work it smoochie!


happy late birthday to @vulpes–vulpes


mage!Hawke saying “I am you” to Feynriel to make him trust them just has so much more weight when you headcanon Malcolm as an elf

Usually, it was Dorian who frequented the areas Bull would be found in.  The tavern. The tavern. Around the tavern. The tavern. Bull’s room.  

But tonight Dorian was playing recluse and Bull was finding himself antsy even with the company of his Chargers.  So, he found himself walking areas of Skyhold he had seldom if ever visited.  Hard stone stairs in tall hallways where each of his heavy footsteps echo’d with every step.  His horns, reaching out toward the wall on each side of his head, only just barely fit without him having to turn his head.  

There weren’t many people about at this hour, most gone to their quarters or off finding ways to forget about the damn end of the world for a night.  Candles were still lit for the few who meandered about.  Each of them that Bull passed giving him stares and then finding their pace quickening to get them away faster.  He didn’t quite blame them but fuck them anyway, he thought. 

Bull reached the end of stairwell, stretching his shoulders as if he had been cramped.  He looked one way then the other, unsure of where to actually find the ‘Vint.  He wasn’t even sure if he was in the right area.  Maybe he should look for Dorian’s room.  Then, he thought, he wasn’t even sure if Dorian had a room.  So much for his career as a spy.  He shook his head at himself and picked a direction. 

Suddenly a large black bird on the bannister crowed loud enough to wake the dead as he passed.  Bull flinched and swung toward the bird, making it take off into flight to escape him.  

“Kaffas!” came Dorian’s shout along with some more curses aimed at the noise.  Bull chuckled and followed the angry complaining.  Dorian was sitting in a large leather backed chair, lounging more like.  With a book in his lap, more tossed haphazardly around him on the floor.  He didn’t notice Bull approach. 

“Somebody should let the boss know we have a pest problem,” Bull said. 

Dorian paused in his reading but didn’t look up, “The pests are but pets of our lovely and gracious spymaster.  We should welcome them and appreciate all they offer us in the ways of worldly communication!”


The book snapped shut audibly and Dorian twisted in his chair to look up at the Bull with a suffering smile.  "Now you know what horrors I must live with.“

"Poor you.”  Dorian nodded.  "Why not go somewhere else?  A little more… quiet?“ Bull grinned and Dorian chuckled.  He ran a finger across his moustache then leaned further into his chair. 

"But its so warm and secluded here. My own little hideaway.”

“That you share with crows.”

Dorian’s face fell into a murderous scowl.  "Yes, my precious crows that are so dear to my heart.“  His smile appeared just as quickly, bright and full.  "But they also don’t care what happens here. Quite good neighbors in that respect.”

“Hm, that right?”  Bull stepped into the alcove, towering over Dorian in his chair.

“They’d never tell anybody these secrets,” Dorian smirked and put a hand to Bull’s wide hip, pulling him closer.  Bull complied, watching with sudden anticipation as Dorian leaned forward, leather creaking and buckles clinking as he did so.  He pressed warm dry lips to Bull’s bare stomach.  Bull smiled, less clothing had its advantages.

Dorian’s mouth lingered while his hands smoothed patterns against Bull’s back.  Slow and soft, teasing and quiet.  Bull ran a hand through Dorian’s hair, prompting Dorian to turn his face up, resting his chin against the roundest part of Bull’s stomach.  He smiled sweetly, with a genuine affection that he liked to hide away.  

Bull was suddenly wondering if it wouldn’t be a good idea to come find Dorian more often.  

Calum pretending to model as the two of you play around in the photo studio. “Work it smoochie!” you yell as he continues to strike a pose only to burst out into laughter remembering the reality tv marathon the two of you had on the bus a few nights back. “A dollar makes me holla honey boo boo child” he responds back in a southern accent causing you to drop your phone in a fit of giggles.