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Corypheus had been dead for four months.
At this point, Dorian was just putting off his return to Tevinter. He had all the excuses in the world—travel across the Waking Sea was expensive this season, the Inquisitor needed his support—but he knew they were nonsense. The Inquisitor would give him a ship if he asked (he wouldn't), and though the loss of Solas, particularly sans explanation, had hurt her, she was hardly wallowing in sorrow. Mostly, she had thrown herself into research, a coping method he could certainly get behind.
He reread the letter from Maevaris, detailing her plans for a new push in the Magisterium (What do you think of the name "Lucerni"? Bringing light to an Imperium long dark?) and how she could really use his support (You're a bit infamous, but your work with the Inquisition is well known. We could use that, Dorian.)
It was the right thing to do, and he knew it. But it was hard to say goodbye to some of the best friends he'd ever had.
Voices floated up from down below. "Who did these paintings?" The voice was unfamiliar, Ferelden-accented, if a bit different than Cullen's, and with a warmth and richness that made Dorian perk up in immediate interest.
He peered down over the railing.
The Inquisitor was there with two armored strangers and Sister Nightingale. The tall, pale, dark-haired man seemed to be the one who had spoken, as the Inquisitor was addressing him as she explained that they were frescoes done by a dear friend.
The other man, an elf with dark skin and light hair, was curiously looking around, eventually tilting his head up to spot Dorian where he was eavesdropping. He smirked and waved with a casual tilt of his fingers. It was somehow extremely sexual.
The others all turned to look up as well, and Dorian immediately backed away, returning to his nook, face burning. He coughed as he opened a book at random and tried to still his racing thoughts. It had been. Well. A long time since he'd gotten the chance to sleep with someone. That was all.
He wondered who the guests were. They didn't exactly seem like ordinary nobles. Their armor had been just a little too well-worn.
Upon hearing their voices on the stairs, Dorian sat and did his best to appear nonchalant. He couldn't help glancing up as they passed. Sister Nightingale gave him a knowing smile, which he ignored. The human stranger was perhaps a few years older than he was, and handsome enough that Dorian felt almost threatened.
"Geoffrey," Leliana said. "Could we speak privately for a bit? I had some questions about your relationship with a mage calling himself Anders."
"Of course. Your Worship." He bowed respectfully, then turned to follow Sister Nightingale upstairs to the rookery.
The Inquisitor turned to the elf. "Zevran, would you like to continue our walk elsewhere?"
The elf, Zevran apparently, smiled, peering over her shoulder to meet Dorian's gaze. "No, that's quite alright. I think I'll wait. This is quite a nice library." His voice was rich, with the rolled Rs and cadence of Antiva.
She smiled. "I'm sure Dorian would be happy to help you browse. He practically lives up here, after all."
"Hm?" He pretended he hadn't been paying attention. "Did I hear my name?"
The Inquisitor was oblivious to the absolutely filthy expression on Zevran's face behind her. "Dorian, this is Zevran. He's here accompanying Ser Geoffrey." She leaned in close, her lips almost at his ear. "The Hero of Ferelden. But we're keeping it quiet for now."
Dorian started. "The…?" he asked breathlessly.
"The very same," Zevran said smugly. Or perhaps just proudly. He rested a hand on the Inquisitor's shoulder. "I'm sure you have more important things to do than attend to guests, Your Worship."
She sighed. "Sadly yes. I should get back to the nobles our ambassador has lined up to speak with me. Dorian, I've had one of the garden rooms prepared for them. Could you please escort them when Ser Geoffrey is finished with Leliana?"
On another day, Dorian might have asked her to have one of her many servants do such a thing, but he was dreadfully curious about the famed Hero of Ferelden, so he agreed.
Once she was gone, Zevran dropped any pretense of exploring the library. He leaned idly against the shelves, smirking at Dorian.
"Can I help you?" he asked, determined to pretend the lurid stare wasn't flustering him.
