Just gonna throw a real “quick” (lol I wish) and super messy drawing of Dorian and Lloyd at you cause I HAD to do at least a small sketch for Dorianmance week! :<
But no worries, I’ve planned something bigger which I’ll hopefully be able to post until the end of the week. *wink at a certain person who already figured out my surprise for her, cough*
I saw a pic like this a few days ago and wanted to make a Lloyd x Dorian version...cause it’s super cute. I love smooches...morning smooches. Featuring bed hair and stubble! <3
Soo yeah, perfect timing, I guess. ;D
I’m too busy these days, cry. Fuck school.
And I’m going to sleep now. Good night! :’D
Commission for @noctvrnis, starring her fantastic Lloyd Trevelyan and Dorian! <3
Thank you so much, I had a super fun time with this!
“I see you still haven’t changed much in here.”
Dorian drops the two bags on the floor while looking around with a critical eye.
“Same curtains. Even same sheets! I do hope you had the servants wash them.”
“Of course.” Lloyd smirks at him from the wardrobe, where he’s already making space for Dorian’s clothes and belongings. “We possibly can’t have sex on cum-dirty sheets, can we?”
Dorian sniffles and makes an indignant noise, threatening to pout.
“Forgive me if I excessively care about our hygiene.”
“It’s alright, love.” Lloyd wiggles his eyebrows up and down, making Dorian snort. “I find it very endearing.”
Then he turns back to the wardrobe and bites his lower lip, pondering deeply.
“… I don’t really have the energy to take out all my stuff right now.”
“Well, I’m not leaving mine inside these bags! At least let me put away my nightclothes and books.” The Altus shoots him another pointed look. “And before you make another of those terrible jokes of yours, no, I’m not sleeping naked, amatus.”
“That’s going to be a problem for our steamy activities.” Lloyd innocently points out, but Dorian only grants him another snort, then takes care of the wardrobe by himself.
The Inquisitor sits on the bed, hands laced together between his legs, and observes him. He hides well his nervousness and anxiety, while Dorian’s shine through every word and stolen glance.
He talks quickly and answers his own questions without giving Lloyd the time to even listen properly to them and reply; he moves his most beautiful clothes inside the first drawer of the wardrobe and his hands shake as he does so.
“Why did I never see you wear this? It’s so good, amatus, Royal Sea Silk straight from Rivain!”
“You know I prefer other colours. That was a gift from some noble.” Lloyd passes a hand over his face, feeling the stubble that is growing along his chin and jaw. “Are you alright?”
It’s a sudden question, so Dorian is momentarily taken aback and it takes him some time to respond.
He even panics a little - Lloyd can see it, he can always recognize his lover’s changes in behavior -, but dismisses the question as if foolish.
“Of course I’m alright!” he exclaims, flashing a grin. “What, you thought I wasn’t used to hard physical work? Moving tons of clothes into a wardrobe is nothing compared to what we have to go through every time we leave this stronghold.”
“Oh, hush, you baby.” Lloyd grins back. “I know you love casting your flashy spells everywhere. If an enemy doesn’t dare paying you attention, you even get angry.”
“It’s outrageous, really. A valiant, expert mage like me is not someone to underestimate and ignore.” Dorian’s smile turns ecstatic and worried at the same time. “Fortunately you are here with me, amatus.”
He hurries to fill the silence again, but Lloyd won’t stay quiet this time. He keeps staring at him insistently until Dorian finally notices it and turns to him with anxious eyes.
“What?”
“Are you worried about living here?” Lloyd asks, explaining when the other man’s face tells him that he did not understand: “In my quarters, I mean. Do you feel nervous about that?”
“No! No, of course I don’t.” Dorian clears his throat and lowers his eyes to the rich vest he’s holding.
“Maybe a little.” he admits in a lower voice and this time silence falls completely in the vast room, broken only by the shouts of the soldiers training in the courtyard and the birds flying near the balconies.
“You must think I am a fool.” the Altus adds after a while, his tone defeated and even ashamed. He throws the vest on the ground and puts his hands on his hips, still refusing to look at Lloyd. “A grown-ass man who gets shaky hands at the thought of living together with his lover.”
“I don’t think that.” Lloyd reassures him, getting up to go to him. Dorian is forced to lock eyes with him now and he sees a smile on his face, but also his same anxiety in his green eyes.
“I feel like that too.” the Inquisitor continues, before resting his forehead against Dorian’s shoulder; his hands are on his waist, the touch gentle and warm, and Dorian sighs before wrapping his arms around him.
“We’ve got issues.” Lloyd candidly says and Dorian hums in agreement. Then he hums in panic.
