Trouble came to Skyhold, and her hair was red.

She had miles of it, too. Big, thick curls falling all around her shoulders—bare, in the low-cut gown she wore. Bull knew she was looking for him by the way her eyes scanned and scanned and then stopped entirely when they found him. He wasn't at all surprised that she showed up in the tavern that night—after whatever diplomatic visit she'd officially come for had been concluded—and quickly took a seat beside him. She was all smiles, all eyes, and some truly impressive tits nearly spilling out of her silk bodice.

"My cousin, she was here last year, and she spoke to me so highly of you…" A honeyed Orlesian voice, rather deep for a woman—melodic. The sort of voice that moaned beautifully—like Dorian's, though probably not quite as exciting as his moans. "I have been begging my family to support the Inquisition so that I may come here and meet you myself."

"Shameless" was probably the Common word; Qunlat didn't apply shame to sex, so the best Qunlat word would probably translate closer to "starving"—but with a specific context that the Common word didn't have.

Bull was going to have to be delicate about this. Not really for the sake of an Inquisition ally, but it seemed fair, when someone told you they'd been waiting for nearly a year with no idea of being rejected, to at least give them the courtesy of an explanation. Figuring out how to do that in a crowded tavern was the trick—Bull didn't want to go anywhere quieter with her. Rumors would fly, and she would probably take the invitation and run with it before he could get a word out.

So he was just working on gently removing the lady who had wrapped herself around his arm and pressed her breasts against him skin to skin…when Dorian showed up. Bull saw him first, had time to think Shit, and then watched Dorian catch sight of him with a voluptuous redhead hanging on him.

He knew what Dorian was thinking and already knew as soon as he got free of Milady Lust he was going to go explain this—but he hadn't quite been prepared for Dorian's reaction. Or, rather, his apparent total lack of one. Dorian stopped dead, and his face smoothed into something so perfectly blank it was jarring. For a long moment, Dorian didn't move a muscle. Finally, his lips twitched into the slightest smile, and he nodded to Bull, once…then turned and left.

Until that moment, Bull had really thought that they didn't need to discuss what they were. They were having sex; that was it. They discussed sexual limits. If they stopped having sex—and did he just think "if"?—the one calling it off would say so, and that would be that. What else was there to talk about?

Well, maybe when the person you're having sex with isn't a tamassran…

Maybe there were a few more things they needed to say.

Fuck it. Bull stood and led the little redhead outside—he didn't invite her, he just went, with her attached. Rumors were inconsequential at this point. Before she could grab his dick, he got her by the shoulders and very firmly and insistently apologized and explained that in the time since he'd fucked her cousin, he had met a wonderful man who now had all his attention, and he could not be unfaithful. He probably could have flowered it up a bit more—Orlesians, she'd eat it up if he told her it was forbidden love—but lying wasn't his job anymore, and Bull was trying to make a habit of honesty these days.

She wasn't happy—she was pretty damn disappointed, actually, but Bull couldn't really find it in himself to feel that bad, when he considered what Dorian was probably feeling right now.

As soon as she relented and returned, dejected, to the tavern, he headed for Dorian's room.

He knew where it was, though in all the time they'd been fucking, he'd only stopped by with a message or an invitation for later. They'd never spent time together in Dorian's room; all the supplies were in Bull's.

He knocked. Dorian opened the door—clothing loose, wine on his breath, but he was still steady. He hadn't had long enough to get really drunk. "Bull." He swallowed. "You're here."

Gently—"May I come in?"

Gray eyes glanced over him, up and down, uncertainty in them, but Dorian stepped back and held the door. He cleared his throat, shutting it behind Bull once he was inside. "I rather thought…"

"I know." Bull watched his face steadily, as Dorian struggled to look at him. "Looks like you were wrong, huh?"

"Perhaps." Dorian crossed his arms, but Bull caught the slight shake in his hands.

"Not your fault, though," he added softly. "The way it looked."

