Cullen woke from a fitful sleep at the sound of a tentative knock. Acting without thought, he shoved the blankets aside and raced to the door to pull it open. Before Dorian could do more than blink, Cullen reached out and pulled him into the room. "Are you all right?" Cullen asked as he shut the door, then took Dorian's face between his hands. "Did something happen?"

Dorian's face was a study of emotion, flitting through a series of minute expression changes before settling on bemusement. "I don't think I've ever seen your hair quite that mussed."

"My-" Cullen reached up to his unruly curls, made worse by his tossing and turning of the night before, then shook his head. "Blame Orlais. It's been damp."

"It's charming," Dorian murmured, then leaned in for a soft kiss. "Also, hello."

Immediately Cullen felt a bit sheepish. "Hello," he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Ah. I've been worried about you, is all."

"I noticed." Dorian reached up and took both of Cullen's hands in his own. "I hope I'm not imposing."

"Of course not," Cullen assured him. In all honesty, he had no idea what time it was, other than night . "I am here for you, I promise."

A smile came to Dorian's face. "Good. Because I need someone right now, and I'd prefer it be you."

Turning Dorian's hands over, Cullen planted a kiss in both palms before looking up to meet Dorian's gaze. "What do you need from me?"

"Well, for one, a comfortable seat would be nice," Dorian admitted. "I fell asleep on the chair next to Father's bed and seem to have developed a dreadful crick in my neck."

"Then I'll do you one better." Cullen tugged Dorian to the incredibly Orlesian one-armed sofa near the bathroom. "Here. This is the softest thing to sit on in this room, perfect for you to relax on while I work on your shoulders."

"What? My Commander, noticing such things as creature comforts instead of only the practical things in life?" Dorian asked in a mock-surprised voice. "Whatever will people say?"

"Hush, you," Cullen said with a chuckle. "Sit down while I fetch a few things." Leaving Dorian for a moment, Cullen moved to the bureau and pulled a few supplies out of it, then grabbed the water pitcher and a glass on the way back. As he settled everything on a small table next to the chaise, he said, "That should be most of what I need." He considered Dorian thoughtfully for a moment, then shook his head. "But first we need to get that off."

Dorian's eyebrow rose. "Get what off, exactly?"

"Your tunic, of course. You've been wearing it long enough, and I can't rub your shoulders through all that anyway." Not that he could deny he had other, ulterior motives for the request. It had been less than a day ago that he'd seen a dagger sprouting from Dorian's side, and he wanted to reassure himself that Dorian wasn't trying to make light of any lingering wounds.

A small inner voice pointed out that it was also more than that , as well, and Cullen knew it. That moment when he'd seen Dorian lying in a pool of blood on the ground with a dagger in his side still haunted him. He needed to be close to Dorian- had needed to be close to Dorian ever since that moment, but one thing or another had reared its ugly head to prevent enough time to truly assure himself that Dorian was safe.

And, more importantly, to be as close to Dorian in all ways as he possibly could be.

Thankfully Dorian wasn't in his normal outfit, or Cullen suspected they would have had to spend a few minutes just undoing the buckles. As it was, the formal uniform only needed a few ribbons tugged loose and some buttons undone before Cullen was able to ease it off over Dorian's head. "There we are. Now let's get you set up right..." Guiding Dorian to lie on his stomach and cross his arms for a headrest on the slightly raised arm of the chaise, Cullen moved to stand at Dorian's head and retrieved the oil bottle. "Let's work on that neck, shall we?"

As Cullen poured some of the lotus oil onto his hands, Dorian asked, "I have to ask: why do you happen to have oil for this?"

"Oil is necessary to maintain arms and armor," Cullen explained. "Any good soldier will always have some in their kit."

"Oh." Dorian sounded disappointed. "That's rather... pedestrian."

"Why else would I have it?" Cullen asked absently, even as his hands found Dorian's neck and began to smooth the oil over his skin.

Dorian chuckled even as he leaned his head forward a bit. "I rather think I shouldn't answer that. It might reveal too much about me."

Cullen's hands slowed, then stopped completely as his mind puzzled through the words before arriving at the most likely answer for such an odd response. "Oh." He felt his ears redden and cleared his throat. "Well... Ah. That's... not an unheard use, either. Especially after a long or dangerous battle, when you feel like you're lucky to be alive. Fighting really gets the blood pumping."

When Dorian half-turned his head to glance up at him with a twinkle in one eye, Dorian asked, "Do you speak from personal experience, Commander?"

The heat in his ears burned a bit hotter. "I thought you wanted to talk."

Cullen felt Dorian's muscles tense under his fingers. "I do, but I wouldn't mind a little distraction first."

"And you think my tales of past encounters with lotus oil will somehow help with that?"

"Oh, you have no idea," Dorian told him, his voice suddenly the epitome of sultry .

Maker. Cullen cleared his throat before answering, determined not to let Dorian lead him too far astray from the real reason for his visit. "Well, I never used it in company after a fight, no. It was more stress release than anything, a reminder than I was alive and the demons were gone. And of course, sometimes it was... necessary after an encounter with a desire demon. At least, when I was younger. Before the Blight." He frowned, the topic losing some of its amusement factor. "After that, for a long time, I couldn't even bear to-" He stopped himself, then cleared his throat. "Mostly it was stories I heard when I was a recruit, and the jokes you hear in the barracks."