“It’s nothing too bad and unresolvable, though… right?”
Lloyd chuckles and kisses his neck, before raising his head to look at him, a smile on his lips.
“Of course, my love. It just means we will act awkward and goofy for a few days.”
“Mh.” Dorian smiles too and raises an eyebrow. “Goofy is not exactly my style, but I fear you are right. Now, would you kindly help me put away my stuff?” He jokingly narrows his eyes and adds: “After all, you invited me. Have the decency to assist your guest.”
“You’re not a guest, Dorian.” Lloyd reminds him, patting his ass before picking up the vest from the floor. “This place belongs to you too now.”
A moment of silence, then: “… In that case, may I change the sheets? Please, they are horrid.”
“What?” Lloyd puts a hand above his heart, faking great pain and shock. “Such rudeness! I told you, they are cleaner than a nug’s butt!”
“That’s hardly comforting, amatus.”
“Everyone knows nugs are clean. Ask Cole. Dwarves even eat them.”
“After cleaning them.” Dorian snorts again, his way to stifle a laughter that would sound too enamored and fond.
He still doesn’t have the courage to let those sounds out, but Lloyd knows him well by now and doesn’t mind. He knows that he will be ready, sooner or later, and so he waits for that day patiently.
He holds back a lot as well and that’s another of their issues that they have to fix together.
In the end, they manage to put away Dorian’s stuff and even tidy up the room so that the Altus will have more space for his books and battle equipment.
The quarters immediately change look: no matter how many times the servants come, Lloyd is always able to make his room look disastrous, but now that Dorian is here, it’s like he stepped into another place entirely.
He can almost breathe a different air in it - it smells like Dorian’s favorite perfume and good oiled leather - and his head feels dizzy for a while.
He also feels like that because it’s all a bit different than their moments spent in Skyhold or in Dorian’s nook. There, they are relaxed and can joke and flirt with each other without feeling too nervous.
But here, in these rooms that have become theirs, not just his or mine anymore, they can feel the importance and seriousness of their relationship, they are more acutely aware of it and panic arises.
It’s a silly thing, Lloyd thinks, grumbling and wanting to slap himself for being so stupid. But Dorian is clearly affected by the novelty of living together too and so they act like a newly married and shy couple.
His beloved Altus sits on the couch, reading, and he sits at his desk, finishing to write and sign the last documents Josephine gave him.
He usually leaves those for the last second - much to the poor Ambassador’s annoyance -, but right now he needs to calm down as much as possible to help Dorian feel comfortable.
Suddenly, as a nice silence falls in the room, he hears Dorian chuckle.
“You are making that funny face again.”
“What funny face?” Lloyd smiles and Dorian explains, closing his book and resting his chin on his hand: “A very disgusted face. You always make it while reading Inquisition stuff.”
“This noble wrote ‘Holy Herald’ at least ten times in his letter.” he groans, already dreading the reply he will have to write. “I’m going to send him a freaking giant card saying ‘I’m not the Herald’ in capital letters.”
“Where is the noble from?” Dorian asks while reopening his book and curling his mustache.
“Orlais, of course. Why?”
“Then he would keep calling you that even more out of spite.” Dorian smirks wickedly at him, clearly enjoying Lloyd’s pout. “Relax, amatus, and pay them no mind.”
The evening proceeds smoothly after that. It’s like a glass between them broke and they can speak more easily, with less restraints, just like they do when they meet in the second level of the rotunda or when they travel together.
But then dinner comes and apparently the cooks and the servant bringing food didn’t know that Dorian is going to sleep in the Inquisitor’s quarters from now on.
The servant brings only one tray of food and her eyes widen comically as soon as she spots Dorian changing into his satin nightclothes.
“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry, I…!”
“It’s alright.” Lloyd smiles at her, finally getting away from the desk after spending the whole time biting his lips and fidgeting with a small arrow he uses to relax.
His back aches, but he feels way better than before after the casual, even sweet conversation he had with Dorian.
“Please, bring Dorian’s food here too.” He smiles at the Altus, who blushes and stubbornly keeps looking at the shirt he has to put on. Lloyd glances appreciatively at his abs and he young girl seems to be quite enthralled by them too.
“Yes, Your Worship.” She bows at him and Dorian and runs down the stairs after placing the tray on the small table near the couch.
“Oh Maker.” Dorian snickers, finally wearing the shirt, much to Lloyd’s chagrin. “If all Skyhold didn’t know before, now it certainly does.”
Lloyd smiles at him and Dorian’s cheeks get darker again, because he sees the sweetness and fond amusement in his green eyes.
