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Man's Best Friend

Chapter Text

As soon as the meeting was over, Dorian stood, pressing his fists into his lower back and bending backward a bit, groaning as a series of small pops and cracks followed the movement. One would have thought the success of the Inquisition would have meant less work, but apparently saving the world meant that you were simply given more tasks to do instead. For those who'd remained at Skyhold following Corypheus's defeat, that meant taking on different and more important responsibilities than hunting down Venatori and red templars.

For Dorian, it meant finding himself in charge of the Inquisition's mages. With Solas gone who-knew-where and Vivienne returning to Celene's court, there had been no one else Evie had trusted. She had even been apologetic when she'd given him the task, but Dorian understood the bind she was in. As inconvenient as it could be at times, he shuddered to think what would happen if the mages were left in far less capable hands than his own.

Still, the meetings could stand to be far shorter than they were.

"Dorian, a moment?"

Dorian looked over at Cullen, who was similarly rolling his shoulders to get rid of the stiffness. "Yes, Commander?"

"I know it's late," he glanced out into the blackness beyond the windows, "but could you ask Blackwall to attend the drills tomorrow? The mages really do need to work on defending themselves, and more than a few of my own men could use instruction on how to use a shield against magical attacks more effectively."

Dorian arched one brow. "I would think you'd be more suited to asking, but given the hour, Evie's probably waiting for you, isn't she?"

Cullen at least had the good grace to look a little guilty as he smiled. "She is," he agreed.

Dorian waved a hand at him. "Go then. We wouldn't want to keep her waiting. Besides, a walk would do me some good."

"Thank you."

"Get Josephine to arrange another shipment of wine that's actually palatable and we'll call it even."

Cullen's grin widened and he gathered his papers quickly before hurrying out the door. Bemused, Dorian watched him go. Maker, he'd never seen a man so besotted, even after all this time.

Taking his time, Dorian wandered out of the war room, through the keep, and outside. Though it was late, it was the middle of summer, and even Skyhold managed to stay warm. Dorian was determined to enjoy it as long as he could. The one thing he missed most about Tevinter was weather, something that was severely lacking so far south and high in the mountains.

The soft, dim glow of lanterns shone from the barn, letting Dorian know that Blackwall was still awake. The man was too stubborn for his own good, Dorian thought as he made his way over. Refusing the perfectly good rooms in the keep and choosing to stay in the barn. Honestly, who did that? At least Evie had finally demanded that they fix the upper floor up, giving him an actual furnished living space rather than hay bales that were exposed to the elements.

He slid the barn door open just enough to let himself inside, looking around as he did so. No sign of Blackwall, just his current carving project on the table. Dorian was about the call out when an odd sound made him pause. It had sounded like someone had cried out in pain, but noise had been cut off. Frowning, Dorian listened, hearing soft noises and shuffling coming from one of the enclosed stalls just to the left of the barn.

Carefully, Dorian moved noiselessly across the floor, readying himself to cast should he need to. As he stepped up to the doorway, he spotted Blackwall leaning against one of the stall doors, looking inside. Dorian sighed in relief, shoulders sagging as he walked up to Blackwall. "There you are, I was..."

Blackwall turned as soon as Dorian started speaking, eyes widening slightly, but that wasn't what caused Dorian to lose the words he'd been speaking.

Inside the stall was Blackwall's mabari, Con, but he wasn't alone. With him was a man, naked and on his knees, shoulders down and ass up as Con's cock pounded away at him. A leather mask shaped to look like a dog's face obscured the man's identity, but Dorian didn't care. Shocked, he watched, transfixed the mabari fucked the man like he was a bitch in heat. Con's frantic thrusting stopped after a few more moments and the man below him moaned in obvious pleasure. Dorian felt his cock give a traitorous little twitch at the sight and sound, getting half hard as he stood there. Unconsciously, his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

It wasn't until Blackwall shifted beside him that Dorian came back to his senses. He tore his eyes from the stall to stare at Blackwall. For his part, Blackwall said nothing, just watched Dorian, gaze narrowed and speculative. Horrified at his own reaction and at being caught, Dorian stumbled backward. Blackwall blinked and took a step forward, but Dorian just kept rapidly backing up. Once he was several paces away, he turned and fled back to the keep, the moans of the man echoing in his ears.

Dorian was back in his quarters before he realized he had never delivered Cullen's message. He'd just have to send a messenger in the morning. There was no way he was going back now, not after that.

He leaned back against the closed door, burying his face in his hands. If he'd didn't know better, he'd think that he was asleep in and in the Fade, and that the scene he'd walked in on was something conjured by a desire demon to tempt him. It would be fitting, a demon showing him the worst of the forbidden perversions he'd thought he'd buried deep inside. It had been years since he'd let himself think of that particular fantasy, and now he'd couldn't get the images and sounds out of his mind.

Pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, he snarled in frustration. He needed to forget what he saw, get some sleep, avoid Blackwall for as long as possible, and never, ever think of it again.

Annoyed, he pushed himself away from the door and stalked to the tiny attached bathing room. A careless wave of his hand had the water waiting in his bath steaming in moments. He stripped in jerky movements, only slowing down when he heard stitches strain. The robes had been a gift from Evie; it wouldn't do if he ripped them because he was aggravated at himself. Dorian forced himself to be calm. He folded his clothes, set them aside, and slid into the still slightly too hot water.

Leaning against the back of the tub, he let the hot water seep into his muscles, moaning quietly as it eased the tension in his shoulders and back. Unfortunately, as soon as the sound filled the small room, he was instantly taken back to the barn, hearing again the moans of the man under Con, the moans of a man being fucked by a dog and liking it. His cock, which had never gone completely soft, hardened again.

"Fuck!" Dorian hissed through gritted teeth. This wasn't going to go away just because he wanted it to. Old desires had been reawakened and they were going to stay with him until he did something about them. Fine, he thought, reaching for a small bottle of scented bath oil and moving to sit on the edge of the tub. Better to get it out of the way here, in private, than to keep dealing with. Maybe indulging in the fantasy while taking himself in hand would solve the problem long enough for him deal with it properly.

He dripped a little oil into one hand and took his cock in hand. He took a deep breath and pictured the scene in his mind again. The man on the floor of the stall, ass raised high in the air, Con over his back.

Con must have felt huge on top of the man, all that heavy muscle and bone of a purebred mabari. Dorian shivered, stroking himself quickly. He hadn't been able to see much, not with the angle, but what he did see of Con's cock made him clench around nothing. Con must have felt just as huge inside the man as on top of him, if not more so.

Dorian tried to picture himself in the man's place, the hard wood of the floor biting into his hands and knees, scraping a bit as Con's thrusts pushed him forward. It would probably be warm, Con's short fur ticklish and scratchy against his back. And the knot... Dorian shuddered, stroking faster and tighter. How would it feel inside him? Would it be just right? Or would it feel like it was too much, like he was going to be split open, unable to do anything except just take it?

He came with a low groan, his orgasm so powerful he felt lightheaded. He grasped the side of the tub with his free hand to keep from slipping back down. He wiped the come off his hand with a washcloth and then sank back down into the water, feeling wrung out and drowsy. He let himself soak in the water until it cooled, and then washed quickly, pulling the ingenious little plug out of the bottom of the tub to let the water drain as he dried off.

He slipped into bed, feeling just the littlest bit guilty, and settled down to sleep, determined not to think about it again.

Of course, he couldn't escape the situation entirely. In the morning, he sent a messenger to Blackwall and prepared himself for anything the man might say. Dorian was fairly certain Blackwall wouldn't say anything; after all, it was his dog that had been fucking someone. But there were still those who distrusted a Tevinter mage, and Blackwall could make his life...difficult, if he so choose to.

As it turns out, he needn't have worried. He and Blackwall barely interacted, and when they did it was completely professional. By the time drills were done, Dorian was just about convinced that the entire incident could be forgotten about.

And then Con came bounding over, bumping Blackwall's hand affectionately. Dorian stared for just a moment too long, and started to turn away.

"Dorian!" Blackwall called, making him freeze in place. "I'm going to train some of the men with Con. Care to join us?"

Dorian stared at him, wondering just what Blackwall was implying and how to answer. Finally, he cleared his throat. "Ah, no, I think I'll pass."

Blackwall nodded easily. "All right." He tilted his head slightly, the barest of smiles showing through his beard. "But if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

Dorian watched them go, Con prancing around Blackwall's legs like a puppy. Was that what he thought it was? An invitation for what he'd seen like last? His cock twitched at the thought.

Well, shit, as Varric would say.