Dorian reached up and set his hand lightly on Cullen's arm. "Couldn't bear to what?" he asked softly.

For a long moment, Cullen debated whether or not to answer, then finally sighed. "Touch myself. For pleasure, anyway. Not after... not after the Blight. Not for a long time."

He waited, chest tight, for Dorian to ask questions, to want to know more, but Dorian simply nodded slowly and put his arm under his head again. "Your hands feel marvelous," he said in a warm tone.

Recalled to his task, Cullen dug into Dorian's neck and shoulders again with a will. "I'm sorry," he offered. "That probably wasn't as distracting as you had hoped."

Dorian's shoulders moved in a small shrug. "Don't apologize. Perhaps it was not diverting, but I learned something about you. That is precious to me, and always will be."

A smile came to Cullen's lips. "I suppose I don't talk about myself a great deal."

"Any more than I do. I mean, other than about my obvious perfection," Dorian said with a chuckle.

Cullen rolled his eyes even as he grinned. "Obviously." Still, the combination of the conversation and Cullen's massage seemed to be doing Dorian some good. "Your neck is getting looser, though that doesn't mean I'm done with you. It just means you can start talking about what drove you here in the middle of the night."

Dorian fell silent again, and remained so until Cullen began to knead his shoulders. When he finally spoke, it was with a peculiarly dull voice. "Father woke up."

Cullen's fingers tightened on Dorian's shoulders for a moment, then went back to the massage. "Is it... bad?"

"I-" Dorian's voice failed, and he took a deep breath. "Yes. It is."

Cullen knelt and wrapped his arms around Dorian as best as he could, knowing he'd done the right thing when Dorian's hands reached up and gripped his arms tightly. "Can it be undone?"

"I don't know. It's like no spell we've ever seen, and nothing like the Templar ritual-and that's the only one I'm even peripherally familiar with which achieves the same result." Dorian sighed again, hands spasming where they gripped Cullen. "Cassandra said she'll work with Maevaris to see if the dagger can give us a hint about how it works, since the spells on both the arrow and dagger are the same, but... but for now, my father is... broken."

Noticing how Dorian danced around the more common word for his condition, Cullen simply help Dorian tight. "I'm sorry, Dorian."

"I'm not sure I'll ever be able to forgive him what he's done, what he tried to do," Dorian whispered, "but he's still my father. And he took that arrow while trying to save me. I... I can't forget that, even if he couldn't have known the consequence."

"I know," Cullen said. He couldn't bring himself to defend Halward, not after what he'd done, but he could at least support Dorian. When Dorian shifted beneath him, Cullen eased up on his embrace and helped Dorian sit up before joining him on the chaise. Wrapping his arm loosely around Dorian's waist, he took one of Dorian's hands in his own and gave it a little squeeze. "Talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking."

For answer, Dorian sighed and leaned his head on Cullen's shoulder. "It's not just my father that's bothering me, true."

"Oh?" Cullen asked, shifting to make Dorian more comfortable, and secretly grateful for the other man's closeness. "Or do you mean your mother?"

"No, though I do find Fate an exceedingly cruel mistress to have struck down both of them with the same instrument," Dorian noted. Cullen again noted the odd dullness in his voice, and decided that was probably Dorian's way of dealing with his grief-or whatever emotions plagued him.

"I'd be angry, too," Cullen said, drawing Dorian down to sit next to him on the couch. "I can't imagine how you're even managing right now, with all that's burdening you."

Dorian lifted his head long enough to reach up and cup Cullen's face with one hand, a little smile coming to his face. "I think you have more faith in me than I do."

"Or maybe you don't have enough faith in yourself." Cullen reached up to squeeze the hand on his face, slowly stroking Dorian's wrist with his thumb. "From where I sit, you've been pretty damned impressive. Empress Celene is still on the throne, you made sure there's an elven voice in the Orlesian Court, and you managed to survive all the machinations of both Corypheus and Amell. You should be proud of what you've accomplished."

He could tell by the way Dorian's brow knit together that pride was the furthest thing from Dorian's mind. "Then why can I only remember what I failed to do?"

Ah. Now there was a guilt Cullen understood all too well. It was one he felt every time he had to write the final letter home to a family who would never see their child again. "Need to talk about it?"

"With you? Yes." Dorian met Cullen's gaze and smiled. "I trust you completely." As the warm feeling again spread through Cullen, Dorian added, "And it ties into what you saw at Skyhold. Hopefully between the two of us, we can figure it all out. We can be rather clever at times, after all."

"You can be," Cullen said ruefully. "Listening to you talk to Magister Tilani about magic makes me feel like a recruit again."

"And listening to you talk to Bull about fighting rather leaves me quite confused, I assure you," Dorian said with a chuckle. "Don't try to pull that on me, Commander. I won't believe you."

Cullen raised an eyebrow. "I thought you trusted me."

The comment made Dorian tilt his head ever so slightly as he studied Cullen's face for a few moments. Suddenly he reached up and took Cullen's face between his hands, drawing him into a brief, tender kiss before pressing their foreheads together. "I do, as I have trusted no other."

Shifting so they could be a bit more comfortable without losing the intimacy of the connection, Cullen settled his hands on Dorian's knees and squeezed lightly. "Tell me everything."

Dorian took a long, shuddering breath, then claimed Cullen's hands as he straightened, demeanor now completely serious. "When it started, I thought it nothing but dreams."