“Is that a problem?” Lloyd asks and the Altus splutters something, panicking.
“Of course not!” he hurries to say, then sighs and sits on the edge of the bed, his mouth set into a straight line, so thin his mustache looks bigger.
“I’m sorry. This shouldn’t be so hard.”
“It shouldn’t, but it’s normal that it is for us.” Lloyd sits next to him and he wants to press a kiss on his bare neck, but stops himself from doing so.
“Used to us, you mean.” Dorian looks at him, his stare intense and heated. “It is so strange. Before, it was Tevinter that had to get used to me staying with another man, but that never happened. So now that I’m here, finally free, I am…” He makes a vague gesture, not knowing how to explain it. “I am scared. Scared of seeing disapproval, hatred, or discomfort in the people around us. Or…”
“Or in me?” Lloyd concludes for him, rubbing his back, and Dorian sighs again with a small nod of his head.
Again, Lloyd sees his neck and the cute mole on his face, but doesn’t kiss them.
One day, he thinks, he will feel brave enough to get closer, just like Dorian will feel free to fully let himself go in front of him.
He suddenly realizes they really made the next step in their relationship and he feels as scared as his lover. What if something happens to him in battle? What if all the bullshit he did in the past suddenly comes back to bite him in the ass, another kind gift from the kind Maker?
What if he makes Dorian suffer? What if they allow themselves to get closer, to make even more steps forward, and then everything is taken from them? Would that even be fair to Dorian?
Dorian notices his sudden silence, so different from the comfortable one that filled the room before, and he raises his head to look at him again.
“Amatus?” he calls and Lloyd blinks and snaps out of it, forcing himself to smile again.
“Sorry. I was thinking about some pretty deep stuff.”
Dorian looks even more alarmed and Lloyd resorts to his biggest weapon: jokes.
“Your asshole.” he explains, wiggling his eyebrows again, and Dorian’s expression is priceless, a mix between flat resignation and amusement.
He’s about to say something, when the servant knocks on the door again and brings the second tray of food.
They usually eat in the main hall, together with the companions and guests who want to join them for lunch or dinner. But this time, they are alone, sharing both the meal and personal quarters they made even more personal.
They talk and joke and flirt normally, like they would do in any other place, but Lloyd plays with his fork and fidgets with the napkin a lot, while Dorian is a bit tense and tries to be too smooth.
Lloyd knows him well by now. He knows when he isn’t being himself or feeling well.
So he comes up with a plan or at least an idea to make both feel better.
First, he starts eating in a sultry, sexy way, so much that even Dorian, distracted as he is now, notices it.
The cooks prepared a cherry tart and Lloyd seizes the chance to pop one into his mouth and sucks on it loudly, while staring insistently at his amatus.
Dorian stops talking midsentence and raises an eyebrow, his blush coming back, although he looks more shocked than aroused.
Lloyd pulls out the juicy, shiny cherry out of his mouth and places it on his plate, still staring.
“Ew.” Dorian comments, before grinning and shaking his head. “Maker, what are you doing? I thought we were past the awkward flirtation and mixed signals.”
“You are never too past them.” Lloyd corrects him, before sucking each of his fingers and taking a banana from Rivain. Dorian makes a strangled noise.
“No.”
Lloyd just wiggles his eyebrows for the third time that day and proceeds to nips at the top of the banana with a smug, playful smirk.
In the end, he plays with the food in such a ridiculous, endearing way that Dorian forgets about his panic entirely and starts laughing.
He stills holds himself back like Lloyd has expected, but at least the weird tension is gone from his body and face.
He laughs and laughs, covering his mouth because they are still eating, and Lloyd stops playing with his food to simply watch him and smile at him.
“Shall we take these to the bed?” he says, pointing at the trays. They have been eating their dinner at the desk, like he used to do when he still lived alone here, and Dorian turns to the large bed with mirth in his eyes.
“Why not?” he replies and now he’s the one who is smug and playful, daring and hopeful.
Just as Lloyd thought. They just need some time.
They bring their food to bed and Dorian complains about the crumbs only once, before changing topic, knowing Lloyd isn’t bothered by the idea of food on the blanket.
He himself doesn’t mind it that much - he’s just playing, pretending to be obsessed with tidiness to get a reaction out of Lloyd. And he’s succeeding, because the Inquisitor munches his bread even more sloppily than usual and makes sure to spread crumbs and pieces of it everywhere.
“I’m not going to sleep on this bed if you keep this up.” Dorian warns him, kicking his shin with his perfectly crafted satin slippers. Lloyd glances down at them, making a happy, admiring sound.