"Just enjoying the view," he answered. "I'm sure you're aware you're a nice one."
Dorian brushed his hand against his hair. "I thank you for noticing."
Maker, Dorian wondered how many skirts (and trousers) that smirk had charmed off. "Oh, I would have to be blind not to."
"How lucky for you that you have both eyes then." Dorian recrossed his legs, looking back down at his book.
"So, Tevinter magister, eh?"
Dorian sighed heavily. "Mage, not magister."
"Interesting!" Zevran said brightly. "I've never slept with a Tevinter mage before. Mostly I just kill them."
"Ironically," Dorian said, raising an eyebrow, "I've killed more than I've bedded myself. Though I have bedded a few."
"No qualms about killing your countrymen then?"
"Not really. I only kill the awful ones."
Zevran laughed, deepening the lines across his forehead. "I like you."
Dorian found himself smiling. "So," he said, changing the subject. "You're traveling with one of the most famous men in southern Thedas. There must be a story there."
"Oh, there is. I was hired to kill him, you see. And he decided I was just too handsome to kill, so I swore an oath to him instead."
"Wait…" Dorian tried to recall the details of the stories yelled by the criers. "Are you the Crow?" he asked in awe.
"Former Crow, but yes."
"Venhedis, so you fought the Archdemon?" Dorian kept his voice low, but the excitement was hard to contain. "What was that like?"
Zevran pondered the question, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Well, it was quite big. Breathed awful black fire. Mostly I teased its belly with sword and dagger, keeping its attention divided so my dear Warden could slice its throat."
"Now, Zev, you did more than that." Geoffrey was back, appearing from behind the far shelf. He put a hand around Zevran's waist, pulling him close to press a kiss to his temple.
Zevran smiled at the touch. It was a softer expression than the cocky smirk Dorian had been seeing. "Okay, I also helped keep darkspawn from flanking him."
"And Morrigan."
"Yes, and Morrigan."
"And then we slept for what, three days?"
Zevran laughed, his hand resting casually at the Warden's hip. "Something like that."
Dorian was transfixed. It was one thing to hear that people were more open in south. Or to read it. But to see it… Zevran was asking Geoffrey about Sister Nightingale's questions as he casually twined their fingers together, standing far too close for just good friends.
Something deep in Dorian's heart ached. He wanted that.
"So," Geoffrey said, turning to Dorian. "I do hope Zevran wasn't bothering you."
"As if I'm some naughty pet, mi amor," Zevran chided.
Geoffrey raised an eyebrow at him. Dorian unconsciously bit his lip. "As if you could ever control yourself around a pretty face."
"Ah, it's true." He held a hand to his forehead like a fainting damsel. "They are my only weakness."
Geoffrey laughed and shook his head. "No, love, you have many others." He ticked them off on his fingers as he listed. "Ladies' bosoms, for one. A fine ass. Strong noses…"
Zevran glanced at Dorian out of the corner of his eye, purposely focusing on Dorian's nose before letting his gaze drift down to the curve of his hip. He winked, smirked.
Geoffrey's gaze had followed Zevran's. He had absolutely striking eyes, so pale blue they were almost white. Yet despite their cool color, there was a definite heat there. "So, Dorian, was it? Are you seeing anyone at the moment?"
"I." Dorian blinked in confusion. "Excuse me?"
"You know," Zevran said, rolling his hand at the wrist. "Romantically involved. In an exclusive partnership. Anything like that."
A blush was creeping up his cheeks. "Ah, no, nothing like that."
Geoffrey seemed genuinely surprised. "Really?" But then a pleased smile found his lips, his eyes half-closing. "Well then, care to join us in our quarters for a spell?"
"Both of you?" Dorian breathed.
Zevran's hand came down on his bare shoulder, his face moving in close to his ear. "Unless that is a problem?" he asked in a low purr.
Suddenly that blush was moving decidedly southward. "No problem here," he said weakly.
Geoffrey flashed him a grin. One of his canines was slightly crooked. "Then what are we waiting for?"
