Chapter Text
They’d never promised not to sleep with other people.
Dorian was trying to remember that, but it was hard when the hurt was thick as bile in his throat. Funny how the whiskey he’d been downing for the last half hour hadn’t managed to cut through it in the slightest. “Perhaps I should have grabbed the wine…” At least that way drowning his sorrows would have tasted better.
Seeing Bull with the Inquisitor had been a kick to the face, but part of him had understood. Sylaera Lavellan was quite the woman, and being pulled to her was almost inevitable if you were an enjoyer of female flesh. Even Blackwall was constantly making cow eyes at her. Everyone loved the lady, so he hadn’t truly begrudged his lover that rendezvous.
It had been harder when he caught the Qunari with Josephine. The Chantry lay sister had been even harder, but he supposed it was right there in her title. That time with the new quartermaster had been almost unbearable – the lad was green as grass and couldn’t even say hello without stuttering.
He’d put up with it all because they’d never promised, but each discovery stayed with him, burning in his gut like acid. The knowledge that the lummox likely had even more paramours that he’d ever know about haunted him. When he’d casually brought up the encounters to Bull, the great horned ox hadn’t even bothered to look ashamed; he’d simply shrugged and said that while Dorian was his kadan, other people sometimes needed what he could give.
’What about what I need?’, he’d wanted to ask, biting back the words only through force of habit. He was used to this sort of thing, of course. Really, this relationship with Bull exemplified every one he’d had in Tevinter. Fidelity was something two men could never really promise each other, so… you learned to settle. Over and over and over, Dorian had settled.
How foolish of him to think it would be different here.
The latest blow was one he wasn’t sure he could recover from. Walking into his room to find his lover in HIS bed, fucking one of the male servants had been an indescribable experience; he only marveled he hadn’t set anything or anyone on fire. Bull hadn’t even had the decency to stop – he’d actually waved Dorian in, as if expecting the mage to join in on the frolicking. The frolicking he wanted no part of.
The frolicking happening in his own fucking bed without him.
Snarling at the thought, Dorian hurled his glass into the semi-darkness that surrounded him. When it smashed against the wall, he felt a moment’s vicious satisfaction. Then he realized that he’d have to start drinking straight from the bottle, like one of the southern barbarians he was surrounded by. Well, life went on, one supposed.
And it didn’t stop him from taking another swallow of harsh liquor, so the problem wasn’t even that dire. He still pulled a face when he did though, doing his best not to cough and splutter. Whiskey was usually not his drink of choice, and choking it down was harder than he’d thought it would be. Not that thinking had been involved when he grabbed hold of a bottle of the stuff and stalked here, to his private sanctuary. He was getting better at drinking it – at least now he could swallow almost a whole mouthful without wanting to die.
“Maker’s breath, what is this place?”
The voice made Dorian growl before he placed it – he was in no mood to talk to anyone. When he realized it belonged to Cullen, he made a conscious effort to tone down his rage. The Commander deserved better than his cattiness, so he’d try to shoo the man without getting too nasty.
“This is going to be the arcane library once my collection arrives from Tevinter. Assuming my family will actually send it, anyway. I may have to stoop to begging books from other families – my mother will die from the shame of it.” As he was speaking, Cullen rounded the corner and entered the room, looking around with trepidation on his face; Dorian couldn’t really blame him for that. Small and out of the way, the place was filled with dust, mostly empty shelves, a huge book he couldn’t read and a ghostly light he associated with veilfire. After stumbling upon it quite by accident, he’d claimed it as his own. Abandoning the largely useless library upstairs, he’d taken to devoting his time to this room, sorting through the books to gauge their usefulness; most got sent upstairs straightaway. The dust was something he worked around and addressed only as needed, because someone as fabulous as he did not spend their time cleaning.
“I’d love to give you a tour, Commander, but I’m not quite up to entertaining. Feel free to grab a book and then show yourself out.” After saluting the blond with the bottle in his hand, he took a swig and turned away, hoping the other would just leave. Unfortunately, it was his day to be disappointed.
“Dorian? I didn’t think to find you here. Or a room, for that matter. A tour is certainly unnecessary, as I think I can see most of it right now.”
Normally, the man’s voice was quite pleasant, and teasing the oh-so stiff and proper Cullen was something he adored. They even played chess together, when the Inquisitor wasn’t leading him around by his cock. But just then, all he wanted was for the man to be gone so he could wallow in his misery, so he did what he hadn’t wanted to do.