Chapter Text

It took Dorian a week to decide to take Blackwall up on what his invitation seemed to be. In the end, the possibility of having something so forbidden overrode all of his hesitations. He would see if he could have this, if only once, to finally sate his curiosity. Still, even after coming to that decision, it took him another week after that to actually work up the courage to make his way to the barn.

Like before, soft, warm light shone from the barn, though when he approached this time, the barn door was open a foot or so. For a moment, he considered knocking and then dismissed the idea. If Blackwall didn't want someone walking in, he'd have closed the door. Though, admittedly, that hadn't stopped Dorian last time. He winced slightly at the memory of how rude he'd been.

Dorian slipped in through the open door before his courage could fail him, blinking for a moment against the light, which while dim was still brighter than outside had been. Blackwall was sitting at his table, working on a small block of wood. Con was at his feet, sitting on them, actually, and he perked up, lifting his head and tilting it as Dorian entered. Blackwall glanced down at Con and then up and back to Dorian. He nodded once and pulled one foot out from under Con, using it to shove the bench along the other side of the table out. Taking the implied offer of a seat, Dorian crossed the space and sat down.

Once he was seated, Con sat up and turned, setting his head on Dorian's knee and looking up at him with pleading eyes. Dorian hesitantly reached out to pat his head. "Don't worry, he doesn't bite," Blackwall said, not looking up from his carving.

Dorian leveled an incredulous look at him. "I've seen him tear men's throats out."

That earned him a quiet huff of laughter. "Yes, well, not with those he likes. He's harmless as a babe."

Dorian gave the dog a look, but dutifully scratched a little harder, focusing behind Con's ears when the dog turned his head a bit. "A babe is not exactly how I'd describe what I've seen him do," he muttered.

Blackwall hmmmed and set down his carving, sitting back in his chair and stretching his legs out. "I was wondering if that's why you came."

"Fasta vass!" Dorian snapped. "Why else would I be here?"

"You mean you didn't come for my scintillating wit and charming conversation? I'm hurt." Blackwall grinned, tone clearly teasing. He rose from his seat and went to the barn door, closing it and dropping a simple hook latch to keep the doors shut. "I want to apologize for that night," he said as he came back. "I should have locked the door."

"Yes, you should have," Dorian agreed. "Your...guest didn't mind?"

Blackwall shook his head. "He likes when people watch, actually."

"Oh." Dorian felt himself blushing. "Is that, uh, what the mask was for? To hide his identity?"

Blackwall shook his head again. "No, he's Orlesian. He just likes wearing it."

"I see." Con whined and butted his hand, prompting Dorian to resume scratching his ears. "You're awfully blasé about this, you know."

One of Blackwall's eyebrows arched. "You walked in on my dog fucking a man. Should I be the one surprised?"

"No, no, it's just..." Dorian sighed. "I don't even know why I came here tonight. This entire thing is ridiculous."

"You came because you need something, and you finally found a way to get it," Blackwall said simply, sitting back down.

"I...that's..." Dorian's words failed him, a rare occasion and he simply nodded once.

Blackwall regarded him silently for several long moments. "Care to explain why, then? I'd like to hear, if you've a mind to share."

"It's stupid," Dorian muttered.

"Not to you it isn't," Blackwall said gently. "Everyone has a different reason, and it helps to know why so I can make sure you get what you need."

Dorian shook his head, battling the old feelings of shame and disgust, the urge to get up and walk out and never speak of it again. What he wanted was wrong, but it had never stopped him from wanting it. And now he was being offered the chance at such a taboo experience. When else would he be offered something like this? If he left, he would likely never have this opportunity again. And so, even though it was a struggle, he found himself answering. "It was a joke. Tevinter prides itself on being the greatest, but losing a massive chunk of the empire to barbarians is something that still offends them today. The mabari irk them as well, as they're believed to be a Tevinter creation. So they sooth their battered national pride by portraying Ferelden as an entire nation of dog lovers. Literally." He rolled his eyes. "There was...a book. It showed, ah, certain Fereldan nobles with their hounds engaged in illicit activities. It was intended to mock Ferelden."

"But you liked what you saw?"

It was more statement than question. Dorian felt his cheeks burning furiously and he couldn't meet Blackwall's or Con's gaze. "Yes."

"Why?" Blackwall prodded gently.

"I liked the thought of being held down by such savage, bestial power," he admitted quietly. "And I liked the idea of, of being put in that position, by people who showed mine that they could be defeated, by the very beasts who, when given a choice, chose our betters."

Again, Blackwall was silent for a long time. Finally, he leaned forward, putting a hand on Dorian's other knee. "Then let Con and I help you."

Dorian looked up. "I don't know if I can."

"We'll go slow," Blackwall promised. "And it can stop whenever you want it to. Well," he shrugged slightly, "almost anytime you want it to. There is a point of no return."

Dorian shivered at the thought, eyes falling shut. This could go so very wrong, be nothing like he hoped it would be, but he wanted to try.

"Is that something you want?" Blackwall asked. Swallowing hard, Dorian nodded. Blackwall squeezed his knee gently. "I need to hear you say it.

Dorian opened his eyes, meeting Blackwall's calm, understanding gray ones. "Yes," he breathed. "Please."

"All right." Blackwall let go of Dorian's knee and sat back in his seat, eyes narrowed slightly in thought. "Come back in three nights, once it is fully dark out.

That jolted Dorian. "What? Not...not now?"

Smiling gently, Blackwall shook his head. "No, not right now. You need a few days to think it over and make sure it's something you really want. If in three days, you still want it, Con and I will be ready for you."

Dorian slumped back a little. "I understand." He did. As much as he wanted this, it was good that Blackwall didn't let him--or anyone else, he supposed--rush into this without thinking about it. "Is there anything I need to do?"

"Not especially. I recommend taking some time each night to stretch. Con doesn't like hurting his partners, and while accidents can happen, I prefer to minimize them as much as possible. And so you know, I will check you to make sure you can take him, and stretch you more if I think you need it. Do you agree to that?"

Dorian let his gaze fall down to Blackwall's hands, his big, thick hands with long blunt fingers. He licked his dry lips. "Yes. Of course."

"Good." Blackwall patted his thigh and Con immediately turned so that Blackwall could rub his head. "We'll see you in three nights then."

Dorian understood the gentle dismissal and stood, brushing his robes off more out of habit than any actual concern that Con had soiled them. "You will, indeed. Good night." Determined, he left the barn with his head held high.

The next three days went by agonizing slowly. Dorian spent most of each day getting hard every time he thought about what was to come. And he spent every night slipping his fingers inside himself, stretching himself out so that he'd be ready for Con. He stroked himself while he did it, but stopped before he came. He didn't doubt that he'd be able to get hard when Con was fucking him--he shivered a little at the thought--but he wanted the anticipation, to be so ready for it that he was desperate.

On the third day, he waited impatiently for the sun to set, and then for the last rays of light to die. Once he could see a handful of stars twinkling in the deep black of the night sky, he headed toward the barn. Like the other night, the door was open and he slipped through, closing it behind him and dropping the latch. Then he turned back to see Blackwall and Con watching him with nearly identical expressions of interest.

"Are you ready?" Blackwall asked after a long moment.

Dorian took a deep breath. "I am."

Blackwall rose from his seat, beckoning Dorian closer. "Before we begin, there are a few things I need to make sure you know. Until Con's got his knot in your ass, you can say stop and we will. After that, you're going to be tied for a while. There's no way to stop it then. Do you understand?"

Dorian nodded. That condition was more than reasonable. "Yes. Does it...hurt?"

Blackwall smiled gently. "Not if you're prepared. It feels strange, yes, but good if it's something you want."

That made Dorian think. He looked at Blackwall. "You know what it feels like?" he asked, brows rising.

Blackwall's smile widened. "Aye. I'd never let my men to do something that I didn't know firsthand. My captain did the same for me, and I do the same for my men."

Dorian tried to picture that, a young Blackwall on his knees, taking a dog's cock up the ass the way Dorian was going to be very shortly. It was...difficult. "That's hard to imagine," he admitted. "You don't seem the type."

"There is no 'type,'" Blackwall said firmly. "It's something that some men want and need. Others, like me, know that, but prefer to be their handler, to take care of their men, give them what they need."

"Is that what I am now?" Dorian asked, cock twitching slightly at the thought. "One of Blackwall's men?"

The smile faded from Blackwall's face, his expression turning thoughtful. "No, not one of Blackwall's men," he answered slowly after a long moment. "One of Thom's. I'm not..." he faltered. "Here, like this, I'm not Blackwall. I'm just Thom."

