she had recovered she found him watching her, waiting for her, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding still beneath her.

"Now, Bull," she whispered, and they moved together, shaking the bed with the force of their need. Ren rarely got to watch his face as he came, and that turned her on as much as his movements beneath her, so that her climax followed his.

They lay together, panting, for a long time, letting their bodies cool. At last he groaned. "That was good, boss."

"Thank you." Ren laid her head on his shoulder, smiling. His arm curved around her.

"You had more to say than usual."

"Usually you don't let me talk. Against the rules, remember?"

"Hm. We may need to revise some of the rules."

"Does that mean I get to touch more often?"

The Iron Bull frowned thoughtfully. "No, I don't think so. It really didn't work for me." Ren raised her eyebrows in surprise and he turned his head, his eye twinkling. "What do you think?"

Ren nuzzled the side of his neck. "I think I get to touch more often."

"Oh, yeah." He sighed, supremely content. It occurred to him that he could quite happily lie there all night, just the two of them. And that was dangerous. "You should get back." Of course, his hand was splayed across her lower back, holding her against him, which made his recommendation rather toothless.

And there it was, Ren thought. He was never comfortable with the aftermath, unless he wanted to go again. But in this case, she got to choose, and Ren settled herself more firmly into the crook of his neck. "The party's still going on down there. Someone would see me and wonder where I'd been. Besides, it's cold out there."

"You need further warming up?" the Iron Bull asked.

Ren lifted her head to look at him. "Could you?"

He thought about that. "Usually, I'd say yes, but ... that was pretty intense. Damn, woman." He rubbed his hand over her arm to warm her. His fingers slid over the marks there—the marks he had made. "In the Fade ... I'm sorry about this."

"Stop that."

"What?"

"You were freaking out, under the influence of a demon. You lashed out at the person who was closest to you, the one who was pushing you. That happened to be me. It could have been anyone."

"But it wasn't; it was you."

Ren sighed, sitting up so she could see his face more clearly. "Yes, but I could have sent either Hawke or Stroud to deal with you instead of going myself. And before you say I wouldn't have done that—which is true—the point is, if you and I had been in an argument and you'd done that, we wouldn't be having this conversation. But you weren't fully in control of your mind at the time."

"Yes, because that is so much better."

"Come on, Bull, it's like telling someone not to think of brontos, and immediately that's all they can think of. You were in the Fade, the place that scares you most, and all you could think of was how afraid you were of having your mind taken over by a demon. Naturally, you were vulnerable to it."

He closed his eye so he couldn't see her.

"If it ever happened again, you'd be prepared," Ren continued, chuckling when his eye flew open.

"Again? It better never fucking happen again. One trip through the Fade is more than enough."

"Agreed."

The Iron Bull propped himself up on his elbow, frowning at her. "Why weren't you afraid?"

Ren shrugged. "I think the demon was more afraid of me than anyone else, because it was my lost memories holding us there, and because if I got back out and closed the rift it would never get to come out and take form in our world. So it kept trying to make me afraid of getting my memories back and never bothered to look further." She looked at him for a moment, then added, "Besides, I think it thought if it got you, you would kill me, so it could save its energy."

He was studying her, that thoughtful frown still on his face. "So what are you afraid of?"

"Come on, Ben-Hassrath. You need to ask?"

"A challenge? All right." The Iron Bull sat up, cupping her chin in his hand, looking into her eyes, which met his without blinking. "It's about who you are," he said at last. "You want to be seen for yourself, but you don't want to be, at the same time. You pretend to be an open book, but you never talk about yourself."

"To be fair," Ren said dryly, fighting the urge to turn away from him so he couldn't see anything else, "no one ever asks."

The Iron Bull chuckled. "No, we really don't, do we? Bunch of selfish bastards. So ... I'm asking. Tell me something you haven't told anyone else in Skyhold."

"Everything I tell you is something I haven't told anyone else in Skyhold," Ren said.

He'd known that, of course, but to hear her say it felt ... good. Better than good. "Fine, then, something you've never told me before."

"All right." She thought about that. "Do you want to know why I interrupted Corypheus's ritual?"

"You were bored and looking for something to steal?"

Her eyes widened. "Exactly."

He grinned at her surprise. "I guessed as much. And I know you were at the Conclave because your family pledged you to the Chantry. But I don't know how you got from the Raiders to the Chantry."

Ren sighed. "The last job I did with the Raiders went ... south. Several of us got locked up by the Markham city guards. Dooley was killed; he would have come after us if he'd lived, but his second-in-command wanted to reorganize and wasn't opposed to a few less bodies to worry about. Somehow my father found out I was in jail, and he sprung me ... but on the condition that I let him arrange a marriage for me. Since an arranged marriage was why I ran away and joined the Raiders in the first place, I was, as you might imagine, reluctant to agree. The other option was to join the Chantry, and I figured I had a better chance of getting out of that one at some point."

"But you're a grown woman; why wasn't it your choice what to do?"

"Noblewomen are never really adults. You must know that. We're commodities, to be traded to the highest bidder."

"So much for freedom," he said, remembering the conversation they'd had about that back in the tavern in Haven.

"Some of us are less free than others," she agreed. "But it led me here, so I can't complain, I suppose." Ren got up, collecting her clothes. "I think the party's died down."

The Iron Bull caught himself on the verge of asking her to stay. "Probably a good idea," he agreed. For the first time, he wondered if it was really worth all this subterfuge. So what if the Inquisition knew who she slept with? But that was crazy—he was still Qunari, after all. He knew without having to ask how the nobility Josephine was always trying to court would react if the Inquisitor was known to be in some kind of relationship with a Qunari. Sleeping with one on the sly, that was practically a badge of honor—he should know, having had a number of Orlesian nobles throw themselves at him in his years with the Chargers. But a sustained relationship, even one mostly based on sex, was no good for her reputation.

He sighed, watching her pull her clothes back on over that delectable ass of hers. "See you tomorrow?"

Ren grinned at him over her shoulder. "Of course. My room, though. My bed is a lot more comfortable."