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Ren dropped the rucksack of her personal items on the bed, collapsing next to it with a sigh. The rest of the baggage was being unloaded downstairs by the pages and stableboys. Usually she liked to wait and help and try to go through things as they were unloaded, but it was so late tonight that she just didn't have it in her. And a rare downpour was soaking Skyhold; the first thing she had done on reaching her quarters was to throw the doors open so the sound and smell of the rain would blow through. She'd given orders that the stableboys were to get some hot stew and tea after they were done unloading the horses—it seemed the least she could do for them.

She should probably get up and unpack her rucksack, but she lacked the motivation. All she wanted to do was get into her warm, dry robe and curl up in front of the fire with a book.

Well, that was her second choice, anyway. She'd have preferred to be with the Iron Bull, but there was no time tonight to straighten out that mess.

Ren was wrapping the blue robe around herself when she heard the door to the main hall of the keep close far below her. Her heart pounded as she stood frozen, waiting until she could hear the footsteps. They were heavy, firm ... familiar.

It had to mean something that he was coming up now, less than an hour after she'd returned to Skyhold, didn't it? She waited in the middle of the room, her eyes fixed on the top of the stairs.

The Iron Bull was having trouble breathing as he climbed the last few steps. He wanted to see her, touch her so badly he could practically taste her on his tongue; but it was by no means certain that she wanted him up here at all, much less so soon after she'd returned home.

As his head cleared the top of the half wall, he found her watching him, her eyes wide and blue, her hand clutching the collar of the robe he had given her. It had to be a good sign that she was wearing it, didn't it?

Ren only just barely managed to restrain herself from throwing herself into his arms as soon as he had reached the top of the stairs. They stood there for long heartbeats, just looking at each other, no sound in the room but the wind and the rain.

At last, Ren managed to croak, "You're here."

"Yeah."

"Are you ... staying?"

"Do you want me to stay?" he asked, the words out before he could think whether they were the right ones or not.

"Maker, yes!" Her words came as spontaneously as his had. She thought she could see a tension ease in his shoulders. If only it were that easy ... but she still hadn't had an answer to what she'd asked him. She said, quickly, "But—I need to know if you—" Words failed her, and she finished, with great feeling, "I need to know, Bull."

"Why?" It wasn't a fair question; she deserved the answer. But he wasn't sure if he could give it to her.

Well, that put things firmly on her side of the board, didn't it? Ren had thought long and hard all through their detour to the Emerald Graves and their journey home to Skyhold what she would say in this situation, how much she would tell him about her feelings, but now, standing here in front of him as she was, all her carefully practiced words went straight out of her head, leaving her flailing for the right ones. "Because I ... because ... because this has come to mean something to me. You have come to mean something to me. And I don't want to stop, but I don't think I can continue if you—if this doesn't mean something to you, too."

Unable to tear his eye from her face, he took a step toward her, but it was clear that she needed words, not actions. There was still a barrier to speech somewhere inside him, but she had been brave in going first, in admitting to what they had together being more than sex, and could he be less so? Not and be fair to her.

The Iron Bull cleared his throat. "Look," he said gruffly, "I told you before: This is where I want to be."

"I know you did," she said in a small voice. "I thought you meant ... the Inquisition. Skyhold."

"I did. But I also meant here. With you. And yeah, you know I get off on knowing you're walking around Skyhold with my handprint on your ass—but that's not because you're the Inquisitor. It's because you're you."

"Really?"

"Really."

She looked at him for a long moment, her blue eyes wide and vulnerable—a woman's vulnerability this time, not a young girl's—and then she tugged at the belt of her robe, letting it fall, baring her muscular body to him.

He closed the distance between them swiftly, his hands on either side of her neck, his thumbs under her chin lifting her face toward him. "Morvoren." It was a question, a plea, really, and she nodded, unable to speak.

Their mouths met, softly at first, and then with a feverish need. The Iron Bull pulled her against him, his hands on her gorgeous ass. Bit by bit, he inched her backward until she was pressed up against the wall next to the door. Hastily, kissing her all the while, he stripped off his clothes. His hands found her body again, but before he could lift her up for a better angle she pushed at his chest, moving them out onto the balcony and into the rain. Breaking the kiss, Ren tilted her head back and let the rain fall on her face.