"Thom." Dorian turned the name over in his mind and on his tongue.

"I would prefer if you called me that when we're here, like this."

"Just here?" Dorian asked carefully.

"When we're alone," Black--Thom said with a rueful smile. "I have to be Blackwall out there, but I miss Thom. At least parts of him, anyway."

It had to be confusing to live as two people. Dorian understood, somewhat at least, and it was an easy request to fulfill especially given what Thom was going to do for him. "Of course, Thom," he said, feeling a rush of pleasure at the way Thom smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "So, is there anything else before we, uh, get on with this?"

"Just one thing." Thom's eyes narrowed. "It should be obvious, but you're not to tell anyone about this. Most would not understand, and I'll not risk having my men shamed for it. If you do that, I can promise you you'll regret it." It's wasn't exactly an overt threat of violence, but it was a warning.

"Of course," Dorian replied quickly. "I doubt anyone would believe me even if I did tell them." He made a face, looking away. "They'd sooner believe the wicked Tevinter mage was corrupting the faithful soldiers on the Inquisition."

"Hey." One of Thom's hands came up cup his cheek, his thumb stroking over his lower lip in a way that made Dorian's mouth go dry. "You know that's not what anyone thinks of you anymore. You're a good man. There's nothing wrong with wanting this, and I won't let anyone try to hurt you with it." His hand gripped Dorian's chin and he shook Dorian's head very gently. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," Dorian whispered.

"Good." Thom let go of his face and stepped back, turning toward his work table which was covered by a cloth. He carefully pulled it away and gestured for Dorian to step closer.

The usual carving and tools were gone from his work table, and when Dorian saw what was in their place, his mouth went dry. There were three masks: a simple domino, the dog shaped one he'd seen on the other man, and a full one that would cover his face completely. Next to them were four collars, ranging in thickness and decoration from a simple leather strip to a fully studded collar for a warhound. Last were four leashes, two leather--one thin and one thick--and two chain--one with small, polished steel links and the other thick, heavy metal. In the corner was a small wooden box, contents hidden from view.

"Take some time. See if there's anything you'd like to use, and then we'll get started," Thom told him and moved back to give Dorian some privacy.

Dorian looked at the items laid out and considered them. He started with the masks, reaching out to pick up the domino. He supposed for most that it would help conceal their identity if someone walked in, like he had. But there were few in Skyhold who looked like him. His skin color and hair alone would be enough to identify him. Besides, he'd sworn he was done hiding when he'd left Tevinter. This was who he , what he wanted, and he wasn't going to be ashamed of it. He set the mask back down and turned to the collars and leashes.

He dismissed the heaviest of both immediately. Though he hadn't ever considered using them, he knew that they weren't what he was looking for. His hand hovered over the remaining collars before he picked up the middle one. It was about an inch wide, made of a dark brown, buttery soft leather. There were simple decorative designs tooled into the leather and the buckle was polished, the leather sliding through it easily. He held it up, trying to imagine it wrapped around his throat. Shivering from the images it sparked in his mind, he gripped the collar tightly and turned to the leashes.

Well, he'd never been shy about liking shiny things. He picked up the smaller chain one, the links cold against his skin. It wasn't too heavy, just enough weight to it that he'd feel the pull of it on the collar.

The only thing left was the box, but Thom had left it closed, and Dorian suspected that he wasn't supposed to see whatever was inside yet. Decisions made, he turned around.

Thom was across the room, down on one knee, speaking quietly to Con and stroking his back. Con, however, was looking right at Dorian, eyes and posture alert and intent. Right then, Dorian knew what it felt like to be prey, to be the focus of all that power and instinct.

The moan that bubbled out of his throat was completely involuntary, and caught Thom's attention. He rose smoothly to his feet and quickly came to Dorian's side. "All set?" he asked, reaching out for the items in Dorian's hand.


Thom just nodded and set them back down on the table. "One more thing. What do you want to be to Con?"

Dorian frowned. "I don't grasp your meaning."

"Men like to be treated differently. Some like to be brought low, to be treated as nothing more than a mindless animal, to be humiliated and degraded. They come to be Con's bitch, to be a thing to be fucked. Is that what you want?"

Immediately, Dorian shook his head. That did not appeal to him at all. If he wanted to be treated like something to be reviled, all he had to do was go back to Tevinter.

"I didn't think so," Thom said with a grin. "And some men just like the release of it. They like not having to worry about anything except letting go."

"That doesn't sound terrible," Dorian mused.

"No," Thom drew the word out. "But this should be more than 'not terrible.'" He gave Dorian a searching look. "Would you mind if I took a guess at what you'd like."

"Not at all. You know more about this than I. I'm interested in your...assessment of me."

Thom considered him for a long moment. "I think," he said slowly, "that you want to be Con's partner. That you want to experience that power and rawness, but not to suffer through it. I think," he raised a hand, brushing it over Dorian's neck and then slid his hand into the hair on the back of Dorian's head. He gripped, not harshly, but tight enough that Dorian instinctively bared his throat. "I think," Thom said huskily, "that you want to be good. For Con. For me. I think you want to get on your knees for Con and let him fuck you until you're dripping with his come. You want him to fill you up with his seed." He tipped his head slightly. "With his pups."

Dorian moaned, long and low, knees buckling a little as Thom's words stirred something inside him that he'd never known. "Please," he groaned. "Yes, that. I want that, Thom, please."

Thom grinned. "Hush now. We'll give you what you need. Just be a good boy and everything will be fine."

Chapter Text

Thom's hand left Dorian's hair and moved toward his clothes instead. He had Dorian's belt undone and set aside before Dorian moved. "I can--" he began, reaching for his buckles, but Thom pushed his hands away.

"Be still," he ordered gently. "I'm going to take care of you. All you need to do is listen and be good."

Dorian let his hands fall to his sides, breath quickening at the easy command in Thom's voice. Thom removed his clothes, slowly and with care, moving Dorian as he needed to, folding each item and setting it down on the chair next to the table. It felt strange to be stripped like that, and Dorian felt like Thom was doing more than peeling off layers of clothes, like more of him was being exposed than simply his skin. They weren't even doing anything, but it was unbearably erotic. By the time Thom set Dorian's smallclothes on top of the pile, Dorian was completely hard, cock standing proudly out from his body.

Thom gave him a once over and then asked, "You still good?" Not trusting himself to speak, Dorian just nodded, throat bobbing as he swallowed. Thankfully, whereas Thom had made him answer verbally before, he didn't seem to require it now. "Very good," he murmured, petting Dorian's hair with a couple firm strokes. It should maybe have been embarrassing, but Dorian just pushed into the contact, his eyes falling shut.

He didn't open them again until he felt Thom wrapping the collar around his throat. Then they flew open and he watched Thom's face as he reached around to buckle the collar at the back of Dorian's neck. He stepped back to admire the collar and smiled. "It looks good on you," he murmured.

Dorian couldn't help his own pleased smile, though he felt inexplicably shy. "Do I..." He paused to work moisture back into his mouth. "Do I need to talk?"

"Not if you don't want to. Some do, some don't. As long as you tell me if something's wrong. All right?"

"Yes. Thank you." He relaxed, the last remnants of tension draining from him.

Thom reached for the leash, affixing it to the front of the collar. While he held the end, the slack in the chain brushed against Dorian's chest, cold and ticklish. Then Thom set one hand on Dorian's shoulder and pushed, not hard, but with clear meaning. Dorian let himself go down, the wooden floor hard beneath his knees when he settled on them. Thom kept pushing until Dorian leaned forward, bracing his weight on his hands. Dorian shuddered once he was on all fours, feeling small and vulnerable as Thom stood over him. He couldn't help shivering, even though it was warm in the barn, fine tremors running through his limbs.

The leash tugged slightly as Thom coiled up the slack, but there was no pressure or direction to move. "So good," Thom praised, reaching down to run his fingers through Dorian's hair, blunt nails scratching his scalp. "Look how pretty you are."

They stayed like that for long minutes, Thom petting Dorian in silence until his shivering finally stopped and he was leaning against Thom's leg. Then he took a step away and tugged gently on the leash. "Come on, Con's waiting."

It should have been mortifying to be made to crawl naked across a floor, collared and leashed like an animal. And while Dorian was a bit self-conscious about how he must look, the blush that was creeping over his skin was from pleasure, not embarrassment. Thom muttered to him as they slowly crossed the floor. The words were indistinct, but his tone was warm and fond, pleased and encouraging. By the time they reached the stalls, Dorian was moving more confidently, head up as they stopped and Thom opened the door, leading him inside.