"Generous of you to admit it, I'm sure." Dorian eyes finally met his, searching. "Bull. You…that is, don't you want…"

"Dorian." He stepped closer, but not too close—didn't want to loom. And he smiled. "I want you."

An empty smile. "Yes, well. But in addition, surely…"

"No addition. Just you."

Dorian swallowed again, and his voice was thin, strained. "I'm…amenable to that."

Bull reached out and slowly gathered Dorian into his arms. Sweet guy. "Tell me what you want," he requested, softly.

He could feel Dorian relaxing in stages, like he was trying to find a stable path from one extreme to another. He licked those full lips and looked way up at Bull. "I think I'd like to be tied up. And…and then…do whatever you want."

That could mean rough and dirty or slow and teasing—in practice, it could mean a lot. But in essence, it meant Dorian had him. Cole had figured it out, in his creepy way, not that it was news to either of them. Dorian knew all along that when he was bound, he had Bull's undivided attention.

"Hey Dorian?" Bull began, a while later. He had to pull off the man's cock to speak, but his fingers kept steadily thrusting inside him.

"Mm? Ahhh…"

"When was the last time I fucked someone else?"

Brow furrowing, Dorian hesitated. Bull reached up and cupped almost his entire head with one hand, lifting gently to make Dorian look at him.

Dorian blinked a few times, quickly. "I…Well, I haven't exactly attempted to keep count of your partners…"

Bull slid up—fingers holding still inside the man for a moment—and he pressed one soft kiss to the middle of Dorian's forehead. "Two after the first time we fucked," he murmured, "when I didn't know there would be more. And none after the second time."

He felt Dorian's breath shudder. "I didn't exactly promise more at that point, either."

"No," Bull agreed. "But it didn't take you long to come back. And since then, I lock my door when you're away."

"I…never required you to…"

"It's what I wanted."

"Oh."

That was all they really said, but the tiny, hopeful smile in Dorian's eyes said the rest. And then when they finished, when Bull was holding him tight and spilling inside him, he heard Dorian whisper into his ear, "Amatus."

It wasn't too hard to guess what that meant, and from deep inside somewhere, Bull groaned the truth he suddenly knew with pure certainty—"Kadan."

Maxwell Trevelyan was not arrogant, but he could be a little vain. When their last day of travel back to Skyhold was slow to begin thanks to the Inquisitor fussing an inordinate amount of time over his hair, Dorian began to lose patience.

"Hey Dorian! Look! I think the boss is starting to take after you!"

He sighed, striding back to the remains of camp. "Inquisitor, you're wasting your efforts and our time. I would like to reach Skyhold before dark, so please let us be on our way."

"Hang on, hang on, I'm almost done…"

"None of this is going to survive a day's ride," Dorian pointed out—again.

"Well, you know…"

Bull was approaching them; Dorian could feel it. "Aww, poor guy. Let him be, Dorian. If the lady only loves him for his hair, you can't blame him."

"Perish the thought that he return looking like he's been camping," Dorian blandly agreed.

"But…we have been camping." Cole, from atop a rock. No one heeded him.

"You two go fuck yourselves," the revered Inquisitor grunted.

"We'd rather fuck each other, boss." This, with that same low chuckle that kept making Dorian smile when he hadn't meant to.

Dorian tsked. "Goodness, do you speak that way around your beloved Lady Montilyet?"

A sigh. "No, all right? I'm from a good family and so is she. I'm respectable, as befits my station."

"Oh," Dorian arched an eyebrow, giving Bull an exaggerated look. "I suppose I shouldn't have mentioned the salamander incident to her, then."

Trevelyan turned to stare at him, gaping. "You did not."

"Didn't I?" Dorian tapped his chin. "I was certain I did."

The Inquisitor spent a minute looking like a dying fish, then snapped, "I'm going to write to your father."

Bull shifted, only the slightest change in his weight, but Dorian noticed. It was sweet, but he didn't need protection.