The Iron Bull watched her, content with that for the moment. There was something free about her, a happiness in her, that he'd never seen before, as she stood here naked on her balcony in the rain. Then her mouth was on his chest, tracing the paths of the water rolling down from his shoulders, and the heat of it was like lightning racing along his skin, all bright fire. Ren dragged his head down to her, whispering roughly in his ear, "On the railing. Like you promised."

Had he promised that? Right now, he didn't care if he had—he'd have done a lot more than that for her if she'd asked. The Iron Bull lifted her, carrying her to the railing.

Ren leaned back against the strength of his arms, the rain dripping off his horns and shoulders onto her. She'd had the presence of mind to make sure it was the mountain-facing balcony, not the Skyhold-facing balcony, but right now she wouldn't have cared if all of the Inquisition, and her family, too, were standing down there watching her. She wrapped her legs as far around his waist as they would go, writhing against the fingers that were stroking her, stretching her, readying her.

She didn't need much, and soon he was seated as deeply inside her as he could get, holding her there on the rail with his great strength, his hips driving forward and surging back in firm strokes like waves in a heavy sea. Ren could almost smell the ocean in the damp salt and smoke of his skin against her. She was dizzy with sensation, clinging to him with all she had, as he swept her farther and farther out until the great wave crashed over her head. The Iron Bull thrust a few more times and, throwing his head back so the rain fell full on his face, shouted with his own peak as she clung to him.

He stepped back from the railing, lifting her in his arms, bending his head to kiss her as he carried her back inside. Then he set her down next to the bed. Taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he said, "Stay here."

As he fetched a towel from her bathroom, he thought they would have to revisit the rules at some point. Because this was no longer solely about what she needed—it was wants and needs and desires all tangled up in each other. She may not have rested her heart in him the way he had his in her, but it was a start. Maybe he could make her understand what kadan truly meant, become that for her given time.

Ren waited where he left her, wondering for her own part what became of the rules now. Was this still all about her needs? She didn't know enough about the future or what she wanted from it to ask any more from him than he had already yielded. He was here now, and that was everything she needed.

He toweled her off, then his hands followed the path of the towel, stroking her skin, touching her everywhere to reassure himself that she had returned in one piece, and by the time he was done with that they were both more than ready again. They tumbled to the bed together, wrestling for dominance. The Iron Bull let Ren ride to her pleasure on top of him, then he rolled her over and took his time with her, bringing her up again so they came together.

Ren tucked her face into his shoulder, feeling her heartbeat begin to slow as they lay there together. Beneath her, the Iron Bull shifted, and she threw her arm and leg over him hastily. "Don't go! Not yet," she added.

The Iron Bull had been reaching for the blankets, knowing that she tended to get cold with the doors open, especially since her hair was still damp from the rain. He lay back now, though, his arm tightening around her. He was glad she had added "not yet", because while he wanted to stay all night with her—all night, all week, all month ... as long as he could be alone with her—he wasn't ready to share this with other people yet. It was too raw with emotion, this tentative step they had taken away from what they had been into something ... else that neither of them seemed quite ready to define.

Instead of what he was thinking, though, he said, "You want to go again?"

Ren chuckled. "Maybe later." She rubbed her leg up and down against his. "Iron Bull," she said after a few minutes.

"What?"

"Why do you call me that?"

He was surprised by the question, but not surprised. Cole had all but predicted that it would come up. "Morvoren? It's your name."

"No one calls me that. They haven't in all my memory."

"It suits you."

She propped herself up on an elbow and frowned at him. "I've never thought so."

"Your mother must have," he said, then caught himself. It wasn't really fair to use what Cole had said in conversation with her. "I mean, she must have named you, right?"

Ren nodded. "She did. But then she died. I was only about a year and a half—she died giving birth to my younger brother, Gawen—so I don't remember her at all. My father called me Alys, my middle name, because he said that was more suitable, but I never felt like an Alys. I asked him about ... my name once, and he said something about my mother's foolish romanticism."

"Nice guy."

"Not really." She looked away.