He got nasty.
“If you’re looking for lady Lavellan, you won’t find her here. You should try checking beds; never know which one she’ll turn up in. I believe yesterday she was spending some time with Sera, but I’m sure she’s moved on by now… in the barn with Blackwall, perhaps?”
The silence was nearly deafening, and if Dorian were just a little less drunk, he would have hurried to apologize and worked to mend fences. Instead, he let the comment stand, hoping that the other man would leave… but he heard no footsteps, which meant the Commander was still at his back – at his back and furious at the insult to his lady, no doubt. Fasta vass, he shouldn’t have said that; Cullen might not even know, and if he did… Dorian knew what it was like to have it pointed out and rubbed in his face.
“Cullen, I-“
He’d turned, shoulders slumped as he tried to think of something to say that would make it better but still get the damned man to go away. The sight of his friend, however, made him stop in his tracks. Like him, the blonde had a bottle clutched in his right hand – his knuckles were white and his hand shaking slightly, and Dorian feared the glass wouldn’t hold up much longer under such an intense grip. He looked absolutely furious as predicted, anger hot in his honey brown eyes, nostrils flared and rimmed with white. There was tension in every line of his body, and his left hand was groping for the sword he usually wore at his side; Dorian had noted before that he often held onto the hilt whenever he was feeling unsure, as if the feel of it under his fingers was soothing.
Just then, he was very, very glad the other man didn’t have it to hold onto, as he liked his head where it was.
When Cullen finally spoke, it was low and with great feeling… and anger. “You think I don’t know? She certainly thinks me stupid enough not to realize. Cooing at me and batting her lashes, she pretends to see only me...” Suddenly their gazes clashed, and the mage felt his breath leave his lungs with astonishing swiftness. He’d never seen the Commander this upset, this distraught, this… passionate. It spoke to his Tevinter sensibilities, but he brought those to heel quickly. Or he tried to, at least. “I may not have a host of spies at my beck and call like Leliana, but I command the forces of the Inquisition. Do you truly believe I do not have eyes and ears everywhere in Skyhold? While they are meant to prevent assassinations and curb some of the ridiculous games the visiting dignitaries get up to, they report everything they see. Everything. I have known since the beginning that I am one of many; I am not special to her.”
Dorian wondered if it was the first time he’d made the admission out loud. All the strength drained from his body and he staggered forward, almost dropping the bottle. The mage stepped forward as if to help, but the other man waved away, practically falling into one of the chairs Dorian had moved here. “I am… alright. It is simply…” Giving a growl that put Dorian’s to shame, he kicked the desk hard enough to make the book laid open on it shiver; the mage only just resisted the urge to scold him for his carelessness. The blond took a gulp of the liquor he’d brought and promptly shuddered, his face screwing up into an expression of absolute disgust before he started coughing. The fit lasted almost as long as Dorian’s had when he’d taken his first pull of whiskey.
“By the Maker… that’s terrible.” His voice sounded weak and hoarse, and he looked like he’d just swallowed bronto piss… but he still took another large gulp, gagging on whatever it was he was drinking.
“I don’t know what that is, but perhaps you should set it aside. Gagging is almost never a good sign, Commander.” Any other time he would have elaborated to finish the joke, but he simply didn’t have it in him that night.
“No. I’m drinking this, and then I’m going to smash the bottle before I go back and grab another mystery beverage. Once I finish that swill, the bottle will join the first and I might get another.”
Confused, Dorian’s slightly tipsy mind tried to work it out; when he finally did, he couldn’t help the smirk that curled his lips upward.
“Oh, you sly dog you. I’d forgotten all about that ridiculous collection of hers – what use could all those bottles ever have? Even the Wardens abandoned them. The room she keeps them in is just down the hall, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I was there getting this when I heard glass shatter. I felt it was my duty to investigate.” Pausing, the blond looked down at his bottle, consternation on his face. “I should… take this back. Such petty actions are unworthy of me.”
“Nonsense. I applaud your genius, Commander! Very devious of you; as a scary Tevinter mage, I approve whole-heartedly. If it wouldn’t tip her off, I’d set all the bottles on fire for you. She’d know it was me though, and she is, quite frankly, scarier than you.”