At first, Cullen simply listened, though his concern grew with each new revelation. For a while, he simply built a list of questions to ask, but eventually he could no longer contain them. The monologue quickly shifted to a discussion, then an analysis, and, ultimately, a frank exchange of lingering fear and speculation.

And, along the way, a great deal of discovery.

"So it was Amell who arranged for the red lyrium in Skyhold," Cullen breathed at one point. "I mean, I knew , but it was more a hunch and a fear than proof."

"That is the way I see it, though I didn't know until after you'd already consumed it." Rubbing his forehead with a sigh, Dorian grimaced. "I feel like I should have been able to put it together sooner, to realize that you were their target earlier, but by the time I heard their plan, it had already failed despite you falling prey to them-or so I thought. Dagna had done her work, and you were doing better. And I didn't want to concern you." When Cullen leveled a look at him, Dorian hastily added, "Ah, even more than you already were. Though now I wish I'd talked to you before the Winter Palace. Perhaps-"

Cullen quickly reached up and placed a finger on Dorian's lips. "No, don't go there. I'd been warned plenty of times to drink nothing because of Orlesian intrigue, and I still gulped it down like a fool. That's my fault. And I'm not sure how much more alert any of us could have been. Thankfully, it doesn't seem to have had much more of an impact than to make that part of the evening...odd." He patted the mail shirt on his chest. "Though I have this to thank for it."

He didn't mention the brief time he'd removed it to take a bath, and ended up quickly using a wet cloth and soap to clean the worst of the battle away before stuffing himself back into it once more. The keening of the corrupted song of the red lyrium had pressed on him as soon as the mail shirt came off, and he dared not take the chance of seeing what happened if he listened to it for long. He tried not to think about what it would be like without the mail shirt, however. They already had too much to worry about.

"For me, it was pride which led to my downfall," Dorian mused, pulling Cullen away from his spiral of thoughts. "Despite knowing, and being warned repeatedly, that the map led to an ambush, I thought that preparedness on our part could overcome planning on theirs. And I was wrong."

"But even Leliana said she would have accepted the map as genuine on its surface," Cullen pointed out. "Surely there's no need to beat yourself up about it." Dorian frowned and looked away, obviously still troubled about something relating to the map. When he remained silent, Cullen added, "And look how much you learned from that mistake."

"Only because it was Hawke, and I'd already-unknowingly, I might add-compromised Amell's spell on him. If it had gone the way Amell had intended..." Dorian's voice trailed off as he looked down at his left hand and clenched it into a fist. "The evening would have had quite the different ending."

Snatching up Dorian's left hand, Cullen quickly planted a kiss on the back of it. "It didn't. Maybe Andraste is watching you after all, or maybe you used up an entire lifetime's worth of sheer dumb luck, but it didn't, and now we know a great deal more than we did."

"But not quite enough." Dorian's thumb ran over Cullen's fingers for a moment before he looked up to meet the other man's gaze. "Besides, I haven't told you the worst of it."

Cullen felt himself tensing up, but forced himself to relax as he twined their fingers together tightly. "Go on," he said, grimly. "Though I have a feeling I'm not going to enjoy this."

"No." Dorian's eyes closed again, and a furrow Cullen knew meant pain creased Dorian's brow. "By the time I got to Father, he was asleep, so I settled into the chair to wait for him to awaken. And I dreamed."

As Dorian forced out the words to describe what Amell had done to Hawke and Alistair in retribution for their failure, Cullen felt his blood turn to ice. "Amell… possessed?"

"Hawke seems to think so, and certainly there is something odd about his behavior." Dorian's gaze grew distant. "Perhaps it was because I was there at a distance, instead of physically being there, but I couldn't feel a whiff of the Fade about Amell. So either he is possessed, or simply insane."

"I don't like either option," Cullen admitted.

"Insanity would explain what he did," Dorian said with a grimace.

Cullen frowned. "What do you mean?"

"To Alistair." Dorian's eyes closed, and then the explanation came all in a rush, the words falling over each other as Dorian described just how, precisely, Amell had punished Hawke and Alistair for their insolence of failure.

The ice in Cullen's veins flashed over to boiling anger as Dorian finally fell silent. After another long moment of shock, Cullen suddenly growled, "We will destroy him. For this, for the murder of Mailani..." His voice failed him at that point, but he saw Dorian nod.

"Yes, we will." Dorian's eyes opened, an implacable fury in his expression. "We must."

Caught speechless, Cullen nevertheless could not let that declaration pass unrewarded. Still, it was more than passion which made his hands reach up and sink into Dorian's hair, pulling him into a heated kiss. It proved hard to pin down precisely what he felt in that moment: pride in his Inquisitor, the burn of shared righteous fury, or simply desperation to reassure himself that Amell had failed-utterly and completely-in his attempt to destroy the man who lips he now claimed with devout adoration. Whatever the cause, by the time he released Dorain's lips and pressed their foreheads together, their breath came in short pants as they gulped down air.

"You will," Cullen breathed. "And I will be by your side every step of the way."

Dorian's forehead creased, and he pulled back from Cullen, his pale eyes searching Cullen's face closely. "You are glorious," he murmured, but Cullen saw the doubt stir deep in his gaze.

Cullen frowned. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Can it be that simple?" Dorian wondered. "I haven't forgotten about what happened in the jail at Skyhold. And there was clearly an outside entity involved in drawing me into Hawke's dreams. In all honesty, there truly is only one word for that when a mage is involved, isn't there? "

Cullen's shoulders tensed up. "You're no abomination," he said tightly.