Within the stall, the straw had been swept back into the corners, and a clean horse blanket was spread out on the floor. Con was curled up on a corner of it, but as soon as he saw them, he stood up, stump tail and entire rear end wiggling in excitement. "Down, Con," Thom told him firmly. "We need to make sure Dorian's all ready for you before you can have fun." Con immediately sat, though he didn't take his eyes off Dorian.

Thom led Dorian to the center of the blanket, uncoiling the leash and looping the handle onto a hook set in one of the walls. "Stay," he told Dorian. "I'll be right back."

Dorian didn't even look around as Thom stepped out of the stall, listening as his footsteps drifted across the room and then back. He wait until he heard the stall door close before he dared to glance over his shoulder. Thom set down a crate against the wall behind Dorian and then placed the closed box from the table on top of it. "Let's see if you're ready," he said, taking a knee behind Dorian.

Turning his head back around, Dorian let it hang down as he lowered himself onto his elbows, spreading his knees wider for Thom's inspection.

"Look at that, Con," Thom approved. "Already trained. He's going to be perfect for you." One of Thom's hands settled on his ribs, stroking down Dorian's flank, then over his hip and down his thigh. "He's young and strong. Healthy. Look at these lines. A mate like this will produce a fine litter." Dorian whined helplessly. Maker, if his father could see him now... The unbidden image of Dorian presenting Halward with a litter of pups as his heirs almost made him laugh, but the thought of being bred made his breath catch and his hole clench.

"Oh, and look at that pretty pink hole." A thick, calloused finger dragged across Dorian's pucker, drawing a sharp gasp. "Just wait until it's all stretched out around your cock, until he's writhing on your knot." Rough hands stroked the sensitive skin between Dorian's cheeks. "And not a hair in sight. Not a hair anywhere. Almost like an elf, isn't he? I wonder why."

"I-It's a salve," Dorian whispered. "Women use it in Tevinter, and some men. I...I like being smooth."

"It suits you," Thom rumbled. "All that lovely skin for us to see. I wonder how Con's fur will feel rubbing against it, nothing to act as a barrier between the two of you." The hands moved away and there were a few quiet sounds. "Now, he should have been getting himself ready for you," Thom continued, clearly speaking to Con again. "Let's see if he has been. If he wants to be fucked by you as badly as he claims."

The was pressure against Dorian's hole and then Thom's finger slid in smoothly, all the way until it was completely buried inside. "Oh," Thom sighed happily. "Look at that. He is a good boy isn't he? Look how well he took that." Thom pumped his finger in and out as he talked and after several times, Dorian felt a second finger eased in beside the first. "Took that one just as easily. You really wanted this badly, didn't you?"

Dorian nodded jerkily.

Thom laughed softly. "And we're going to give it to you. Let's see how well you take the next."

This time, Dorian felt the oil drizzled over his hole and Thom's fingers. The third finger was a bit of a stretch, but Thom went slowly and there was no pain. He took his time, rocking his fingers in and out, scissoring them wider and wider. "You're doing so well," Thom murmured, patting Dorian's hip with his free hand. "One more and you'll be ready."

Dorian groaned at the stretch of the fourth finger. He'd taken four of his own fingers before, but Thom had a warrior's hands, with big, thick fingers. And he knew how to use them. When they moved easily, Dorian pushed back, wanting to feel them inside him, relishing the stretch of being fuller than he ever had before.

"Look at him, Con. Look at how well he takes it. I could probably get my hole hand up there." Con actually growled softly and Thom chuckled. "Yes, yes, I know. Not now. I'm only teasing. But I think he's ready for you. Just a bit more oil..."

Thom's fingers pulled out completely, leaving Dorian feeling open and exposed. More oil was drizzled over him, the excess running down his thighs and over his balls, dripping down the length of his cock. He felt Thom stand and walk around, settling himself cross-legged in front of Dorian. He urged Dorian closer, until his arms were folded in Thom's lap, his head turned to the side and resting on them. Thom stroked his shoulders and back. "Are you sure?" he asked quietly. "This is your last chance to say no."

"I'm sure," Dorian rasped. His hole fluttered as he clenched it and his cock bobbed and twitched, hanging heavy between his spread thighs. "I want this."

Thom squeezed the back of his neck gently. "Con," he said, raising his voice just a bit in command, "mount."

Con scrabbled to his feet, nails catching on the blanket as he rushed over. He sniffed at Dorian, his cold, wet nose brushing against his skin and making Dorian jump slightly. Then a long, rough tongue licked him, wrapping around his balls and up over his hole. Dorian groaned low in his throat. "Feels good, doesn't it?" Thom asked, running his hands in soothing motions over Dorian's upper arms, shoulders and upper back.

Dorian nodded as best he could, trying to focus on breathing. Con lifted himself onto Dorian's back, Dorian wincing at the slight scratch of nails as Con's front legs settled tightly around Dorian's waist and his weight settled on Dorian's back. Dorian was glad of the way he was braced. He knew Con would be heavy, he weighed as much as a full grown man, after all, but since he was so much more compact, he felt much heavier than Dorian was used to. "Gently, Con," Thom chided. "We don't want to mark up such a beautiful thing, do we? Give him a minute." Con whined in apology, holding still until Thom told him to go on.

His first two thrusts missed their mark, sliding along Dorian's ass, smearing the oil around. His third thrust, however, was perfect, sliding right into Dorian one on long, easy motion.

Dorian gasped, jerking slightly. Con felt huge, bigger and longer than any man he'd ever taken. He was sudden gripped by the idea that it was too much, that he couldn't do this. "Breathe," Thom urged, as if he could read Dorian's mind. "I know, it feels like a lot, but you can take it. You're safe here, I won't let anything happen to you." He rubbed the back of Dorian's neck. "You're doing so, so well. He's going to start fucking you now. Just stay relaxed."

That must have been some sort of signal, because as soon as Thom felt silent, Con began thrusting in earnest. It was hard and fast, the powerful motions shoving Dorian forward into Thom's solid bulk. Dorian fisted his hands into Thom's tunic, gasping as he tried to hold on.

This was everything and nothing Dorian had imagined. He knew Con would be heavy and warm on top of him, pressing him down, but his short fur was surprisingly soft. He expected the power and strength, but not how small he felt. If Thom wasn't there, Dorian didn't think he'd be able to get away on his own. He wasn't just being fucked, he was being taken, surrounded and filled up until he didn't know where man ended and beast began.

He moaned brokenly and Thom cupped the back of his head with both hands, thumbs stroking over the shaved sides of Dorian's head. "You should see how you look. Absolutely gorgeous. You're taking him so beautifully. Are you sure you haven't done this before?" Dorian shook his head, almost frantic, when Con growled softly. He sounded...possessive?

"Just a natural, then. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You and Con are suited perfectly for each other. I can't wait to see how full he can fuck you. Maybe we should plug you up after? Keep all that seed inside you, let it take root. Imagine you all swollen and full of his pups. You'd look stunning."

"Thom," Dorian moaned, turning his face down into his arms. He knew he was good looking, but he'd never had anyone say things like that to him. To his absolute mortification, he felt tears welling in his eyes.

"None of that now," Thom murmured gently, turning Dorian's face back up. "Don't be shy. I want to see everything." He smoothed the tears off of Dorian's cheeks with his thumbs. "It's too bad Con can't see how wrecked you look. But he can hear you. Come on, sweetheart, let him hear how good he's making you feel."

Dorian let out a choked off moan and then tried to draw a deep breath, letting it out longer and louder than he had yet. "That's it," Thom praised him as Dorian cried out. "He's almost done. Can you feel his knot forming? It should just be starting to catch on your hole." Dorian hadn't noticed, but with Thom pointing it out, he could feel the slight resistance each time Con pulled out and thrust in. He moaned again, shuddering.

"Yeah, like that. Pretty soon, he's going to push into you one last time and then his knot will be too big to pull out. You'll have to wait until he goes down. Con lasts a long time and, with you, I think he'll last even longer. Do you know what's going to feel amazing? He's going to turn once he's ties to you. It's instinct. He's going to turn so he can protect you, so he can keep his mate safe from anything that might harm you. Nothing can ever hurt you when a mabari is defending you. You'll never be safer than when Con is mating you."

As soon as he finished, Con shoved into Dorian harder than before and went still. Dorian gasped, eyes widening as he felt the knot swelling inside him. It felt massive, and he keened when it kept growing. He felt full, so full, and he was so close to coming, so close. All he needed was a little more, just a little more, and...