Cullen was smiling just a little, and Dorian was glad of it. “I suppose she is at that. I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble for my sake, or I would ask you to set all the bottles on fire. It would be most satisfying to watch them burn.”
“Ooh, he likes fire now. Interesting.” Pausing only to take another swallow of his drink, he eyed the other man curiously. “I know why I came here to drink myself into a stupor. Bull is absolutely terrible at monogamy – even worse than your lady. What did she do to finally provoke the even-tempered Templar?”
“Former Templar.” Cullen reminded him absently, eyes on Dorian as the mage perched on the edge of the desk in front of him. “Which is why I would feel only a little badly at asking you to use magic to help me achieve my revenge. And I…” Pain throbbed in those usually warm eyes, and then he averted his gave. “I would not speak of it, if you don’t mind.” Lavellan didn’t know what she had in him, Dorian realized, watching as the Commander chugged the liquor in his bottle, grimacing all the while.
“She is a fool.” When he realized he’d spoken aloud, he was the one to look away from Cullen’s puzzled expression, smoothing his mustache in a show of nerves. “The Inquisitor, I mean. For all your delightfully awkward shyness, you are a good man – you’ve been good to her. She has you completely – your undivided attention, your heart – no, your very soul – are in her hands, and she doesn’t see it for the marvelous gift that is.” He couldn’t keep the longing out of his voice; he’d dreamed of someone looking at him the way Cullen looked at the Inquisitor. All he’d ever wanted was a man that wanted him above all others, a man who would let nothing stand in the way of their love. Cullen gave that to Lavellan despite not getting the same returned. It was what he was trying to give to Bull, only the big idiot didn’t seem to realize it.
“If that is true… then Iron Bull is as well.” When Dorian looked back to him, eyebrows raised, the other man’s cheeks were pink. The dark-haired man couldn’t help but grin; Cullen always got embarrassed whenever he thought of Dorian’s preferences. Not in a horrible bigoted way, but in an adorable, awkward way that reminded him of a puppy that was all paws. A way that certainly did not make Dorian want to educate him in all the ways men could give each other pleasure. No, not in the slightest. “I know you two are, ah, involved, and I know he does not value that the way he should. I…” Floundering a moment, the Commander seemed at a loss for words. “If I had someone willing to choose me before anyone else, instead of anyone else, I would not throw it away so easily.”
“Then why do neither of us leave? We are both spectacular men, worthy of love and affection. We should be showered with attention with men – and women – vying for us. We deserve lovers who will, as you say, choose us. So why do we settle?”
“Because it’s easier. It hurts – Maker does it hurt – but it’s better than sleeping alone in my bed every night. At least she’s there sometimes.”
“And sometimes is enough.” Laughing bitterly, Dorian shook his head then looked up at the ceiling. “I suppose we understand each other better than our lovers ever will. I tell myself that sometimes is enough, that it’s enough to have a sliver of his affection… but it isn’t. You do the same for her, and we watch as they give other people the parts of them that should be ours. We are pathetic specimens, my friend. Love has gotten the better of us, and we didn’t even try to put up a fight.” Carefully, decisively, he set down his bottle and slid from his perch. Though he didn’t think he was that drunk, he swayed just a moment on his feet before standing tall.
“Where are you going?” Cullen asked quickly, frowning as he stood as well. “I… thought I wanted to drink alone, but… I find I do not mind your company just now.”
The slight emphasis on ‘your’ had Dorian thinking all kinds of wicked, naughty things; things he had no right to think while claiming his heart belonged to Bull. “I’m not going anywhere, Commander. I have simply decided to help you in your quest for revenge. Between the two of us, we can make quite the dent in that silly collection.”
And they did.
Dorian lost track of how long they stayed there in that small room, drinking themselves into a blissful state of being. There was an alarming number of bottles littering the floor – alarming until one remembered none of them had been completely full to begin with. That downgraded alarming into worrying. Not that either of them were concerned, of course.
Having given up on chairs when neither one could stay on them, they were on the floor side-by-side, leaning against the shelves behind them and each other. They’d passed the maudlin part of the evening and were beyond even the giggles; they’d now settled into philosophy. Very deep and very meaningful bullshit was spewing forth, and Dorian couldn’t even really keep track of what they were talking about.