Dorian's eyes closed as he took a long, shuddering breath, as if the word had triggered something within. "What we have between us, it couldn't... There's no room for that."

"No," Cullen said, then reached up to cup Dorian's cheek. "Just as there's no room for a red lyrium addict. Thankfully neither of us are those things."

"But-" Dorian began, then fell silent as Cullen again pressed a finger to his lips.

"We're not," Cullen said firmly. "Let's just work our way through this. I mean, this isn't the first time our dreams have been manipulated, have they?"

"No," Dorian admitted. "Mailani-" He paused, then looked down at his left hand again, expression thoughtful. "Mailani brought us together in the Fade," he said slowly.

"You said you thought it was because the Anchor can unlock dreams, right?" Cullen prompted. "But she was always there, too. Maybe it wasn't unlocking dreams, but... well, anchoring someone to her own presence there. So she'd go to your dream and pull me in, or be in my dream and pull you in. It's unlocking, yes, but she was the... the focus."

Dorian frowned in concentration, obviously turning the concept around in his mind. "The spirit I saw, the one who sent me back every time... you think he was the being the anchor pulled me to? I wonder why? Mailani at least had a previous tie to the mark, and maintained it until she was finally able to separate from it in the Fade. Perhaps it is different for a spirit than a soul."

"A spirit might be drawn to your dreams if they evoked its nature. Like a demon, but less… demon-y." Brow furrowing, Cullen added, "Some recruits mentioned meeting spirits in the Fade during their Harrowing, though that does involve a ritual and not merely a dream. But the Anchor might prove to be more a lure than even a mage."

Raising his left hand, Dorian flexed it slowly as the green light sprang to life. "You know... a few nights before the first of these dreams, I had an odd series of dreams. One of them was with Hawke, of that night we-" He paused, then suddenly cleared his throat violently. "Ah, it was a... vivid dream, let's say."

"Vigorous, even?" Cullen said, unable to keep himself from grinning. It was rare that he saw Dorian flustered, after all. "Just how long was he in this particular dream, hmm?"

Ignoring the question, Dorian continued on, though Cullen noticed that he pointedly avoided looking at Cullen's knowing smirk. "At any rate, at the time, I simply thought it a normal dream, if a bit... ah, intense. But now I wonder..."

"Oh, I see. You think that's when the spirit found you, perhaps?" Cullen frowned. "But what is their connection to Hawke?"

"Hawke was in the Fade," Dorian pointed out. "Physically, I mean. And he's no mage. I can't see him succumbing to a demon, but an alliance with a spirit? Perhaps even one that helped them to escape the Fade?"

"It's possible," Cullen conceded dubiously. "And it does sound like the sort of twisted luck that always seemed to work for Hawke in Kirkwall. Except for when it didn't, of course." Suddenly Cullen frowned as a macabre idea came to him. "Wait. Hawke." After a moment or two of prodding the idea, he caught Dorian's gaze. "That morning in the jail. That was right after you found out about your mother's murder, wasn't it?"

Dorian nodded. "Directly after, in fact. Why?"

"It's... well, it's just that Hawke's mother was murdered," Cullen explained. "By a blood mage. Rather horribly, in fact. It's one of the reasons why Meredith even gave Hawke the option to stand with the Templars despite being Anders' lover-because she respected the pain he'd experienced at the hands of a blood mage."

Dorian's eyes widened, remembering the almost incandescent rage he'd felt that day, with Livius' life dangling by a thread over the waterfall. "So... you're saying maybe it wasn't a spirit at all."

"Let's just say that the way you acted that day would not have been out of character for Hawke," Cullen said. "I don't know if that's the whole answer, but if our theory is anywhere close to being true, then he would have been able to look through your eyes as well, wouldn't he? And you did say that the mark glowed like a heartbeat whenever you woke up from one of those dreams. I'd say that's a sign it was involved, somehow, wouldn't you?"

"There was always a pulsing beat when I was there.. At first, I just thought it was the heartbeat of my host-of Hawke. I didn't notice the mark glowing that way until later." Dorian frowned, brow knitting tightly as his fingers drummed on his leg. "It's not a bad theory, of course, but I'm not sure how we can ever prove or disprove it. Besides, seeing through someone's eyes isn't quite the same as influencing their actions."

"You were able to modify the spell on Hawke," Cullen pointed out. "That implies some sort of influence is possible. And I could see Hawke having less restraint about interfering if he were angry."

Dorian fell silent for a while, mulling the idea in his mind. "I still think we're missing something," he admitted, "but for now, at least, it's a cheerier prospect than thinking I've succumbed to the untoward influence of a darker denizen of the Fade."

"Yes," Cullen said fervently. "I-I can't bear to think of you... like that." Just the thought of Dorian at the mercy of a demon made a chill run down his spine.

A sad little smile came to Dorian's face. "I admit, I'm a bit surprised you haven't absconded for the hills upon hearing that I may have a whiff of the Fade about me. After what you've been through, I wouldn't expect you to take that chance."

Something in the tone, or maybe in his expression, made Cullen pause before replying. His eyes searched Dorian's face closely as he tried to figure out what he should respond to in that statement first. Finally, he simply took Dorian's hands in his own. "What I've been through includes more than what demons and blood mages did to me, Dorian," he said softly. "It also has taught me who I can trust to help me back to my feet once the demons are gone."