--
The room was one of the nicer guest suites, with a large bed and dresser, and two windows overlooking the mountains. Normally, Dorian would be critiquing the austere design choices (surely Josephine didn't have such bland taste?), but he was distracted by Zevran making quick work of the buckles holding the plate mail to the Warden's torso. He had large, broad shoulders, and the sort of musculature that caused the tight shirt underneath the armor to cling to the lines of his chest.
Dorian licked his lips, only aware that his mouth was open after his breathing made a soft sound.
Zevran had noticed. His smirk was knowing as he leaned in and sucked on Geoffrey's neck, meeting Dorian's gaze as he did.
Geoffrey hummed as he reached back to hold Zevran's head there. "Mm, Zev, I'm ready to go too, but we need to lay down some ground rules."
Obligingly, Zevran stopped, shifting so his chin was propped on Geoffrey's shoulder.
"Alright," the Warden said, briefly rubbing his hands together. "First, if at any point you want things to stop, just say 'Sten'. We'll stop and ask what went wrong, then either pick up from a better place or stop altogether and have something to eat and drink. Second, is there anything that's a hard no for you? Mine are anything involving not-sexual body fluids. No blood, piss, etc."
Dorian made a face. "I'm not surprised to learn that some people involve piss in their sexual habits, but I agree with those being a no."
"Zevran?" Geoffrey prompted.
Zevran sighed like this sort of talk made him uncomfortable. "No demeaning names at me, magister."
Dorian frowned. "Mage," he corrected. "But agreed."
"I don't mind them," Geoffrey added casually, playing with Zevran's hair with one hand.
"Er, neither do I." Dorian cleared his throat.
Geoffrey raised an eyebrow. Clearly he was getting ideas. "So, next question. Bottom? Top? Switch?"
Dorian had filled both roles before, and there were things to like about each. "Switch," he decided.
Zevran grinned, his fingers creeping around to press against the front of Geoffrey's throat. "Then what if we ganged up on this big, bad Warden, hm? He'd like that, wouldn't you?" He purred the last bit against Geoffrey's ear. That white skin did nothing to hide the blood that rushed to his cheeks as he curved his neck back against the touch. "Come now, my dear Warden," Zevran whispered, his fingers sliding up to rest against pink flushed lips. "You know how to answer, don't you?"
"I would like that," Geoffrey murmured, opening his eyes to stare at Dorian. "What do you say, Dorian?"
Dorian swallowed, took a moment to find his words. "I think we're all wearing far too much clothing."
"Wait," Zevran said wickedly, pulling off the Warden's belt in a single serpentine motion. "Before we all get naked, why don't we play a bit? Geoffrey likes being naked while others are not, don't you, mi amor?"
Geoffrey had grown very quiet as Zevran began steering the scene, but the blush in his face and the growing erection in his pants spoke volumes.
"What are you waiting for then?" Zevran asked, sitting down on the bed and looking Geoffrey up and down. He waved for Dorian to join him. After they were both seated, Geoffrey began undressing in earnest, though slowly and deliberately stretching and bending in ways that made fabric inch up over pale skin, pink and white scars revealing themselves across smooth, thick muscles. They were not the showy sort of muscles that Dorian had seen among rich boys with time to train for looks, no, these muscles could pin both Dorian and Zevran down with ease. Though Dorian doubted Zevran would stay caught for long.
Despite this, Geoffrey seemed all to happy to let Zevran hold his reins, at least here. As his trousers fell easily to the floor, Dorian licked his lips, drinking in the sight. Maker, that ass was fantastic. All that the Warden had kept on was a braided leather necklace, decorated with small green glass beads. On his chest was a tattoo, slightly faded black ink stark against the white, even with the dusting of black hair. It showed a dagger piercing a glass vial, liquid dripping from the tip of the blade. Dorian guessed it had something to do with the man sitting beside him, and once again felt a pang of… envy? Nostalgia for something he'd never had, maybe?