"Oh? And tell him what?" He smiled sweetly. "'Hello, I'm the Inquisitor, I courted your son, but alas, my dick was too small for him'?" Bull snorted.

"How about, 'Your son is bedding a Tal-Vashoth mercenary'?"

"Oh, that? He knows that, I wrote him last month. I didn't include measurements, though—I don't have yours. You could add that, if you wished to surprise him. Bull's are…"

Loud throat clearing. "All right—come on you two. Sun's climbing the sky. Boss, your sweetheart won't get to admire your hair at all at this rate." The Inquisitor, pouting, finally started moving toward the horses. "And you," he purred in Dorian's ear, one big hand wrapping around his hip, "telling the family?"

"Well." Dorian felt his neck getting hot. "After what he put me through, I like to take advantage of my opportunities to give him heart trouble."

"Mmmmm." Bull kissed the shell of his ear, and Dorian found himself thinking about telling Trevelyan to go back to primping. There was a hidden clearing not far off… "When we get back, let's go over those measurements again."

"Yes?" Wonderful—now his face was flushing too. And he was smiling like a fool.

"Yeah. I'm going to make you count every inch as I sink…slowly…into you. After you measure my girth…with that pretty mouth of yours."

Dorian tried to snap, but his voice came out too breathy. "Really, I thought we had discussed dirty talk and horseback riding, and how never the twain shall meet."

Bull hummed as they both turned back to the waiting horses. "Was that the conversation about sharing the saddle, facing each other? And seeing who spilled in his trousers first?"

Dorian cleared his throat. "It…ended that way, yes."

"Ended that way in more than just talk too, didn't it?" Bull grinned. Dorian groaned.

"Dorian…"

He sighed. "I'll draw you a diagram, Cole. Just…not now."

The Inquisition's main army was back in Skyhold, and the Chargers were done their skirmish mission through the Arbor Wilds and would travel back today. In the meantime, they'd stopped at a small village and stayed at an inn rather than camp, as a reward for their hard work.

The proprietor was serving breakfast, and the mercenaries were gathering in the tavern—not nearly as crowded or rowdy as the night before. Bull had preparations to make, or he would still be in bed. The Inquisitor had given Dorian leave to accompany them. Bull wasn't eating yet so much as he was contemplating bringing food upstairs…but Dorian had said he'd be right down…

As if on cue, Dorian appeared, and the Chargers gave him a welcoming cheer. They really liked to celebrate victories and sex, and their captain and their tagalong mage had been rather obvious about their reasons for retiring early last night. They'd cheered Bull's arrival this morning, and now Dorian as he joined them in the tavern.

Bull felt himself grinning like a besotted fool.

Dorian had shaved, but that was about it. He wore no makeup, his hair had been roughly fixed with only his hands, and he was wearing a loose white shirt, trousers, and boots. The shirt was missing the top few buttons and hung open rakishly, exposing several dark love bites and rope burns. He yawned as he approached the table, smiled freely as Bull handed him a drink, and sat down beside him.

Rocky, ever the delicate one, grunted, "Well. That lad had a good night."

Dalish giggled. "Indeed. Was it another night of three times, Chief?"

He didn't have to answer; Dorian laughed—a beautiful sound. He grinned slyly at Bull. "Well now…how do we count? What shall we say a 'time' is, by definition?"

Krem, watching them with an expressionless face and a little sparkle in his eyes, arched an eyebrow and pointedly removed the cork from his bottle with a loud pop! Stitches nearly spat out his drink. Dorian just grinned wider, gorgeous and sharp. Ataashi.

"In that case," he pronounced, "it was only one for me. And," he glanced at Bull, "how many did you have, amatus?"

Little shit. As if he didn't know. But Bull smiled happily and told the whole table with pride, "Four."

His boys let out a cheer that shook the rafters, and Dorian leaned close, curling an arm around his as he kissed Bull's cheek in front of everyone.

End.