Just then, Con twisted, dragging a leg over Dorian's back to face away from him. The way his cock moved inside Dorian, his knot catching and pulling on his hole, was exactly what Dorian needed. His cry broke off on a sob and he was coming, hips jerked as he fought to keep them still, crying helplessly as his come pumped out of his cock onto the blanket.

"Fuckin' perfect," he heard Thom mutter as everything went hazy.

When Dorian came back to himself, he became immediately aware of a few things. The first was that Con was still tied to him, standing still and quiet so as not to jostle his knot. The second was that he felt fantastic, lassitude wrapped around him, making him feel like a cat that had spent an afternoon napping in the sun. Not the greatest metaphor he'd ever come up, but he was proud just to be able to think. Sex was usually pretty great, but this...after this, he might just be ruined. He couldn't ever remember coming that hard.

The third thing he noticed was that scant inches from his face, Thom was hard, a tiny wet spot showing on the front of his pants.

Dorian inhaled, enjoying Thom's scent, completely and thoroughly male. Dorian smiled on the exhale and nuzzled his face against Thom's groin. For all that he teased Thom about his smell, when they're weren't in the field, he was scrupulously clean.

"Dorian?" Thom asked carefully. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Dorian purred.

"Stop," Thom said firmly, sliding on finger underneath the collar Dorian was wearing so he couldn't follow when Thom eased back slightly.

"Why?" Dorian asked, honestly confused. "You liked that. Watching me. I can see it with my own eyes. You're about ready to come in your breeches. Don't try to deny it."

"I won't," Thom huffed with a bit of laughter. "But you don't have to."

"And if I want to?" From what he could see and what he'd felt, Dorian definitely wanted to. He'd always liked sucking cock and it seemed like Thom had a cock that could fill him up just right. "Let me. I want to." Dorian craned his neck up to look at Thom's face. Oh. Dorian's breath seemed to flee all at once. Thom's expression was dark and hungry, openly admiring of what he was seeing. "And you want me to."

Thom smiled ruefully. "I'll not deny it, but not right now, not like this."

Dorian felt a flash of anger. "Why? Because I'm being fucked by a dog?"

Thom's brows rose incredulously before his expression turned soft and gentle. "Oh, sweetheart, no." He cupped Dorian's chin in one hand. "I've never seen anything like that. You were incredible. Watching you fall apart like that was a gift. Why do you think I feel like I'm about to burst?"

"Then why?" Dorian couldn't help the plaintive whine. If he'd been so good, then why couldn't he have what he wanted?

"Because this isn't about me right now. It's about you and making you feel good."

"But I want to," Dorian sighed.

"I know, I know," Thom soothed him. "We'll talk later, all right? Maybe next time. For right now, just relax and try to make yourself comfortable. It's only been a few minutes. It'll be a while yet before you can get up."

Grumbling, Dorian shifted his legs a bit, trying not to move too much, and resettled himself in Thom's lap, doing his best to ignore the other man's erection. Thom hummed something under his breath, stroking and petting Dorian like he had been before until Dorian's eyes began to slip shut. He didn't fall asleep, but it was a near thing. He was nudged back into awareness by Thom murmuring, "There's a good boy. Easy now. Gently, there you go," and the feel of Con pulling out of him.

Dorian twitched when the copious amounts of come that had been inside him began to leak out and run down his thighs. "Shhh," Thom hushed him, easing out from under Dorian and helping him lay down before getting to his feet. He unhooked the leash, curling it next to Dorian and then wrapped the blanket around him, lifting him easily. Dorian turned into Thom's shoulder, trusting the other man not to let him fall and Thom carried him out of the stall and up the stairs.

Chapter Text

By the Thom got Dorian upstairs and laid out on his bed, the mage was fast asleep. He was glad of that, for a few reasons. He needed time to think, and he could do that better without any distractions. After making sure that Dorian was comfortable, he went back downstairs.

Con was sprawled out on the floor, idly chewing on a druffalo bone. Thom stopped to pet him, praising him quietly, Con rolling on his back so Thom could scratch his belly. "Good boy," Thom murmured. "I need you to stay down here tonight so I can take care of Dorian, all right?" Con whined and licked his hand. "Yeah, I'll take good care of him."

Standing, Thom quickly gathered up Dorian's clothes and the wooden box he'd left in the stall, and a bucket a water he'd boiled earlier that had now cooled to a comfortable temperature. He carried everything upstairs and set them down as noiselessly as he could. From a small chest of drawers, he removed a handful of soft flannel cloths, and carried them and the bucket of water to the side of the bed.

Taking care not to rouse Dorian, he peeled the blanket back, and then just stared. There was no denying that Dorian was an attractive man, but Thom had never seen him like this, all laid out, his whole body loose and relaxed in sleep. He wanted to reach out and run his hands all over that honey-colored skin, feeling it smooth and supple beneath his fingers.

But he snatched his hands back before they could act on the thought, berating himself silently. That wasn't why Dorian was here. He had come to Thom for something he couldn't get elsewhere, not to be fondled without permission while he was unconscious from being so well fucked. Thom wouldn't betray the trust Dorian had given him for a few minutes of guilty pleasure.

Wetting a couple of the cloths, he cleaned Dorian, moving him just enough to get every trace of come and oil without waking him up. He made sure to touch Dorian no more than necessary. When Dorian was clean and dry, the blanket eased from beneath him, Thom covered him up with a light blanket. It was a warm night, but Thom wouldn't leave him exposed like that. It wasn't right.

Setting the soiled cloths aside, Thom regarded the sleeping man in his bed and thought about what he was going to do. He had never brought one of his men up to his own bed after Con was done with them. He'd always preferred to keep it contained and separated, so lines couldn't be blurred, so that his men couldn't confuse what they were feeling with how Thom took care of them. But with Dorian, they were already unclear. He was a friend, as much as Thom had friends these days, yet unlike anyone he had ever known.

Dorian was a passionate man, in all things. He lived and fought with everything he had, pouring every ounce of himself into everything he did. Thom hadn't thought sex would be any different, but, Maker, he'd never seen anything like that. Dorian had been breathtaking. Once his initial nervousness had faded, he'd thrown himself into the experience, enjoying it in a way Thom had never witnessed before. It made him feel...

He couldn't name the emotion. He wanted to keep Dorian like that forever, keep him safe and protected, happy and blissful and...

Fuck. It wasn't Dorian getting confused that he needed to worry about, apparently.

Thom forced himself to step back and think with brutal honesty. He knew what Dorian's preferences were. Everyone knew what Dorian's preferences were, but not once in all the time that they had known each had he ever spoken to or about Thom like that. What had happened downstairs was something brought on by the heat of the moment. It was likely that Dorian, in his state, would have offered the same to anyone. Thom could not, would not allow himself to think it had anything to do with him in particular, and he would not betray Dorian's trust by acting upon his own desires.

Squaring his shoulders, he padded around, putting things away. He carefully removed the collar from around Dorian's neck, putting it and the leash aside in a safe place. He already knew that those were Dorian's from now on. He'd get another set to replace them for the others, but whether Dorian ever came back or not, those were his.

With nothing left to do, he retrieved his latest carving project and sat down next to the bed, waiting for Dorian to rouse. His knife skimmed over the wood, dipping here and there to remove small slivers. The wood hadn't told him what was inside yet, and Thom was in no hurry to rush it. He was content to wait for the wood to speak.

After a time, there was a soft rustle of cloth and he looked up in time to see Dorian opening his eyes. There was confusion in them for a moment as he blinked sleepily, but as he looked around, he relaxed with a slow smile. Thom couldn't help his own in response. He set the knife and wood down, standing and stretching.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

Dorian made a considering hum, pushing himself up and wincing a tiny bit as he sat up. He made no move to cover his naked torso, or gave any indication that he was bothered by where he was and his state of undress. "Rather marvelous, actually. And clean. Your doing, I take it?"

Thom nodded. "I meant to ask, but you were asleep and I didn't want to wake you. I didn't think you would mind. Some men don't like it, but I thought you would appreciate not being left like that."

"Ah, you are correct. Thank you." He looked out the window, brow wrinkling at the still dark sky. "How long was I asleep?"

"Not long," Thom assured him. "It happens. But I didn't want to leave you on the floor, so..." He gestured to the bed.

"Well, that's good of you." He glanced around, spying his clothes. "I should get out of your hair then and let you get your own rest." He slid out of the bed. Thom averted his gaze as he quickly donned his clothes, waiting until he was sure Dorian was dressed before he looked back.

For his part, Dorian now looked equally awkward. "I wish to thank you, Bla--Thom. That was..." He gave a small smile. "That was something I had never dared dreamed of, and better than I could have hoped. Thank you for that."