But now was not the time to dwell, not when Zevran was resting an arm on his shoulder and smirking at the naked man before them. "Well? You should give our guest a proper welcome. You invited him after all. Make him feel at home."
"As you wish," Geoffrey purred, and dropped to his knees between Dorian's legs. He blinked suddenly in confusion, faced with the belts and clasps holding his pants on, clearly uncertain how to begin removing them.
Dorian blushed. "Er, yes, allow me." He fumbled around a bit awkwardly, but finally he freed himself from the leather.
Zevran chuckled against his ear, sending shivers down his spine. "I'd thought Orlesians had the most difficult pants, but apparently it's Tevinters."
Dorian would have retorted, but he was thoroughly distracted by a far too talented mouth and a positively lewd stare between his legs. Geoffrey didn't look away as he moved up and down, his stare two parts arousing and one part unnerving. Meanwhile, Zevran seemed to be amusing himself by figuring out how Dorian's clothing worked, sliding his fingers into gaps as he loosened belts and ties.
As Zevran managed to get his chest bared, Dorian was breathing heavily, eyelids fluttering. Zevran moved to his back, his fingertips ghosting over heated skin, coming up to brush his lips, dipping into his mouth, holding it open so Dorian was forced to gasp.
Maker, was this really happening? Dorian thought about the stories he'd heard, especially since coming south, of the heroism and daring of the man whose mouth was currently working his cock like he was fucking born to do it. On an impulse, Dorian grabbed his short hair, pulling slightly as he steered the Warden's actions, trusting that Zevran would tell him off if necessary. But rather than the elf telling him to stop, Geoffrey groaned, low and needy. Zevran made a small noise of approval, dragging all of his fingers down Dorian's back. Maker. Dorian pulled harder on Geoffrey's hair. "You like that, hm?" he murmured.
He got a groan and the tight grip of big, rough hands on his thighs in answer, pushing his legs farther apart so Geoffrey could go lower, his lips now almost touching the bone of Dorian's hip. Dorian was so close. He gasped and threw his head back over Zevran's shoulder, panting. "Almost," he breathed.
Geoffrey continued for another few seconds, then swallowed him down as deep as he could go as Dorian groaned, his whole body arching, the world turning for a moment to blissful white. He hardly even noticed that Geoffrey had swallowed, and was licking the last bits of come from his lips.
"Good boy," Zevran purred, curling his finger for Geoffrey to join them up on the bed.
"You alright, Dorian?" Geoffrey asked with a smile.
"Fine. Just catching my breath."
"Don't feel bad," Zevran teased. "He has a very talented mouth." He ruffled Geoffrey's hair affectionately. "Now, what next, do you think?" Though he'd asked the question, it was clear Zevran had plenty of ideas of his own. "I think we could have a nice roast, hm?"
Dorian was confused. Were they finished already?
"I don't think he's ever had the pleasure, Zev," Geoffrey said, eyeing Dorian's expression with a smile. Zevran gave his thigh a swat, and he stuck out his tongue before correcting himself. "Ser."
"Oh, you are impertinent today." The gleam in the elf's eye was nearly predatory. "But, to address our guest's confusion, have you ever seen how the Nevarrans roast a pig over a fire?" He mimed turning a wheel, then grinned. "Now, imagine our lovely Warden as the pig."
Dorian didn't have any trouble finding himself near at half-mast already. Zevran noticed and chuckled. "I think he's got it. Come here, Warden, let's give him a show to get him back up to task."
Zevran produced a bottle of oil from his belt, before letting it thump and clatter to the ground. "Toss me that pillow, will you?"
Dorian did so, then scooted back out of the way, sitting against the headboard. Zevran made himself comfortable, set the pillow between his legs and waved Geoffrey over, telling him to sit on it, legs open. "Back to me, now. There you go." He oiled one set of fingers, trailing them down Geoffrey's chest, briefly cupping his cock and balls and squeezing to get a little squirm. Zevran chuckled, though whether at Geoffrey or Dorian's suddenly dry mouth, Dorian didn't know.