A bit of tension left Dorian's shoulders, and the sadness left his face. "I'm grateful. I suppose I keep bracing myself for when-" Dorian paused, then cleared his throat. "You are a remarkable man, Commander."

Now Cullen frowned, hearing the uncertainty in Dorian's tone. "When what?" When Dorian hesitated, Cullen let himself get a bit stern as he added, "If you won't let me do that, I'm not going to let you do it, either. Out with it."

Dorian's brows pinched together as he quickly looked away, but not before Cullen saw the flash of pain in his eyes. "When I'll be alone again."

Something about the combination of Dorian's hesitation and the pain in his eyes made Cullen realize that the words reached far beyond himself, and he swallowed the immediate platitudes he wanted to give. Instead he took Dorian's hands and twined their fingers together as he evaluated how best to proceed. "Tell me what you fear."

Dorian's eyes closed as he took a shuddering breath. "I take it you don't mean the rather pedestrian fears of Corypheus and Amell and being parceled out for parts like a festival nug?"

Recognizing Dorian's need for reassurance, Cullen squeezed Dorian's fingers. "No. I mean the fear that really matters right now."

"Since I am pressed for an answer," Dorian began, then hesitated once more. "I suppose I'm afraid I demand too much of you. What you said before, about how you want me to experience all the moments. It... it reminded me so very much how impossible such moments have been for me all my life."

Cullen's brows pinched together. "Impossible? Because of your father?"

"Oh, not him alone. Where I come from, anything between two men...it's about pleasure," Dorian explained. "It's accepted-that is, relations are accepted, along with a sly wink and a knowing nod, but then it is taken no further. You learn not to hope for more, such as… well, such as what I saw between you and Mailani. It would be foolish to hope for that, as foolish as hoping for a unicorn. They're the same in the Imperium: a mythical beast which entices you with its beauty but in the end is nothing but a lie."

Cullen felt each and every emotion in those words in the muscles of Dorian's fingers, in the form of tension and trembling both. At the same time, he tried to wrap his mind around what living in that environment must have done to Dorian, in addition to all the problems heaped on him by his parents. Finally a little smile came to his face. "Do you even know how brave you are?"

That was enough to make Dorian blink at him. "Pardon?"

"I didn't think so." And suddenly, just holding Dorian's hands wasn't enough. Cullen reached up and hooked his hand behind Dorian's neck, pulling the man into a heated kiss. Dorian's surprise quickly faded, then rose again when Cullen shifted tactics and pushed Dorian until his back was pressed against the sloping arm of the chaise, with Cullen straddling him. As the kiss deepened and lengthened, Cullen settled his hands on Dorian's shoulders, then slowly raked them down Dorian's chest and sides until they came to rest on the hips below.

Dorian moaned softly into the kiss, his own hands rising to sink into Cullen's hair. When the kiss ended-due to the need for air more than anything-he gazed up at Cullen with that now-familiar tender smile. "Maker," he breathed. "Where did that come from?"

"Because you just told me that every kiss and every intimate conversation we've ever shared is because you were brave enough to do it even though everything you know told you it might be our last," Cullen said. "You don't think that's brave?"

"Well, I wouldn't put it quite in those words," Dorian said with a chuckle, trying to make light of it.

"I would," Cullen insisted. "And I will. Because bravery isn't about being strong enough to go to battle when you know you'll win. It's about fighting even when you're certain you're going to lose."

Dorian's eyes searched Cullen's face with darting little motions as the furrow in his brow slowly faded. "You are glorious," he whispered, then hauled Cullen down for another kiss.

This one was quite the different animal. A brush of the lips turned into a caress, and the caress shifted into a slow, thorough exploration. Cullen's eyelids fluttered shut as he surrendered himself to it, and to Dorian. The light touch of Dorian's mustache against the scar on his lip as Dorian deepened the kiss made Cullen's toes curl, and he ran his hands up and down Dorian's sides, savoring the sensation of bare skin beneath his fingers. The world around them faded away, leaving behind only the heat and passion to bloom between them.

By the time that kiss came to an end, Cullen could quite intimately feel the effect it had on both of them. He saw it in Dorian's face, too, in his half-lidded eyes and the hint of color in his cheeks. One of Dorian's hands rose to rest on Cullen's neck, fingers playing idly with the curls at the nape of his neck as he tilted his head and smiled that almost vulnerable little smile which made Cullen feel warm all over.

And Cullen knew he would never have enough of him.

Lowering his head, Cullen brushed their lips together for a moment, then set his hands on either side of Dorian for support as he set to exploring more of Dorian than just his lips. As his mouth moved down Dorian's neck, he experimented a little to see how Dorian reacted. Nibbling elicited a breathy gasp, while sucking turned the gasp into a soft moan-but a soft bite at the point where neck and shoulder met earned him a buck of the hips and a Tevene oath that was half-growl, half-groan.

Cullen grinned and filed that away for later, but for the moment, he had something else in mind. As his mouth continued its downward journey, his lips brushed over Dorian's silken, heated skin with a fervent adoration. The burning need from before had returned, the need which had driven him to pin Dorian to the wall of the Winter Palace and damn the consequences, and he gave into it with a will. The need didn't call for a rush to climax, but for a continual state of the sort of intimacy he suspected Dorian had never been allowed to experience.

Beyond all else, Cullen needed to feel Dorian-and to feel him in a way untainted by the dreams soured by Amell.