"My pleasure," Thom said, hoping Dorian wouldn't be bothered by that admission."

They stared at each other for a long moment before Dorian cleared his throat. "Well, I should be going."

"Wait!" Thom grabbed the small box up and handed it to Dorian.

"What's this?"

"Something I give to all my men. You don't have to take it, if you don't want, though."

Dorian opened the box, eyes widening slightly. "What are...?"

Thom reached into the box and removed the necklace. It was a simple thing: a leather thong long enough to be hidden behind clothing and hanging from it a carved mabari tooth, perhaps two inches long. "It...marks you as Con's," he explained quietly. "And serves as a way for others to know their fellows. If you want them to, that is. The choice is yours."

"I'll think about it," Dorian said after a moment. "And the other, ah, items?"

Thom set the necklace back into the box and gestured to the short, fat plug he'd carved, carefully shaped and smoothed and oiled to a silken finish. "If you want to come back, use that for a few days first. It'll ensure you're stretched enough. The bottle of oil is for that. It'll help maintain the wood."

Dorian shut the box carefully. "I will think about it, but even if I don't come back..." He met Thom's eyes. "Thank you. Truly. I don't have the words to express how much that meant."

"Oh, I'm sure you do," Thom said wryly. "But you're welcome. And welcome to come back any time. I'll just need some time to make sure Con can be available for you."

"I...yes, of course." He looked around. "Well, I should be going then. Good night."

Thom stepped back to let Dorian go first, following him downstairs to unlock and relock the doors behind him. He stood there, telling himself that it was nothing but a foolish old man's wish that wanted Dorian to linger longer. He snorted. He was being ridiculous. Snapping his fingers to Con, who bounded to his feet and raced upstairs, he got himself ready for bed, putting out the lamps and folding his clothes before getting into bed.

He tried to get comfortable, Con a solid weight at his feet, and told himself that he couldn't smell Dorian's scent on his pillow.

Chapter Text

Safely back in his room in the keep, Dorian allowed himself to feel the bit of embarrassment for falling asleep on Thom. His orgasm had been powerful, yes, but that was no excuse for passing out on the man. Still, it had been good of him to see to Dorian's comfort nonetheless. He smiled at the thought of just how well Thom had taken care of him.

He'd never expected a man like that could be so gentle and understanding and sweet. His cheeks warmed at the memory of Thom holding him, anchoring him in place so he could fly apart, his husky voice calling Dorian "sweetheart" and sounding like he meant it.

It was a pity Thom hadn't let Dorian suck him off. For the one endearment, Dorian would have made sure it was the best Thom had ever had.

He frowned. Why hadn't Thom let him? Clearly, the man had liked what he saw, but he'd put Dorian off instead of taking Dorian up on his offer. And they hadn't talked about it. Perhaps Thom meant they'd talk the next time he...arranged a visit with Con? Though it seemed a little silly to deny himself if he would let Dorian suck him next time. Especially after going through all the trouble of putting him to bed. Really, what kind of message did Thom think he was sending?

Oh. Unless Thom had no intention of doing anything with him and been putting him off so as to not ruin the moment. It was entirely possible, even likely that Thom's reaction had been involuntary, a simple physiological reaction to stimuli that he had no control over. In that case, he'd been kind in letting Dorian down gently. Cleaning him up and letting him rest had been the actions of a friend, of a caretaker doing their job, nothing more.

Dorian couldn't help but be disappointed in that. He would've liked to explore that unknown side of Thom.

Sighing, he set the box down on his dresser and opened it. The items inside were clearly made by Thom himself and they'd been crafted with care. If nothing else, Dorian was satisfied with knowing that he was worth this effort. He left the necklace where it was for the moment. He wasn't sure yet if he wanted to be marked that way, wanted others to know. Instead, he picked up the plug, mouth going a little dry at the heft of it in his hand. It was surely smaller than Con's knot, but not by all that much. He could see why it would be useful. And since he was still loose and stretched out...

He snatched up the bottle of oil and tossed it along with the plug onto his bed. He stripped, far more quickly than Thom had taken his clothes off, and hunted for a rag so he wouldn't make a mess of the sheets.

Stretching out on his back, knees bent and pulled back, he rubbed some oil into his hole. Yes, still stretched and gaping a little from earlier. His cheeks burned hotly. He wanted that again. It might make him perverted and wrong, but Maker, he wanted that again. He oiled the plug with just enough to coat it, but not enough to drip, and pressed it against himself. It took only a few moments to work it inside, where his body pulled it in almost greedily, closing around the slightly narrower shaft before the flared base.

He left his legs slide down onto the bed, relishing the way it made the plug move inside him. He clenched around it and grinned. Oh yes, he was definitely going to let himself have this.

After a night of sleeping on it, Dorian had come to a decision. That he was going to be fucked again by Con was a given; that conclusion hadn't require any thought. But he had also quite enjoyed the way Thom had treated him. Whether or not Thom had been acting as a just a friend, Dorian had had little enough honest affection in his life that he wasn't going to deny himself when it happened. He deserved better, yes, but better wasn't around at the moment. Thom was, and Dorian fully intended to take advantage of the opportunity presented to him.

The next time Dorian saw Thom, that night at the tavern, he didn't miss the way the other man's eyes flickered down to his neck and chest. Nor did he miss the brief moment of disappointment Thom's face showed when he saw that Dorian wasn't wearing the necklace. Clearly, he'd been hoping for the opposite, which gratified Dorian a bit, even if he wasn't sure why. Still, it would be remiss of him not to let Thom know how much he enjoyed the gifts.

Setting another tankard in front of Thom, he sat down opposite him at the otherwise empty table. "Looking for something?" he asked lightly.

Thom shook his head. "It's your choice. You don't have to answer to me about it."

Dorian took a sip of the passable wine he'd managed to get Cabot to stock. "True. I do want you to know, however, that I'm quite enjoying your other gift."

Thom froze, tankard held to his lips, eyes widening slightly. He managed to drink without choking and carefully set his drink down. "You're using it now?" he asked, voice gone just a little hoarse.

Smiling, Dorian nodded, took another sip, and deliberately shifted on his chair. "I am. I must say, I'm impressed. Your hands are very talented."

Thom's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. "I, uh, thank you," he finally managed, cheeks going slightly pink above his beard, and Dorian tried very hard not to grin at how flustered he sounded. What a surprise. The man was completely unfazed by acts that nearly all would consider depraved, but a little innuendo had him blushing like an untouched youth.

"No, no, I should thank you. I enjoyed the other night, very much so."

Thom smiled, small but genuine, and picked up his tankard again. "That I am glad to hear."

"And I would like to enjoy it again."

This time, Thom did choke. He coughed a little to clear his throat and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "Again? So soon?"

Dorian frowned a little. "Is that so unusual? Who wouldn't want to repeat something like that whenever they could?" Had he overplayed his hand? Put Thom off by how eager he was for it?

"No, no, that's not..." Thom shook his head, trailing off. He looked around them. "This is not the best place for this discussion," he murmured. They'd been quiet so far, their words fairly innocuous. No one was even glancing in this direction.

"You're right, my apologies," he offered quietly.

"No need for that," Thom said, grinning slightly. "Come back in two nights."

Dorian settled back in his seat. "Well, all right then." He dipped a hand into the pouch at his belt and pulled out a deck of cards. "Now what do you say to practicing so at least one of us can beat Josephine?"

Chapter Text

The second time Dorian entered the barn at night, it was without any of the hesitation or nervousness he'd shown the first night. Thom watched as he strolled in, casually shut and locked the door, and then sauntered up to where Thom and Con were waiting.

"Not too early, am I?" he asked.

Thom shook his head. It was full dark out and given Dorian's eagerness the other night, he'd half expected the man to be here sooner. "No, right on time, I'd say."

"Oh, good. I'd hate to disappoint."

Unable to help a small smile, Thom rose to his feet to start getting Dorian ready. "Believe me, you don't."

"Oh, well, that is good to know," Dorian purred.

Thom's hands faltered for a moment before he resumed undressing Dorian, who moved as Thom needed him to, but otherwise was content to let him do all the work. Was Dorian...flirting with him? He dismissed the idea almost immediately. Dorian had a penchant for innuedo with just about everyone. Likely he'd just not been comfortable enough with Thom before to show much that of that side before. Now that he was, Thom could expect a lot comments like that. It wasn't anything to get flustered about.

As he peeled off Dorian's shirt, though, his breath caught. Hanging around Dorian's neck was the necklace, the dark wood and leather a compliment to the man's bronzed skin. Without thinking, he reached out and touched the tooth with one finger.