“So I said… I said… Mer’dith, ‘s wrong.” Cullen was still mostly coherent, his slurring coming and going in fits. “Can’t annul… whole Circle. An’ers wasn’ even in th’ Circle. ‘S the truth. Maker’s hones’ truth. ‘S how I started… started thinkin’.”
“Thinking what, exactly?” Where the Commander slurred, Dorian was being very, very careful to enunciate properly. So much so, in fact, that he was being overly careful and would have sounded just as ridiculous to anyone listening in. Thankfully, they were still blessedly alone.
Cullen didn’t answer, and it seemed almost like he’d gotten stuck, gazing in front of him with slightly glazed eyes. Wanting to know how the story ended, Dorian nudged his friend’s shoulder with his own; the move had a bit too much gusto behind it, and he ended up sliding on the floor until his head rested on Cullen’s shoulder. It seemed like too much work to scoot back to his previous place to lift it, so he stayed there. Besides, the man smelled nice – like leather and metal, a hint of the polish he used on his sword, and something else that was all him. It was wonderful, really.
Either the nudge or the new weight on his shoulder started Cullen back up again, and he took a last swig from the bottle in his hand before letting it clatter to the floor. “Started thinkin’ ‘bout mages as people. There were little ones an’ old ones. So afraid… in their eyes. Fear. Didn’ like it. Realizzzed they were always ‘fraid in that Circle. Didn’ like that either. ‘S why things changed when I was Knight-C’mmander. I wanted- tha’s very distracting.” Looking down at Dorian with a mild frown, he shook his head. “Can’t think with that goin’ on.”
Maybe it was, but Dorian couldn’t find it in him to stop. Halfway through Cullen’s mulling over the past, he’d turned his head and began to nuzzle the Commander’s neck. His skin was warm, and the mage could catch his scent even better that way. In his fuzzy mind, all he really knew was that Cullen smelled and felt good. Turning his body more fully into the other man, he leaned harder into him, burying his face in the other’s neck. “Mmm. You smell delicious.” Part of him, a small and quiet part, insisted that this was not a good idea. He couldn’t remember why that was though, so that voice was quickly drowned out in a sea of want.
“Delicious?” The Commander asked, sounding as fuzzy as Dorian felt. “Not shure ‘bout that. Sylaera never said-“
Annoyed by the mention of the woman who got to share Cullen’s bed and didn’t appreciate that fact at all, Dorian acted without thinking. His lips parted and he went to deliver a little flick to teach the man a lesson; his tongue had a will of its own. It followed the strong line of Cullen’s neck all the way up to just under his ear, and Dorian could feel muscles working under the wet touch. Before he could think better of it, he closed his mouth around the Commander’s earlobe and sucked gently, tongue happily teasing and tasting. Emboldened by the soft moan he heard, he nipped the soft flesh before pulling away and pressing his mouth to Cullen’s ear to give a husky whisper. “As I thought… delicious.”
The other man was tense, hands clenched into fists in his lap. Suddenly, all at once, Dorian remembered why this was a bad idea. Cullen was not gay. Cullen was not gay and had given no indication that he dipped his wick into anything other than women. Fuck.. He was a fool, and he’d probably just lost the only real friend he’d made here. Pulling away quickly, like Cullen was a hot brick, he fumbled for words in the silence. He couldn’t even look at the other man, and kept his eyes fixed on his own lap. “Cullen, I beg your forg-“
Fingers were in his hair before he realized the other man was reaching for him, tangling in the short dark locks. Fingers that tugged insistently, using their hold to force Dorian to meet Cullen’s gaze… and what he saw on the man’s face made his breath catch. There was that intensity again, that passion… and it didn’t seem sparked by anger this time. Cullen’s pupils were dilated, his breath coming a bit faster and heavier than usual; his lips were parted slightly, and Dorian felt a fluttering in his stomach as those lips came closer.
This couldn’t be happening; there was no way this was happening, even if they were both completely addled by alcohol.
Before he could stop the other man, joke about how it was time for both of them to crawl into bed – separate beds, mind – Cullen’s mouth met his in a hard, demanding kiss. Dorian didn’t even have time to process that fact before Cullen’s tongue surged forward, delving into his mouth. There, the Commander laid siege to Dorian’s senses until the mage was sure he was drowning in the other man. His scent filled Dorian’s nostrils and his hand was still buried in Dorian’s hair, tugging with just the right amount of force. And his tongue, Maker his tongue. It plundered forth, probing and seeking as if he meant to learn Dorian’s mouth and then master it; he was doing a damned fine job of it already, and the mage melted under the attention, giving a soft moan of pleasure.