But Zevran sooned moved his hand lower, dipping a finger into Geoffrey's ass, sliding it slowly back and forth. "Hmm, you're very tight. It must have been some time, no?"
"Mm, mostly it's been thighs, lately," Geoffrey said, reaching back to hold Zevran's head to his. "Travelling doesn't afford much of this lovely leisure time."
"Very true, very true. Well, all the better we have company, no? A true special occasion." Zevran's unoccupied hand, with had been idly rubbing Geoffrey's thigh, came up to tweak a pink nipple. Geoffrey bit his lip. "Oh, you don't want him to see how sensitive these are, hm?" He pinched it, then slipped a second finger in with the first. "What do you think? What if he just shoved it in here, just like this? You're a big, bad Warden, aren't you? Think you could take it?"
Geoffrey panted, nodded, then turned half-lidded eyes to Dorian. "What do you think?" he breathed.
Oh, Dorian was ready. He nodded and licked his lips.
Zevran smirked, opening up the laces at the front of his pants, easing them down. "Well then, back on your knees, mi amor, and give me your mouth. I admit, I did get rather lonely while you gave our guest such stellar service."
As Dorian got up onto his own knees, gripping that taut ass in his own hands, he asked, "Will he be alright? He won't be able to speak."
Geoffrey gave him a smile over his shoulder before pressing his mouth to his lover. Zevran stroked his hair, looking down with a fond smile. "Don't worry, Dorian, he knows three taps on my hip is the stop. Now, please, enjoy." He tossed Dorian the oil.
It was fragrant and very, very slick, perfect for the job. It warmed at Dorian's touch. He had a flash of wonder at how much it would warm inside him, but that wasn't the task at hand. He slicked himself and pressed inside. Kaffas, "tight" had not been a lie. And so hot, especially with the oil.
He pushed in slowly, not wanting to hurt him. But apparently he was too slow, because Geoffrey was pushing back against him, making a small noise of frustration around Zevran's cock. Zevran laughed. "He's not exactly fragile, magister. Follow your heart." He snorted. "Or in this case, follow your cock."
"Alright then." Dorian adjusted his grip, moving his hands up to Geoffrey's hips and started with quicker strokes. He knew he just had to adjust his angle just so…
Geoffrey lifted his head back, gasping as Dorian got it right. Zevran growled and grabbed his chin, pulling it back down. "Did I say you could stop?" he asked, sharply enough that Dorian felt a spike of actual fear for Geoffrey.
But Geoffrey whispered an apology and opened his mouth. This time Zevran held him in place while he moved in and out, giving Dorian a quick look as if to ask what was wrong. Dorian shook his head and returned to what he was doing. He'd played these sort of games before, but Zevran was an astonishingly good actor.
Zevran finished next, holding Geoffrey's mouth open while he came across his lips and tongue. Dorian wished he could see better, but just imagining it got him closer and closer to the edge. Geoffrey got up off his hands, thrusting back against Dorian harder, reaching back to grab his head and pull them closer together.
It didn't take long for Zevran to follow him, kissing him hot and heavy and wet, Maker the sounds alone—!
Dorian came again, realizing just a split second too late that he hadn't asked if it was alright if he did so inside. But Geoffrey pressed back against him harder, nails scraping Dorian's scalp, so he assumed everything was fine.
The only one so far unspent was the Warden himself, the head of his cock flushed a deep crimson.
Zevran had very much noticed. "Dorian, you said you were a switch, yes? Care to enjoy his cock as well?"
Dorian smirked, still breathing heavily out of his nose, now battling a wave of exhaustion. "I did get to sample everything else, didn't I?"
Zevran laughed. "That you did. How would you like him?"
"I-inside," Dorian said, licking his lips again. "On my back, I think. I don't think my legs can quite move well enough to ride." He laughed weakly.