“Those are good! I never saw you wear them before.”
Dorian’s plump lips curl into a satisfied smile and he proudly looks down at his shoes.
“One of the few things I brought with me from home. They were too beautiful, too well done, and way too expensive to be left rotting in my room.” He groans and frowns, clearly thinking about something unpleasant. “My mother would have probably thrown them away.”
He changes topic again, not wanting to talk about his family and ruin the good mood. Lloyd understands that and so he doesn’t comment when Dorian smiles and quickly says: “I can hire a good cobbler for you, amatus. We could wear a pair.”
He leans in and presses a kiss on his forehead, adding softly: “Yours would be green with blue accents and the smallest traces of silver.” He smiles and strokes his hair, making Lloyd’s breath hitch in his throat. “And we will add the Inquisition symbol on them just to be sure.”
Lloyd snorts, the sound a prelude to a full, warm laughter that fills the room and warms it and Dorian’s heart even more than the fire crackling in the fireplace.
Then he rests his head on the Altus’ lap and stretches his legs, entering a blissful state of relax as Dorian starts caressing his hair again.
A sudden thought occurs to him, a so silly idea he can’t help but obsess over it for a moment. The idea of adding Dorian’s family crest to his clothes, a tiny detail just like the Inquisition symbol he wanted to put on his slippers.
He saw it before, Dorian wears it sometimes, a beautiful necklace that he does his best to hide and show at the same time, driven by the same nostalgia that drives the exiled surface dwarves to show their family crests, despite knowing they cannot go back to their home.
But wearing Dorian’s symbol would be like forcefully enter his life - even more than he has already done - and take something that isn’t really his to take, at least not now, not when the world is still threatening to kill them all and the Maker has better things to do than watch over His children.
So he pushes the thought aside, he pushes it into the deepest part of his mind hoping it will stay there quiet and nice, and closes his eyes.
“You didn’t finish your dinner.” Dorian softly says, playing with a long lock of hair, but Lloyd replies with a hum and rubs his face on his lap, making him grunt in surprise.
“The rest of my dinner is right here.” he says, grinning when Dorian lets out a - fake - exasperated sigh.
He doesn’t stop braiding his hair, though… at least until Lloyd starts nuzzling his face on his groin more insistently.
“Lloyd…” Dorian calls breathlessly, before closing his eyes and enjoying the touch of lips across his quickly-growing erection that is pressing against his satin pants.
Lloyd finds their opening and releases his manhood, discovering with pleasure that Dorian sleeps without underwear and there are no bothersome breaches to stop him from licking his lover’s cock.
At first, he licks it slowly, savoring the pungent taste and familiar texture, but Dorian gets quickly overwhelmed and impatient, so he decides to speeds things up a bit to avoid making him come too soon.
The night is still young, after all.
First, he undresses himself, slowly and carefully, making Dorian watch every movement as he regains his breath; then he starts undressing him too, starting from his slippers so that he can kiss his ankles, then moving to his pants.
“The… trays are on the way.” Dorian blurts out when his knee thumps against one of them. So Lloyd grins at him and gets up, completely naked, to carry them back to his desk.
He keeps moving slowly, accentuating the powerful strain of his muscles and flexing his arms a bit, knowing Dorian loves them a lot.
When he comes back to bed, the Altus is breathing even more heavily than before and watching him with a lustful, playful light in his eyes.
“I suppose this is the dessert.” he jokes, stretching on the soft blanket and sheets. He pats the space next to him and Lloyd joins him again, helping him remove the satin shirt he’s still wearing.
Once they are both completely naked, the fun begins.
“I think this is better than dessert.” Lloyd says, playing along, his hand already stroking Dorian’s erection.
This time the Altus retaliates and touches his too, paying particular attention to its glistening head and rubbing his thumb on it until the other man is slightly panting.
“Hey, this is unfair!” Lloyd laughs, nibbling his earlobe and cupping his sack with a firm grip, making him gasp and jump into his touch. Lloyd smiles wickedly at him. “Behave, gorgeous, or you are gonna sleep on the couch tonight.”
“Is this how you treat your guests?” Dorian replies, purposefully running his thumb down his length. “I didn’t know you were so rude, amatus.”
“You aren’t a guest, Dorian.” Lloyd repeats, peppering his chest with kisses. He raises his eyes to him and repeats, almost sternly: “You aren’t a guest.”
That same blush from before returns on the Altus’ cheeks and he snorts, looking away to hide his smile. His now free hand finds Lloyd’s hair, though, and he caresses it again while he descends even lower along his body.
