When he awoke in the morning, he found himself warm still, and Dorian's arms around him, his head on his chest. Carefully, Solas ran his fingers through his hair, and his head fell back to stare at the ceiling. The first traces of light were bouncing off the glass and walls of Skyhold, weaving stories across the weathered stone. How many others had laid where he was laying, looking at the same thing. He took in a deep breath, and the visions from the Fade, his journeys from the night before, swam before him.
Sleeping so close to a mage had made the Fade turbulent, more than normal. Dorian's own mind was wracked with fears, uncertainties, wants for his family, his homeland… Solas found it fascinating and distracting all at once. He had walked among the memories, seen Tevinter through his mind, his eyes and his heart. It was… eye-opening. Before, all that Solas had seen was through the minds of mostly his own people, long ago, and now—
Dorian stirred, drawing his mind back to the present.
"Look at how the morning fog makes the light dance to the tune of the morning mountain birds," Solas murmured, eyes back up and to the ceiling. Dorian shifted a little, eyes blinking to see what Solas referred to. "It moves across the stone as it has every day before, for as long as these walls have stood. That it will be there tomorrow, for us to see, is hope in a world gone mad."
"Hope?" Dorian wondered, finally finding his voice a moment later, but keeping it soft. His fingers danced gently across some skin that had been exposed at Solas's hip sometime in the night. "That light will continue to move across the stone long after we are gone, that madman defeated or not."
"Will it?" He wondered, fingers moving into his hair again. "If he succeeds, I severely doubt he will let such beauty to stand, even if the world somehow survives." He paused, and Dorian sat up a little, looking at him. He looked back, eyebrow raising. "And so, I relish in the small pleasures of this world while I still can."
"Is one of those pleasures waking up with the most handsome man in all of Thedas?"
The elf laughed, light. "It is one that I am not yet used to," he murmured, and Dorian leaned down to close the gap between them, kissing him warmly, but still softly like their first the night before. Their bodies pressed closer, and Solas ran his hands down the bare back of Dorian, who only responded with a small noise. The kiss continued, their bodies intertwining, well after the sun had risen.
"I hope you don't have anything particular planned for today," Dorian stated, lips moving to the elf's neck, fingers succeeding finally in removing his shirt.
"I am having trouble recalling if I did," Solas replied, fingers spreading as it moved against that tan skin, his chin tilting up at the man's tongue. His hips shifted a little, and Dorian noticed, hand gripping at his hip tightly, drawing in a breath.
"I can tell," he teased, deeply amused, biting at his neck lightly as he brought Solas's hips up and into his own. Solas shifted at the feeling of Dorian's length against his leg, and a rage of doubt swept through him.
A bang of a door hitting wood made them both jump. "Dorian! Get your things together, man, we—" The Inquisitor paused in the doorway, mouth half open. "We found some Venatori—figured you, ah…"
"Is that so?" Dorian said in a matter-of-fact tone, sitting up and letting the blanket fall off of them. He propped a leg up, arm across his knee, wiggling his nose and looking at the woman standing there with an amused expression. "Well, let's waste no time then."
"I…" She said, trailing off for a second, sharp eyes falling across Solas, whose head had fallen back, eyes closed, mouth moving silently in curses or prayers, she wasn't sure. Dorian's ruffled hair, both of their undone clothes… a thick fluster began moving up her from the neck up. "I can… just take someone else, no big deal right? Plenty more where those come from," she finished quietly, thumb jabbing back to out the door. "Hey, Solas. How's that research going?"
"Nowhere as ususal," he replied, hand raised in acknowledgement but not looking at her. "I would be happy to accompany you, lethallan."
"No… no hahren. You're clearly occupied," she said, and then grinned. He groaned a little, and Dorian glanced down at him, smiling as well.
"I think he means to say, 'please let's go kill things because it really gets my motor running.'"
"I said no such thing!" Solas said, sitting up a little as well, running a hand down his face and glaring at both of them.
"So… see you down at the gate in ten?" Lavellan wondered, eyebrows raised and grin not receding.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Dorian replied. "Just close the door behind you, would you? Best not to have everyone in the castle talking about this just yet." She made a face of determination and gave him a hearty salute before spinning out of the room, door closing behind her. The silence that followed was nearly damning. It ended with Dorian shifting, kissing Solas on the cheek very lightly. "If I was making you uncomfortable, Solas—"
"Its not—" He interrupted, head turning to kiss the man warmly, hand clutching his shoulder. "Its not that. Its… complicated. I'll work it out."
Dorian again made a small noise, hand on the elf's cheek. "We only have to do what you are comfortable with. I would never—"
"I know," came the quiet reply, and their foreheads pressed together, both taking in deep breaths. "We had people to kill, did we not?"
"I do enjoy that, yes," Dorian replied after a moment, and then he was up and over to his wardrobe, again pulling out his armour. Solas shifted to the side of the bed, tying closed his shirt before standing. He had to retie his breeches as well, and wonder when exactly Dorian had undone them. A sly fellow, apparently.
"I will meet you there," he said, head tilting slightly as he watched Dorian strap himself into that leather armour of his.
Dorian turned a little, eyes on him, and then fully. His fingers paused as he crossed the space between them, leaning down to kiss him warmly, not hesitating now, but body close to his. "Do try to contain your joy," he murmured with a smirk, and turned back to continue his work.
Solas's ears were pink, but then he had slipped away out into the hallway, doing his best to avoid the gaze of anyone he might meet. It was the absolute last thing he needed: to be assaulted everywhere he turned with servants whispering to each other, Sister Nightingale to wonder about his attentions or…
He shook his head clear. He had more important things to worry about than idle gossip. Nevertheless it made him wonder: did he care if people knew? He wasn't sure if there was even anything to truly know about just yet.
He felt better when his hands wrapped around the firm wood of his staff and he was leaning against the stone of Skyhold's gates, watching the surgeon attend to his patients. He spotted Cole sitting nearby, and he wore a small smirk. Their eyes met, and then Cole was beside him, head tilted up a little.
"I like how the light dances too," he said, voice slightly teasing, and Solas made an affronted noise, turning to him, but only finding receding laughter.