So Cullen moved his mouth over Dorian's torso, savoring every inch in as many ways as he could imagine, memorizing which spots drew the most reaction for future utilization. He found the remnants of the wound from the Winter Palace, treating it gently as the new-formed scar deserved, but happy it had already been reduced to but a memory. Every so often he would pull himself up to Dorian's lips for a searing kiss, stealing Dorian's breath and leaving him gasping before he returned to his thorough exploration.

As he did so, Dorian's hands moved restlessly, kneading and clutching at Cullen's shoulders, neck and head. Occasionally he would shudder and hiss something unintelligible under his breath, but for the most part, Cullen reduced him to wordless gasps and moans. He wasn't without a response of his own, however, particularly during the kisses. Every time Cullen's lips met his, Dorian's hips entered the fray with a slow, steady rolling motion.

Cullen groaned when he felt Dorian's now-hard length press into his own, the clothing barely an impediment between them. Each roll of Dorian's hips meant a long, firm stroke along his own ache, the clothing adding a sensation he hadn't realized could be so damned erotic. Finally he muttered an oath of his own and raised his hand to sink into Dorian's hair, pulling him into a hard kiss as his body shifted to open a bit of room between them. While he dug his length into Dorian's thigh, Cullen slid his free hand down Dorian's body until he found the hardness between the legs. A long, firm stroke earned him a desperate moan, and he chuckled into the kiss before pulling back so he could smile down at Dorian. "Enjoying yourself?"

"I would think that's more than evident," Dorian gasped, hips edging upward to press himself into Cullen's hand. "This is revenge, isn't it? For all my terrible teasing?"

"I haven't even begun to fight," Cullen murmured, then claimed Dorian's lips before the man could retort to that blatant lie.

Even as Dorian's hands latched onto Cullen's head for another passionate kiss, Cullen's fingers deftly tackled the lacings of their plush velvet prisons. Once the captives had been freed, Cullen set to exploring Dorian's with a touch which alternated between gentle and stern. Dorian broke the kiss then, pressing his head back into the arm of the chaise as he groaned, "Kaffas . You... really don't play fair, Commander."

"Do you want me to?" Cullen asked with a smirk, even as he shifted to straddle Dorian once more-but not for long. His hands landed on Dorian's hips long enough to grind his newly freed erection against Dorian, then gripped the mage's pants as Cullen slid off the couch and pulled. The pants came off with enough suddenness that Dorian yelped, but the motion also pulled Dorian's hips down a bit.

The mage instinctively kept himself on the chaise by gripping the upholstery, trying to find his balance for a moment or two. Cullen took advantage of that moment to shove his own pants to the floor and get on the couch again, rubbing his aching length against Dorian's as he claimed the man's lips once more.

As Dorian moaned into the kiss, Cullen let his hips begin a slow, steady rocking motion. This is what he needed: to feel Dorian, to hear Dorian, to know that they were both alive. Twining their fingers together, he raised their hands above Dorian's head and pressed them into the chaise as he deepened the kiss into something more primal, losing himself in the heat of the kiss and the steady rocking of his hips.

He let the heat continue to build between them, not content with the thought of a swift climb and fall. No, he wanted to savor each and every instant: the creaking of the chaise, the sound of Dorian's moans, the sensation of heat and hardness pinned between them. This is what he craved, what he would never have enough of, and this was something he would treasure when their duties pulled them apart once more.

Eventually the kiss had to end, and Cullen buried his head in the crook of Dorian's neck as he gasped for air. Releasing Dorian from his grip, his hands moved to Dorian's ass, shifting the angle of his lower body as his own hips began to dig deeper. At some point Cullen blindly found the lotus oil abandoned from before, anointing both of them as he took matters in hand more directly. As he stroked and squeezed their lengths together, he found and matched the sublime rhythm of their hips, driving them ever higher and higher in a long, tantalizing arc. The goal might not be a mystery, but the journey was what truly mattered.

He lost himself in the moment, and the world became nothing but Dorian: the heat of his breath, the softness of his lips, the tickle of his mustache, the roll of his hips, and the desperation of his moans. Nothing else mattered, nothing else existed, except for the man panting and writhing beneath him.

Together they found the peak, and together they fell into pure bliss.

It took a while for him to return to the mundane world after that, though he did slide a bit to one side so as not to crush Dorian. His head found its perfect home on the man's shoulder, a home he didn't want to leave any time soon. After all, their vigorous activity had warmed them enough that their state of undress didn't matter, once the towel had been retrieved and put to good use to clean up a bit. Snuggling close, Cullen laid his arm over Dorian's stomach and twined their legs below, shifting a bit here and there until they were both comfortable.

After that, they simply rested in one another's arms. Words proved unnecessary, and after a few moments, Cullen felt a soft kiss on his ear. With a smile, he let his eyes slide shut as sleep claimed him.

For the moment, at least, he was exactly where he wanted to be.

Cullen woke to the sensation of fingers running through his hair. His eyes refused to open yet, but he flexed his hand where it rested on Dorian's abdomen as a signal that he was awake...sort of.

"Mmm, is the sleeping beauty rousing from slumber?" Dorian asked in a velvety voice that made a shiver run down Cullen's spine.

With a grunt, Cullen tried to take account of his position. He'd forgotten how hard it was to wake up after falling asleep in someone's arms. "No."

Dorian chuckled, and the fingers moved to tuck a lock of curly hair back behind his ear. "I'm afraid your hair is an absolute catastrophe at the moment."