"I thought now would be an appropriate time to wear it," Dorian said.

Thom nodded. "It looks good on you," he managed. He felt strangely possessive seeing the the necklace on Dorian. It didn't mark Dorian as his, but he was the one who'd made it. He was the one who got to see Dorian wearing it. He was the one who knew exactly what it meant.

Dorian laughed. "Of course it does. Everything looks good on me." He raised an eyerbrow. "Even nothing."

"I'll not argue with that," Thom agreed, bending to peeling to peel Dorian's breeches off, discovering that he wasn't wearing smallclothes as he did so. That shouldn't have been as thrilling as it was, given how he'd already seen Dorian, but he was glad that his beard hid most of his face to cover the blush.

Shaking himself mentally, he set Dorian's clothes down and picked up the collar and leash. "Do you still want to use these?" he asked.

Dorian's eyes narrowed slightly as he thought, biting his lower lip for a moment before he nodded. "Yes, please."

He bent his neck slightly so Thom could buckle the collar, a satisfied little hum leaving him as the leather was pulled tight. Then, as soon as Thom attached the collar, Dorian dropped smoothly to his knees and looked up at Thom with half-lidded eyes.

Oh, fuck, Thom thought, looking down at him. He'd had a lot of men in this position over the years. They were all beautiful in their own way, but never before had anyone struck him the way Dorian did at that moment. He didn't want to lead Dorian into the stall where Con was waiting. He wanted to lead Dorian up the stairs and into the bed and see just how good he could be.

Swallowing hard, Thom tightened his grip on the leash and turned away, carefully tugging Dorian to follow. That was not why Dorian was here, he reminded himself firmly. Thom was here for Dorian's needs, not the other way around, and he couldn't let himself forget that.

But still, he couldn't resist glancing back, watching how Dorian made even crawling look slinky and graceful, and wondering what it would be like.

Once in the stall, Dorian immediately folded himself into position, causing Thom to fumble a little as he secured the leash. When he came around behind Dorian, he could see the dark wood of the plug seated in his ass, the faint shine of oil on it and Dorian's skin. And he was already getting hard, cock starting to swell where it hung between his thighs.

Thom's own cock responded to the sight. Maker, Dorian was going to be the death of him. He knelt behind Dorian, removing the small vial of oil from his pocket and setting it on the floor. With one hand holding Dorian's hip, he grasped the plug and slowly pulled it free. It slid out smoothly, with nearly no resistance, his hole gaping in its absense. For it to have been that easy...

"Have you been wearing it every day?" he heard himself ask.

"Mmhmm," Dorian hummed. "Though not at night. It's too..." Muscles rippled in his ass and thighs and his hole fluttered "...big. Can't leave it in all the time."

Thom's hand gripped Dorian's hip hard enough to leave bruises. He had to close his eyes, force himself to breathe even as his cock grew to painful hardness in his breeches. Dorian really was going to be the death of him. "If you want, I can make you a smaller one. That'd be more comfortable."

Dorian looked back over his shoulder, mouth curling up on one side in a smile that looked an awful lot like a smirk. "That would be marvelous."

"Right. I'll, uh, get started on that." He let go of Dorian's hip and picked up the vial of oil. "I don't think you'll need too much help tonight," he said, talking to keep himself from thinking too much.

"Pity. As I said, you have very talented hands."

Thom stared at the back of Dorian's head incredulously. Did he have any idea what he was doing to Thom? If he were a lesser man, he'd apologize to Con and fuck Dorian himself. But he was trying to not be. So he carefully made sure Dorian was stretched and coated with enough oil, and then stood.

He was about to seat himself on a crate near Dorian's head when Dorian looked up, eyes wide and little lost. "You're not going to..." His hands flexed, like his was trying to grasp something, something like panic beginning to show in his face. Right then, he looked like the shy, uncertain Dorian who'd shown up the other night and Thom berated himself for not seeing through the bravado.

Thom lowered himself so that he was in front of Dorian, once again pulling him close. Dorian's hands immediately fisted into his shirt. "Is that better?" he asked gently. Dorian nodded against his hip, face hidden.

"Ah, I'm sorry, sweetheart," he apologized. Thom stroked a hand through his hair, repeating the motion until he felt Dorian relax. That was his fault. Dorian had responded so well to praise that he should have realized it may have been something he needed rather than just something he enjoyed. As confident as he had been this evening, it had at least partially been a front. Thom had been distracted by his own wants and had almost hurt the man in his care.

"I'll be right here for you," he assured Dorian. "Going to hold you real close while Con fucks you and fills you up." He looked up and nodded to Con, who came trotting over. "You ready, sweetheart? Ready to be good for us?"

"Yes," Dorian moaned, breath hot through Thom's breeches. "Please."

"Just a minute now. Con, mount. There's a good boy, nice and slow for our Dorian. He's been waiting for this. Excited to have you knot him again. Ah, look at how well he takes you. Never had a mate like him, have you, boy? He's perfect like this, isn't he? Open and eager for you, like he should be."

Thom kept up the stream of praise, petting Dorian everywhere he could reaching. hearing and feeling the other man moan and rock against him as Con thrust into him. He was actually a little sorry at how short couplings with a hound were because he loved how Dorian lost himself to it, the way he rocked back shamelessly and begged in broken words for more.

It was only by a fingernail of willpower that he kept from coming when Dorian did, who shuddered as Con's knot grew inside him. The next half hour of having Dorian in his lap was going to be absolute torture.

Chapter Text

While Dorian's orgasm was still powerful, it wasn't quite as all consuming as it had been the first time. Which was a good thing, actually. He was more aware of both himself and his surroundings, especially the feeling of Thom's calloused hands running over his skin and through his hair and the sound of his low rumbling out the sweetest things. The attention and the pleasantly full feelings in his ass were the perfect combination. Humming in satisfaction, he nuzzled a little closer.

What did it matter if this was nothing special to Thom? He was still taking care of Dorian and seemed genuinely happy to do so. That alone was more than Dorian could have expected in Tevinter. There was no shame here, no fear about being caught, just trust between two--dare he say it?--friends.

As he waited, he couldn't help but noticing that Thom was hard, again. His mouth watered slightly. He was already so full and stretched, what would it feel like to be filled from both ends? But Thom hadn't wanted him to last time, and they never had gotten around to talking about it. And while Dorian wanted and wondered, he wasn't about to try and force Thom into doing something he didn't want to. FOr now, he'd simply enjoy knowing that the other man wasn't completely unaffected.

When Con pulled away, Dorian couldn't help tensing slightly. Thom's hands tightened on his arms, hushing him until Con's cock slid all the way out. Then he carefully extricated himself from Dorian, standing to let Con out of the stall. In their absense, Dorian curled up. He was pleasantly tired, and while the blanket was somewhat scratchy, he really had no desire to move. Thom came back and stood over Dorian, looking down at him.

Dorian was moments away from sitting up when Thom bent down and rather effortlessly lifted him into his arms. The blanket wrapped around him prevented Dorian from grabbing for support, but Thom's arms were firm around him, hefting him a little to secure him. Thom had done this last time, as well, and as he carried Dorian upstairs, Dorian wondered if this was something he did for everyone. Somehow, he didn't think so. For all that everyone knew his past, there were few he actually spent any real time with. Bringing them up to his bedroom didn't seem likely. Dorian allowed himself a smile at being so privledged.

He lay Dorian down on the bed and Dorian shifted to get comfortable. Thom's eyes flicked down his body and Dorian couldn't help teasing him a little, stretching and letting the blanket slide off of him.

"I'll, ah, be right back," Thom said quickly and hurried back to the stairs.

Dorian watched him go with narrowed eyes. It may have just been the low light, but it definitely looked like Thom's cheeks were pink over his beard.

Well, then. That was interesting.

Once he was downstairs, Thom had to stop and brace himself against the table. Never had he been quite so...affected by one of his men. He'd been aroused, yes, because watching a man submit like that stirred something in him, but it usually faded quickly. Now, for the second time, he'd found himself not just growing hard, but staying hard. And he still was.

Gritting his teeth, Thom picked up the bucket of water. Nothing to do but ignore it. He climbed back up the stairs, wondering just why Dorian affected him so much. Maybe he'd just been alone too long. Companionship wasn't something he'd sought after he went into hiding. And Dorian was a friend. A rather handsome, interesting, charming friend.