Sensing the his friend wasn’t going to pull away, Cullen seemed to calm a little – while he still dominated the kiss, it wasn’t quite as hard, quite as needy. His tongue teasingly flicked across the inside of one cheek, then the other before it met with Dorian’s, curling around it artfully. He tasted of the various alcohols they’d been imbibing, Dorian thought, mind spinning dizzily. And while they’d been revolting coming out of the bottle, when overlaid with the flavor of Cullen, the combined taste was absolutely divine. Time ceased to matter, and he had no idea how long the other man’s tongue danced with his own. It had been forever, but not long enough when the Commander began to pull away; Dorian heard himself whimper in a most embarrassing manner, his hand clutching at the other’s shirt. Cullen gave a chuckle against his lips that went straight to his already hardening cock, and he couldn’t help but try to press closer… which was when he finally registered the change in their position.
Somehow, while kissing Dorian senseless, the former Templar had turned to face him, then lowered him to the floor without him noticing. One hand was clutching Dorian’s hip with enough force to bruise while the other remained in his hair – no longer tugging, Cullen’s fingers instead ran almost idly through the black strands. He was hovering over the mage, their bodies not quite touching, only their hands and mouths connecting them. After that unmanly whimper, the Commander delivered a rather more chaste kiss, one that almost made Dorian growl… until Cullen began to nibble gently on his lower lip, loosening the grip on his hip to deliver soothing strokes instead.
Once he heard Dorian give a soft sigh and the mage’s body relaxed, he broke the kiss entirely, resting his forehead against Dorian’s. Both were gasping softly, breath mingling as Dorian brushed his nose over Cullen’s in an almost affectionate gesture. “’M not the only one who tastes delicious.” The slur was almost entirely gone, replaced by a rumbling purr that made Dorian’s bones melt and had him almost painfully hard. With thinking no longer part of the equation and instinct taking over, the black-haired man rolled his hips upward, nearly desperate to know if the blond was as effected as he.
“Fuck…” The word was nearly a hiss, drawn forward involuntarily by the heavy feel of the Commander’s arousal against his thigh; his own was now pressed against Cullen’s leg as well. He heard the other man give an answering oath, and then the blonde shifted slightly – Dorian almost made a mess of his smalls when Cullen brought their erections together. His hand was gripping Dorian’s hip tightly again, the fingers once more tugging his hair, tipping Dorian’s head back. There was an urgency to his movements as he ground his cock against Dorian’s, like he couldn’t get enough – and the mage definitely agreed with him there, hips rotating in an answering movement.
Groaning low in his throat, Cullen fastened his mouth to Dorian’s flesh just above the collar bone, biting down with a growl before sucking hard. It would leave a mark, Dorian knew, but he couldn’t quite recall why that would be a bad thing. No, he was too busy moaning and arching up into Cullen’s body, needing more, needing him closer, needing both of their clothes to go away…
And then reality intruded with a bang.
One that was quite literal – the sound of something heavy crashing to the floor just outside the room made both men freeze, eyes wide.
“By the stones of my Ancesters! Why do we have to move this all to the vault tonight?” Dorian recognized the voice as belonging to one of the dwarven workmen, and it was dangerously close to them.
“You know how the Inquisitor is.” Another dwarf, one who didn’t sound quite as frustrated as the first. “Vault’s finally done, and she wants all her trinkets there quickly. I mean no disrespect, mind you, but the woman is practically a magpie. She hoards everything, and she likes to look it all over as often as possible. So help me pick up this blasted chest so we can get it put away – only fifty more after this, and then we can sleep.”
He couldn’t hear the first dwarf’s muttered reply over the pounding of his heart in his ears, but he would wager it mostly amounted to a lot of swearing. Neither he nor Cullen had yet moved; hesitantly, he unclenched his fist, letting go of the blonde’s shirt to press his palm to his heart. The Commander’s heart raced as fast as his own, but the look on his face was completely indecipherable.
