The way wasn't far, actually, down the tower to the quarters just below. Despite himself, and his obvious nerves, Solas found himself curious about what his quarters might look like. Books maybe? Elaborate posters hanging on the walls? Pillows stacked up and strewn about like in an exotic palace? Whatever it was, it was sure to be more comfortable, and probably more elaborate, than his own simple quarters.
He wasn't disappointed. Even in the dim light from a candle that a servant, no doubt, had lit, the room was full of colour and life. The bed was tucked away in a corner, headboard at the window, to make room for everything else. There were books, of course, and from where they were peeking out from boxes, it appeared that House Pavus had delivered them for their son. A few staves were leaning against the walls, and one laid upon a table, leather wrappings half off, mixtures glistening in bowls beside it.
Solas closed the door behind them. It had only been a few seconds, and yet Dorian still looked slightly on edge. He tried to hide it, it seemed, by walking over to a standing wardrobe and pulling it open. Solas watched as he unstrapped his armour and hung it up carefully, but with much practice, then his boots.
"Make yourself at home," Dorian said, glancing around at where the elf was still standing by the door.
"I will attempt to," he replied quietly, opting to place down his book on the table to pick up one of the mixtures. "You're studying alchemical enchantments?" He wondered, swirling the mixture about.
"Well, its certainly an attempt," Dorian said, his voice slightly mocking. "Yes, I did some back home, so I was working to improve the staves we have here. Plus," he said, coming over to Solas, hand under his to pull him to the candlelight. "Look at that colour. Have you ever seen a richer blue?"
"It is quite amazing," came the reply, working to keep his eyes on the mixture, and ultimately failing. His ears weren't the only thing turning pink at this point. "But what is its purpose?"
"Freezes all of those baddies the Inquisitor is so fond of poking," Dorian replied in a light voice, finger into the blue mixture and tapping the bare skin of Solas's neck gently. At once, a shiver ripped through him, a few ice crystals appearing on his skin. He put down the bowl instinctively.
"Powerful," he said, and Dorian chuckled, wiping away the ice crystals with warm fingers, which lingered there at his neck. Slowly, his eyes rose to find Dorian watching him, waiting for some sort of response, perhaps. A brush away? A pull? A step closer? He took that step closer, and Dorian's warm hand wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him up, closer, their noses touching softly. Solas hesitated, then put his hand on the man's shoulder, clutching it through the cloth that remained, pulling him in to close the gap.
Their lips met. Dorian made a noise, half of surprise and half of pleasure, the kiss warm, if brief. It was he that pulled away, just a small bit. "Take off your boots. Come to bed," he urged, and Solas simply nodded, hand falling from his shoulder. He was left standing there alone as Dorian turned to dress the bed, and he simply sat down on the floor and worked to remove his boots, and then his belts. He had made the mistake of sleeping with them on a few times, and was determined to never do that again.
When he stood back up, looking around, he found Dorian waiting for him at his bed, hair adorably mussed, and bare-chested. He gave Solas a light smile, and Solas returned it, taking those few steps to close the gap between them. Dorian's hand came to the elf's hip, tugging him closer, and Solas didn't try to resist it, nor did he want to.
"Do you hear that?" Solas wondered, his ears perking to some sound out of the window. Dorian pulled the elf closer, arms around his waist and cheek pressed to his navel. He closed his eyes, listening.
"Is that… singing?" Dorian wondered in a low tone, and for a few minutes, they just listened, Solas's fingers running through the hair that was usually so carefully sculpted.
"Maybe the tavern crowd is still awake?" Solas pondered, and Dorian shrugged.
"Its soothing, just as your presence is," came the soft reply, and Dorian shifted back into the bed, arms still wrapped around Solas. Solas didn't object, fingers staying in Dorian's hair, allowing the man to snuggle up to him, pull the blankets over them, and stroking his fingers back and forth along the small of his back.
"Sleep well, ma vhenan," Solas breathed a few minutes later, knowing that the man slept, and struggling to find that sleep for himself. Warm, comfortable… why was it so hard?