Zevran rested his back against the headboard, setting the pillow back between his legs. "Come on then," he said with a smirk.
Dorian leaned against him and he felt those fingers against and then inside him, slick with that lovely oil. He'd have to ask where they had gotten it. Antiva probably. Perhaps Rivain?
Geoffrey leaned over him, lips inches from his. "Just tell me when you're ready, Dorian," he said.
It wasn't long before Dorian was too impatient to wait. "Do it."
"Mind a little rough?"
"Maker, rough would be great."
So with a grin, Geoffrey grabbed Dorian's legs and jolted them upward to straddle his hips, pushing inside with the same motion.
Dorian gasped and groaned, unused to being so easily tossed around. Mage he may be, but he was hardly a small man. Zevran's hands were a strange counterpoint, massaging his shoulders and stomach, dual sensations of relaxing and invigorating warring across his body, surging hot and cold at once.
"Remember, three taps," Zevran said softly, before pressing his fingers into Dorian's mouth. "Suck them," he growled, though with none of the harshness that had given Dorian pause before. Dorian groaned as he did so, softening his lips and tongue as Zevran moved them in counterpoint to Geoffrey's thrusts—as one entered, the other exited. It was absolutely maddening. And enrapturing.
Geoffrey grabbed his overspent cock, and Dorian gave a muffled cry. It was too much, too much—
Vishante kaffas, was he coming again?! His whole body trembled with pleasure, from tongue to toes, and for a moment he saw nothing but white. When he came back, Geoffrey's come was cooling on his stomach and he'd been lowered to the bed.
Geoffrey looked quite pleased with himself. "I've still got it," he said, waggling his eyebrows at Zevran, who laughed.
"When did I ever say you'd lost it, mi amor?"
"Speaking of losing." He looked down at Dorian, who blinked blearily up at him. "You still with us, Dorian?"
He nodded, smiling weakly as he did. "Andraste's tits, is this what sex is like for you all the time?" he breathed.
They looked at each other, then shrugged. "Not all the time, no," Geoffrey said.
"There are plenty of late night handjobs to get this one to sleep," Zevran said, poking his chin at Geoffrey, who chuckled.
"I could say the same for you." He looked back at Dorian. "But what did you mean? The length or…?"
"The…" Dorian waved his hand, trying to find the right words around the cotton in his head. "The fun. You just… both get so much enjoyment out of it."
Geoffrey looked startled. "Is sex not usually fun for you?" he asked.
Dorian thought about it. "There's not so much… joking around and laughing usually, no. It's more of an… itch scratched, I suppose." He drifted off, furrowing his brows at the pleading expression Geoffrey was giving Zevran over him.
"My dear Warden, we cannot just kidnap the Inquisition's people," Zevran said patiently. His hands threading in Dorian's hair felt so nice.
"He's not had fun sex until now, Zev!" Geoffrey pleaded. "I can't just leave that alone!"
"That doesn't mean you can just adopt him, mi amor."
"We can come up with some excuse. This silly title's got to be good for something." As he thought, he flopped down next to Dorian, looking him in the eye. "Please don't tell me you've never been cuddled before, because if you do I'm going to cry."
Dorian tried to recall if he ever had been, after sex.
Geoffrey, clearly taking his silence as a no, gasped in genuine horror, then curled around him, pulling him to his chest. "Oh Maker, you're just like Zevran," he whispered.
"Excuse me? I had plenty of fun sex before meeting you, my Warden." But he lay down and hugged Dorian from the other side. "But I admit, this affectionate cuddling you like was new when we began sleeping together. You are rather like an overly enthusiastic puppy."
Dorian, smothered in warmth and thoroughly exhausted, drifted off while Geoffrey tried to puzzle out his kidnapping plan. He'd explain about how he needed to return to Tevinter later. For the moment, he enjoyed the idea of being a true member of this relationship, with all the affection and love he could feel between them.
It was a nice fantasy, one that could get him through many a lonely night to come.