The voices of the dwarves moved away, but still, he and Cullen were frozen. Seconds, minutes, years ticked by as sudden sobriety washed over the pair, forcing them to come to terms with what they’d been doing. Finally, expression still blank, Cullen released his hold on Dorian and eased himself away from the mage, until he was sitting on the stone floor once more. Cold and uncertain, Dorian sat up as well, clearing his throat and smoothing his mustache as he searched for words. Something flippant and light, something that would make this alright between them; he truly didn’t want to lose the man’s companionship. Not over this – not because of a drunken escapade when they were both lonely and hurting.
He couldn’t think of anything to say, however, and the silence stretched on and on, until Cullen finally cleared his throat. Studiously not looking at Dorian, he started to gather up the empty bottles as he spoke. “I… I am sorry, Dorian. I don’t know what came over me. I… I should put these back and return to my tower.”
“What happened to smashing them?” Damnation, he sounded hurt and jealous, which was not going to help matters at all.
“I… That is… She…” Cullen stopped and finally looked at Dorian, his eyes a bit wider than normal. “She would notice, and there would be questions… I…” Swallowing hard, he looked away, shoulders hunched. “I would not have her learn of this, or that you aided me in the smashing. It is… better if I return them.”
“I see.” Trying very hard to mask his feelings without turning nasty, Dorian helped in the effort, locating a few bottles that had rolled under the desk. “Then once the bottles are returned, this never happened.” If it wasn’t for the hard edge to his voice, the sentence would have sounded sensible and been the best way to start mending the damage.
As it was, Dorian was definitely showing his hand.
“Dorian I did not mean… I would not lose…” The Commander’s flustered attempt at speech helped soothe some of the hurt; he was adorable, and very much out of his element. “You are important to me; our friendship… means a great deal.” Ah, friendship. With that, Cullen was very clearly drawing his boundaries. “I would not lose that. I…”
“It’s alright, I understand.” Swallowing the anger that rose from embarrassment, Dorian flashed him a winning smile. “I apologize for being so fabulous and for not warning you that drunk men throw themselves at me constantly.” Striking a pose and smoothing his mustache again, he did his best to smirk. “It is a burden I accept gracefully enough, so think nothing of it, Cullen. When the morning breaks and the last of the alcohol is out of your system, you’ll no longer be under my wicked spell, I promise you.”
The teasing seemed to make Cullen feel better, for the tension drained from his frame, and he was able to smile back. “Thank you, Dorian. Here, if you will hand those bottles over-“
“I could help put them away, you know.”
“Do you know the order they go in? She’s very particular with her collections.”
“I must confess to ignorance in this matter. Here you are – now go get rid of the evidence of your naughty attempt at vengeance.”
Cullen flushed deeply, and Dorian cursed himself for his choice of words… but he also let them stand. Loading the Commander up with the bottles he’d found, he stepped back and nodded. There. Now Cullen could put them back, and everything would be back to the way it was before the blond had stumbled into his sanctuary. They wouldn’t speak of this night, and they would resume their friendship, and play chess when the Inquisitor wasn’t leading Cullen around by his cock.
“Thank you, Dorian.” Cullen gave the slightest bow and headed for the door, but paused before leaving entirely. When he looked over his shoulder, he didn’t quite look at Dorian, and he seemed nervous again. “I… if…” Pausing, the blond took a deep breath and soldiered forward. “If tomorrow finds Bull and Sylaera otherwise occupied… I would very much like to spend the time in your company again. I will meet you here if that is the case?”
Absolutely stumped, Dorian stared and blinked several times before clearing his throat. “If that’s what you want, I shall happily oblige. I might be able to manage getting a chessboard here, if you’d like.”
“That sounds pleasant. I will bring something to drink that tastes better than… whatever it was we ingested tonight.”
“Probably a good idea – I’m not sure how either of us managed not to vomit. I will see you tomorrow night, Cullen. If Bull and the Inquisitor are engaged elsewhere, of course.”
“Of course. … Good night, Dorian.”
“Good night, Commander.” Watching as Cullen left, Dorian ran a hand through his hair, wondering what exactly they were doing. Did Cullen want… more? Was that why he wanted to come back? No, no; they were just two men who understood each other very well. If he could just keep his passionate Tevinter inclinations in check, they would simply play chess and commiserate, and their friendship would be harmed no further.
As his hand drifted down to his neck, brushing over the mark Cullen had left on his skin, Dorian really thought about Bull for the first time since the encounter. The Qunari would notice, and it would undermine all his attempts to gain Bull’s loyalty and undivided attention… and part of him didn’t care.
“Fuck.”