Cullen's lips moved into that half-smirk as he finally managed to open his eyes and squint up at the man next to him. When he found Dorian's hair suspiciously neat, he said, "And you cheat."

"Me? Cheat?" Dorian affected innocence.

"Yes, you." With some difficulty, Cullen pushed himself up to his elbow, then leaned in and claimed a soft, lingering kiss. When their lips parted, he murmured, "Hello."

"Hello," Dorian replied, that oh-so-beautiful tender smile on his lips.

It was so beautiful that Cullen found himself unable to resist kissing it, then let the kiss naturally deepen. His hand stole up to rest on Dorian's cheek for a moment before moving down Dorian's body, tracing the lines of the man's neck and chest with gentle worship. When their lips parted, Cullen slowly opened his eyes and met Dorian's gaze. "I could get used to this."

"The kissing? I daresay you already are," Dorian said with a chuckle.

"Not just that," Cullen told him. "Falling asleep in your arms. Waking up next to you. Saying good morning with a kiss, and good night with some bliss. All of it."

The emotions which flitted across Dorian's face in response to Cullen's words moved too rapidly for Cullen to properly assimilate, but he knew uncertainty when he saw it, even before Dorian spoke. "I find it difficult to believe in unicorns, Commander."

"You don't need to believe in them," Cullen whispered. "You just need to believe in me."

Dorian's brow furrowed as his grey eyes searched Cullen's face with little darting motions. Bit by bit, the worry and lines eased from his face, leaving behind only that little smile which begged for a kiss. "I believe I already do," he murmured as his fingers gently tucked a curl behind Cullen's ear. "Thank you."

"For?"

Without giving an answer, Dorian leaned in and brushed his lips against Cullen's. "We'd better find some soap and water before too long. Eventually someone will oh so politely inquire as to my whereabouts."

Cullen groaned, remembering all too well those oh-so-polite inquiries. "Josephine enjoys them a bit too much, I think," he grumbled.

"Oh, I can think of worse offenders," Dorian said with a laugh. "Imagine what it would be like if they send Bull to find me."

That thought spurred Cullen to his feet, almost before he realized he was moving. In fact, he rose so quickly that he found himself momentarily dizzy. "That was cruel," he accused Dorian as he rubbed at his spinning head.

Dorian's lips clamped together, obviously trying not to laugh as he rose more slowly to his own feet. "In truth, now I just wonder what thought galvanized you to such a swift reaction. Are you afraid he'll invite himself to join in?"

That hadn't actually been the foremost thought on his mind, but once Dorian suggested it, Cullen couldn't stop the subsequent image from flashing through his mind. With a groan, he rubbed his face with his hands. "Don't even... Don't even joke about that."

"Whyever not?" Dorian asked, the amusement clear in his voice.

Cullen sighed heavily. "Because Mailani, the minx, once asked me if I'd be interested in a little extra fun. With Bull." As Dorian laughed, Cullen reached up to rub the back of his neck with a rueful expression on his face. "I suppose I shouldn't have teased her so much about observing him while he practiced."

"Well, no wonder she asked," Dorian said with a grin. "She never was one to leave a good tease unanswered. How did you respond?"

Cullen hesitated, remembering that afternoon quite clearly. His papers had been out of order for days after that from being swept off his desk so abruptly. "Ah... well, she never suggested it again," he finally offered.

"I see," Dorian said in a knowing tone. "Well, I won't pry. But I will speculate."

"Of course you will," Cullen said in a resigned tone.

"I do recall a few times when the smile never left her face after an extended visit with you in your office," Dorian noted in a thoughtful tone. "And she did tell me about one time on the throne when you-"

"Ah, yes, well, the soap and towels are over here," Cullen said hastily as he walked over to the pile next to the bath. "These should work, shouldn't they?"

He paused when he felt arms wrap around his waist from behind, and half-turned his head as he felt a weight fall on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't tease you about Mailani, should I?"

Cullen smiled and let his head rest for a moment against Dorian's crown of thick hair. "I don't think she'd appreciate it if I told you to never mention her around me," Cullen said. "And that's not what I want, anyway." Setting the towel down, he turned in Dorian's arms and took the man's face between his hands. "Even if we didn't share the same kind of feelings for her, we both loved her, and she loved us. I think that wherever she is, she'd be happy for us right now."

"And I'm not stepping on any toes?" Dorian asked, that familiar line of worry appearing between his eyebrows.

"Not where she's concerned, no." Cullen gave Dorian a soft kiss. "Besides, she told you to take care of me, didn't she? So here you are. Taking care of me."

"Last night, I rather think the reverse was true," Dorian observed. "And I'm not talking only about the rather spectacular conclusion, either."

With a chuckle, Cullen pressed their foreheads together. "All the better, to my mind."

Dorian reached up to rest his hands on Cullen's wrists for a moment, closing his eyes with a deep sigh. "I do hope you'll let me return the favor when I return to Skyhold," he murmured.

The word choice caught Cullen's attention immediately. "When you return? Not we?"

After a moment's hesitation, Dorian pulled back slightly. "I'm not going back quite yet, no. I made a promise to someone, and I mean to keep it. Soon." His brows drew together tightly. "I can't leave Hawke and Alistair in Amell's clutches, Cullen. If there's even a chance that going to the Shrine will help them, then I must take the chance."