Remembering what else Cole had said, the Iron Bull lifted his head to look at her more clearly. "Do you mind my using it?"

"No, I suppose not. It sounds ... different when you say it, like it belongs to me for the first time."

"Good." He stroked her hair back from her face. There were shadows under her eyes that he hadn't seen before. "You look tired."

"I am tired." She frowned at him. "You look tired, too. Didn't you sleep while I was gone? Too busy partying, no doubt."

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her about waiting here for her, about the vivid images of her dead or injured that had haunted his dreams, about pacing the battlements long into the night, occasionally sitting in Cullen's office for a drink when the Commander couldn't sleep, either, each communing with their own shadows. But he couldn't tell her that; it was too much, too revealing. Instead, he said, "We almost had a crisis with the kid."

"Cole?" Ren stilled, waiting for the bad news. She knew the Iron Bull and Varric cared greatly about the spirit-boy, but she still wasn't sure she trusted him.

"Yeah. Solas tried to do that binding ritual or whatever it was with the amulet, but it didn't take. Something was in the way, I guess? So Cole dragged us all down to the Hinterlands chasing after the Templar who locked the real Cole up and forgot him. Varric let him dry-fire Bianca at the guy, and now Cole is ... human? I don't know. I don't get it. But he's happier, and that I get."

Ren guessed that must be better, then. Cole happier and more human was probably a good thing, overall, and she trusted the Iron Bull's judgement. "Wait—Varric let someone else fire Bianca?"

"Yeah, I thought it was weird, too. Varric's taken the kid under his wing, though. He's giving him person lessons."

"That's got to be interesting."

The Iron Bull chuckled. "Oh, yeah. So that's what happened here. How were the Exalted Plains?"

"Something less than exalted." Ren sighed. "They weren't bad, though, and I think we're mostly finished there. On the way back, though, we detoured to the Emerald Graves, and that was ... wearying."

"Why?"

"Giants."

The Iron Bull sat up fully, scowling at her. "You fought a fucking giant without me?"

"No." Ren grimaced. "We fought five."

"Five?"

"They just kept coming. The first one was by itself—himself? I'm never sure. Then three at once, who were fighting some Red Templars, and we ended up in the middle of that. And then, just when I thought we had the last one, Vivienne saw one more giant standing off by himself—not even paying attention to us—and decided to shoot him with lightning." Ren groaned. "I wanted to shoot her with lightning. I think Dorian may have, accidentally on purpose."

The Iron Bull was torn between concern for her safety and bitter envy. "I like fighting giants," he muttered.

"I know you do. Trust me, I really, really wished you were there. Cassandra's very good, but she isn't you."

"Well, that's something, at least," he grumbled. "You owe me a giant, though. Maybe two."

Ren laughed. "Done. Gladly." She straddled his lap, taking his face in her hands and kissing him. The Iron Bull wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her back. Neither of them were ready for another round quite yet, though, and when the kiss ended she slid down to rest against him, her head against his chest listening to the steady thump of his heart. Where was there another giant to kill, she wondered. And then she thought of it—what he really wanted, what she could do for him that would be special. To the Void with giants. She would take him to kill a dragon. Ren could feel excitement surge in her veins just thinking about it, the two of them and a dragon, taking it down together.

Planning the expedition in her head, she lay there warm and comfortable in his arms until he yawned loudly. "Much as I hate to say this, if I stay here, I'm gonna go to sleep."

Ren rested her chin on her folded arms, looking up at him. "I wish you could."

"Me, too." He thought about leaving it there, but so much of what had happened between them had been affected by not telling each other enough of what they were thinking. "It's not that I would mind people knowing, but ..."

"I don't want them to, not yet." Ren sat up on her knees next to him. "Does that bother you? I just ... I don't want to share this."

"I don't, either," he said, sitting up and reaching for her. He kissed her hard, one hand in her hair and the other one squeezing her ass. He flipped her over onto her stomach, his hand resting on her firm, rounded buttock. "Morvoren?"

"Yes, Bull, please." She lifted her ass in the air to give him better access.

He spanked her until her skin was thoroughly reddened, and then took her from behind. He left her there, tucked warmly under the blankets, completely sated, and made his way in the rain back to his room above the tavern.