He presses a kiss on his manhood, making him gasp, then slips a hand under the mattress to retrieve the small jar of lube he keeps there.
“Here is your favorite perfumed oil.” he announces happily, grinning ear to ear. “I ordered it from Tevinter just for you!”
“Oh for…” Dorian covers his face with his hands and barely stifles his laughter. “Lloyd. Please, tell me you didn’t ask that requisition fellow near the armory to order lubing oil for you.”
“Of course I did.” Lloyd plants the sweetest of kisses on his thigh, a bit of oil already on his fingertips. “Only the best for my not-guest boyfriend.”
Dorian snorts and keeps his face hidden, but he makes low, keening sounds every time Lloyd’s fingers tease his entrance. He’s not insistent, but he definitely asks for attention.
“It was very kind - mh - of you.” Dorian finally admits and Lloyd grins again, slipping one digit in and watching his lover gasp in surprise and pleasure.
Dorian shows his face again and his hands spring up to pull Lloyd closer, until he can kiss him easily and dig his fingers into his soft hair.
Lloyd keeps thrusting his finger in and out, then adds a second one which causes Dorian to moan loudly into his mouth. When he pulls back, there is a bit of saliva trailing down a corner of his mouth.
“Amatus.” he pants, his breathing getting heavier by the second. His other hand is stroking Lloyd’s manhood again and he is quite lost in pleasure too.
“Amatus, are you sure about this?”
Lloyd frowns, confused, and shakes his head with a puzzled smile while curling his fingers and eliciting another beautiful reaction from Dorian.
“About what? This isn’t our first time having sex, love.”
“I know, you ass.” Dorian replies, smacking his shoulder with a smile which quickly turns into a worried expression again. “I meant - ah! Slower! - I-I meant me living here.”
“Dorian, this isn’t exactly the right time to discuss this.” Lloyd removes his fingers and plunges them into the oil to coat his cock with it. Dorian seizes the chance to catch his breath and insist:
“It is the right time. I don’t want you to regret this. I don’t want this to be a…”
“It’s not like we’re getting married, Dorian.” Lloyd blurts out, hiding his true feelings and the thoughts he had before. “I told you, we just need to get used to this.”
“Yes, but…”
Dorian doesn’t finish his sentence, because Lloyd quickly trusts into him, sheathing himself into him almost up to the base of his manhood. It’s a rough move, but Dorian is prepared enough and he feels warm and soft around his cock and there is no displeasure or pain on his face, only bliss.
And a bit of annoyance, that’s true.
“You are trying to distract me.” he grumbles, glaring at the man above him.
“No, gorgeous. I’m trying to fuck you.”
Lloyd slowly pulls his hips back, then thrusts in again, moaning as loudly as Dorian. They find their usual rhythm quite easily and soon Dorian’s mouth is pressed on his lover’s neck, his moans and happy sounds muffled by the hot, sweaty skin.
Lloyd moves to find the right angle and he hits it with a precision achieved after spending many nights like this; he knows Dorian better than he knows himself at this point and his hands and lips find all the other soft spots that make him go wild.
Dorian knows him quite well too, because just a few words and some deep, languid kisses are enough to make Lloyd lose his mind as well.
And then something clicks into the Inquisitor, like a key perfectly fitting a keyhole or the piece of a puzzle finally finding its rightful place.
He hasn’t found the last piece of the puzzle that his relationship with Dorian is - only time and the Maker will tell whether they can stay together or suffer the inevitable consequences of this war -, but he dares feel hopeful now.
It’s ironic that he feels like this while making love to his beloved, moaning Altus, but fate is nothing but ironic, apparently.
“Dorian.” he calls, as his last thrusts bring the other man over the climax and make him come all over his stomach. “Dorian, my love - look at me.”
And Dorian does so, locking eyes with him as his orgasm ripples through him; his hair is sweaty and his face red and he looks like the most beautiful thing Lloyd has ever seen.
He feels scared and elated at the same time.
“I… I…” He tries to speak, but his mind is a white, vast space of nothingness and he can just come with Dorian’s name on his lips. He spends inside him and falls down, held tightly by him.
It takes them some time to regain their breath, but once they do, Lloyd slightly rises to look at Dorian again and says softly, cupping his cheek:
“I promise you I will try to make this work.”
Dorian observes him for a long moment, quiet, then a huge smile curls his lips and he presses them on his.
“That’s more than I was ever allowed to hope for, amatus.”
They hold each other, not even bothering to cover themselves with the blanket, and fall asleep in the room that now belongs to both of them, a prelude to something more.