Cullen closed his eyes and took a deep breath, fighting down the urge to tie Dorian to the saddle of his halla and take them both safely to Skyhold right then and there. "What if it's a trap? What if… what if all those messages and cryptic codes and… and even those dreams are simply a plan to lure you there, so he can succeed where he failed at the Winter Palace? We still don't know his true goals, and Amell has proven to be nothing if not diabolically cunning."

"Then I'll have to be infernally clever," Dorian countered. "I'm certainly not traipsing in alone this time. I was going to ask you to put together a complement of soldiers to accompany me. We have sufficient mounts for a small force, if I am not mistaken, and of course I'll bring some of my closest companions with me."

"And me," Cullen said immediately. In his mind, there was no question that he would accompany Dorian, so he frowned when the man shook his head.

"We can't risk it," Dorian told him. "Not with his utterly strange obsession with you. And…" Dorian reached up to rest his palm on Cullen's chest. "I'm not sure even Dagna would trust her work around him. I can't lose you. It would have been hard before. Now?" He shook his head. "Now it doesn't even bear thinking about."

Again Cullen struggled against a knee jerk reaction, knowing all too intimately the terror of losing those he cared for. "I'm a soldier," he said. "Eventually you'll have to accept that risk when I go into battle."

"Venatori are one thing," Dorian said softly. "A somniari such as Amell? Let us say that I would still worry even if the entirety of the Inquisition Forces were between you and him. Please, Cullen. Indulge me in this."

"So I can sit in Skyhold and fret about you?" Cullen asked pointedly.

Dorian's brows contracted together. "I know it's unfair. Believe me, I am well aware of the hypocrisy of sending you to Skyhold while I gallivant forth into darkest danger. But dangling both of us in front of him at the same time is too much of a risk. If he doesn't get one, I fear he will get the other. Better to leave you well out of it." Reaching up, he trailed his finger along the edge of Cullen's lower lip. "I'm sorry. I know I am asking a great deal of you."

Expelling his breath in one large burst, Cullen shook his head. "You are, but if I am to be honest with myself, I know exactly where you're coming from. And my first instinct was to… Well..." He reached up to rub the back of his neck. "It wasn't to let you go."

"I take it you wanted to tie me to your saddle and carry me away to Skyhold?"

"I won't soon forget the sight of you lying still on the ground with a dagger in your side." He managed to hold the words to a quiet level, but he couldn't quite help the way his hands grabbed Dorian's and squeezed tight. "In some ways, I feel as if you're going into a danger even greater than Corypheus."

"Well, I do have my little green good luck charm," Dorian murmured, wiggling the fingers of his left hand. "That's got to count for something, doesn't it?"

Luck charm. Cullen blinked a few times, then kissed Dorian abruptly before releasing him. "Wait here," he said, then dashed over to his travel bag and began pawing through it. I thought I left it in here somewhere. When his hands finally closed around the little bag, he took a deep breath before pulling it out.

When he turned around, he found Dorian quite close, further proof that the mage was, among other things, a very poor observer of direct orders. "Are you quite all right, Commander?" Dorian asked him, a look of concern on his face.

"I'm fine, I just…" Cullen cleared his throat, then chuckled. "Your words, they made me remember something I'd almost forgotten, that's all." He took Dorian's hand and lifted it palm up, then tugged open the neck of the small bag. "I want to give you this," he said softly, then tipped the bag over.

A small silver coin fell out, and Dorian picked it up to examine it closely. "I sense there's a story behind this," he murmured.

"There is," Cullen said, for a moment remembering the coin resting the palm of someone else very dear to him. He looked up to meet Dorian's eyes. "My brother gave it to me for luck when I left to start my Templar training. I gave it to Mailani for the same purpose, but she told me to keep it." Pausing for a moment, he took a moment to steady himself before adding, "She told me she didn't want my luck to run out."

Dorian's expression softened, and he reached up to lightly touch Cullen's cheek. "I'm sorry."

"For a long time after she died, I wanted to throw it away, but… I couldn't. It was still connected with her, even if I felt like my luck had run out. But now…" A little smile came to his face as he gave Dorian a gentle kiss. "I can't help but wonder if my luck has returned." Closing Dorian's hand around the coin, he took the closed hand between his own. "Take it with you. Please. But more importantly, bring it back to me."

"How could I not?" Dorian put his hand on top of Cullen's, clasping it tightly, and it became clear that the emotion in that grip vastly belied the lighthearted flippancy in his voice. "You know how much I hate owing people money."

Knowing where the truth lay, Cullen chuckled and lifted their joined hands so he could press a kiss to Dorian's knuckles. "Is that why you've perpetually owed Varric five sovereigns for months now?" Cullen teased him.

"Such sass, Commander," Dorian scolded him, stepping closer. "I'm sure there's some sort of rule against insubordination somewhere in our rules."

"Probably in the same part where it talks about fraternization," Cullen countered with a smirk.

A gleam came to Dorian's eyes as he leaned in until his breath fell on Cullen's lips. "Clearly you are not a nice man."

Cullen's lips settled into a cocky grin. "Does that mean we can dispense with the pleasantries?"

A corner of Dorian's mouth curved upwards. "Oh, I hope-"

That was as far as he got before Cullen claimed his lips for a soft kiss that swiftly deepened into something more heated. It didn't take long for Cullen to push Dorian back onto the chaise, though this time his own knees met carpet rather than upholstery.

It was past time for him to break his fast, after all.