I'm trying to organise my gdocs, and I came across this thing from a while back. It's short but fun, just 600 words or so of my Lavellan absolutely thirsting after Dorian
Bringing Dorian along on this trip was a mistake. Why had Yeriel thought this was a good idea? He was a mage, surely they hadn’t needed another on the small expedition through the Dales and west towards Val Royeaux, even if they’d had to take a detour around Lake Celestine. Surely Cassandra and Sera would have been plenty of company. They’d stopped for the night at a small inn near Val Foret, empty except for the bored-looking owner, as it would be another full day’s riding before they’d reach the Orlesian capital, and after the past few days, all four of them were aching for a good night’s sleep.
Cassandra and Sera had gotten washed up by the well behind the building first and were now inside eating, waiting for Yeriel and Dorian to join them once they’d gotten clean and dry as well. They’d both been so relieved to stop for the day that it wasn’t until Dorian took his robe off that Yeriel realised that this was going to be… interesting.
Creators, it was challenging enough to be around him with his clothes on.
But no, there he was, stripping down to nothing but his breeches, as if Yeriel’s fingers and lips weren’t buzzing to explore the entirety of his ridiculously perfect body. His skin still looked soft even with the layer of travel-dirt and battle-debris, and Yeriel very quickly busied his hands undoing his braids before he could get too far in imagining what those toned muscles might feel like under his palms.
He’d had enough idle fantasies about Dorian’s arms and hands lately, he really hadn’t needed to know what the man’s back looked like when he stretched like that…
“You know,” said Dorian, somewhat pulling Yeriel back to reality a little, “as savage as this all is - and it is downright barbaric - I do rather prefer it to stream-water.” He stuck a hand into the bucket of water sitting at the edge of the well. “In no small part because I can do this,” he finished, the water starting to steam a little from the heat of the spell he was casting.
“Brilliant,” said Yeriel with a small grin, though he was mostly just relieved to have said something other than I want to lick every inch of you, and finally managed to rid himself of the outer layers of his own clothes.
Cleaning his hair with the small, rough piece of soap they’d brought along was something of a task, and quickly took his mind off all the interesting ways he could imagine pressing their bodies against each other. Washing bits of templar out of his hair took up too much focus for that, at least until he reached out to hand the soap to Dorian and glanced up from where he was bent over the bucket to find that Dorian was looking at him with some interest.
“I didn’t realise you had them all over,” said Dorian softly, taking the soap, and it took Yeriel a small moment to realise he meant the tattoos - of course, that’s what he’d been looking at. So much for those few seconds of elated excitement.
“Oh, well,” he said, straightening up, “the, uh- when we were younger, my friends and I would practice on each other. You have to sit still for this one,” he pointed to his face, “and not make any noise at all. We wanted to prove how tough and grown-up we were.” He stretched out his arm to show off a particularly wonky design. “They’re not very good, but we were all doing it.”