Maker's balls. He was too old to be infatuated with anyone, let alone with a man nearly young enough to be his son. Not the mention the fact that while everyone knew Dorian preferred men, he'd never once expressed interest in Thom, at least not outside of the barn. He needed to forget his own wants and focus on Dorian's needs. Being selfish now would only hurt Dorian. Thom tried to push the thoughts of out of his mind as he ascended the last few steps, but it proved a futile effort as soon as he caught sight of Dorian again.

Dorian was still on the bed, exactly where Thom had left him, but he'd shifted. The blanket had slipped completely off him, leaving him bare except for the collar and leash, the necklace resting loosely against his chest. He lay stretched out, slightly on one side, one arm curled under his head, the other draped along his side, hand resting suggestively on his thigh. His eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell smoothly in long, slow movements. Asleep, then.

Thom couldn't help himself. He crossed as silently as he could to the side of the bed, set the bucket down, and then just looked.

Dorian was beautiful. It was something he'd always known, but like this it was all the more apparent. Quiet and still the way he never was when he was awake, free of all the lavish trappings and adornments he wrapped himself in, Dorian seemed almost too perfect to be real. Rich, smooth skin stretched across a body any sculptor would weep to recreate. Even his dark hair, normally so carefully arranged, merely looked artfully disheveled. He was so lovely it almost hurt.

Thom shook his head, turning away to fetch some cloths. Seeing Dorian like this only emphasized how foolish his own desires were. Dorian deserved better than an old, broken down warrior past his prime. He would take what he could and be grateful for that much.

As gently as he could, Thom moved Dorian so he could clean him up. Dorian sighed softly, moving as Thom guided him, awake enough to be somewhat cognizant of what was going on. He murmured happily when Thom washed the come and sweat from his skin, sounding sleepy and sated. Like last time, Thom eased the blanket out from under him, tucking Dorian in to rest while he tidied up.

He emptied the bucket of water, threw the clothes in a basket to go to the washerwomen, and then unable to take it any longer, snuck into the stall they'd used earlier. With the blanket on the floor and one hand on the wall, he stroked himself off, biting his lip to keep from making noise as he spilled. Breathing heavily, he waited a few minutes and then tucked himself back into his pants, putting the blanket in the basket as well. Then he went back upstairs to wait for Dorian to wake up.

Once he heard Thom go back downstairs, Dorian opened his eyes. He didn't know whether to be be frustrated that Thom hadn't taken what was so blatantly on offer, or impressed that he'd managed to resist. A little bit of both, to tell the truth. For a moment, he entertained the notion that Thom simply wasn't interested, as hard as that was to believe, but he dismissed the idea almost as quickly as it came. His touches lingered just a bit too long, a bit too carefully. And one certainly didn't stand and watch someone else sleep if one wasn't interested.

Well, then, the question was how to go about getting Thom to crack. Dorian frowned, snuggling down a bit more. It would be easier if he knew why Thom was reluctant. Maybe he simply wasn't Thom's type? Always possible. Dorian's frown deepened. That begged the question of just what Thom's type was. Try as he might, he couldn't ever remember seeing the man with someone else, not in all the time he'd known him.

His jaw dropped in shock. Could it be? Had Thom really not been with anyone since joining the Inquisition? He didn't seem the type to seek out clandestine fucks in the dark, and with the way rumors flew, it would have gotten around if he'd slept with anyone. But...that meant years of being alone. Oh, dear. This might require an entirely different plan of attack.

Footsteps on the stairs made him snap his eyes closed, pretending to still be drowsy. He heard Thom move around, followed by the creak of a chair and the faint rasps of a knife scraping against wood. He waited a while and then casually stretched, yawning as he sat up.

Thom was sitting in a chair, carving in one hand, knife in the other. He watched silently as Dorian rolled his neck and slid to the edge of the bed. "Your clothes are there," he said softly, pointing to the chest of drawers, Dorian's clothes indeed neatly folded on top.

"Ah, thank you," Dorian replied, standing up and padding over. Thom watched him, eyes only dropping away once Dorian began dressing. But Dorian caught the quick glances up. He hid a smile. All right, then.

Once he was dressed, he turned to Thom. "Thank you again for a lovely evening."

Thom nodded. "My pleasure." He seemed to freeze for a moment and then quickly put the carving and knife down. "I'll, uh, see you out."

He followed Dorian downstairs, bidding him a soft good night before locking the barn door. Dorian stood there for a moment, looking at the closed door speculatively. Time to find out what was really going on with Thom.

Chapter Text

Dorian was no great master of deception, but he'd grown up in Tevinter. He knew how to watch people without them realizing they were being watched, how to pick out subtext from words left unsaid, how to read body language to deduce true feelings. True, the Herald's Rest was no proper soiree, but that would only help him. After all, his target wasn't known for his abundance of social skills.

His plan was quite simple, really. To watch Thom and see if he could figure out what his reluctance was to do anything with Dorian.

Unfortunately, that meant he would need to abstain from coupling with Con. Probably for the best, really. It would unkind of him to monopolize all of Con's time. There were others who needed him, after all. Besides, he'd been more than satisfied over the past few days.

For all that Thom kept apart from most others, he didn't completely isolate himself. He joined them regularly for Wicked Grace, was present for supper most nights, and spent a fair number of evenings in the tavern. On the surface, it seemed completely normal. It took Dorian nearly a week--shameful, really--to notice that there was a pattern to all his interactions with others. And once Dorian realized what he was seeing, he couldn't believe that he'd never noticed it before.

For all that Thom participated with the others, he always waited to be invited. He would sit in the tavern by himself until invited to join a group. If he missed supper, a casual inquiry would reveal that no one had asked if he was coming. And thinking back over the few occasions he'd missed Wicked Grace, Dorian was confident in guessing that no one had specifically invited Thom to join them that night.

Everything fell into place.

Dorian supposed that he shouldn't have been surprised. Thom had spent years in self-imposed isolation, had lived on the fringes of society in an attempt to escape what he'd done. When he'd joined the Inquisition, he'd kept to himself, declaring with actions if not words that he was separate from everyone else. And when the truth had come out, he'd accepted the shunning of the others without complaint. In the time since, as the sense of anger and betrayal had faded, he'd gradually been welcomed back into life at Skyhold. But he never, ever made the first move, never intruded into groups and activities, always waiting for someone else to make the first overture, to invite him in, and if the invitation never came, he remained on the outside.

Clearly, Thom was good at self-denial. At this point, he might not even have known how to go about asking for what he wanted. But it was clear that he would never take the first step.

Well, if there was one thing Dorian had learned while living among these southern barbarians, it was how to take what he wanted.

And he wanted.

Dorian wanted to do this right. He was aware that Thom had issues--they all did, to various extents--and he didn't want him to feel like Dorian was only offering because he felt he had to or was expected to. He also didn't want to lose Thom's friendship. So he would have to plan carefully to proposition Thom at the best possible time.

He also didn't want any of their companions discovering his plans and ruining the whole thing. He had to be very careful not to alter his pattern of behavior, to carry on as if everything was totally normal.

So Dorian settled in to observe. Now that he knew what he was looking for, the other men who paid occasional late night visits to the barn were painfully obvious. He winced slightly, hoping he hadn't been that conspicuous to anyone else who didn't know what to look for.

The other men didn't monopolize Thom's time. There seemed to be an unspoken pattern of several days between visits, even though it was a different man each time. He wasn't sure how they worked it out. Something to be investigated at a later date. Regardless, he learned that visits were never on back-to-back days.

Another important thing that he noticed was that none of the visits lasted as long as his own had. They certainly didn't linger long enough to Thom to bring them to his bed for any length of time. Clearly, what Thom had done with Dorian was not something he did with anyone of the others, at least for as long as he'd been observing.

While Thom had sent him some curious, concerned looks, he never asked or pressured Dorian about why he hadn't visited again. Not even when a small leather pouch containing the promised small plug Thom had promised--which was, in fact, far more comfortable to wear everyday--appeared on his bed. Dorian appreciated the respectful silence. The absence of any pressure did a lot to reassure Dorian that, no matter to outcome, it was unlikely Thom would hold it against him.

Eventually, Dorian decided that there was no more he could learn from simply observing. It was, as the charming southern saying went, time to shit or get off the pot. Thom would either accept, in which case Dorian could learn if he was as attentive and sweet without Con there, or he would refuse and Dorian would simply have to get the praise and affection when he was with Con.

Telling himself not to get his hopes up to high, that a rejection was not only likely, but expected, Dorian waited until the evening after he'd seen one of the other men leave, and then waited until he saw Thom enter the tavern. He followed quickly, knowing Thom would sit by himself and wanting to get to him before Iron Bull or one of the others invited him to join them.

As he hoped, Thom was tucked away in a corner, mug of ale on the table and cradled between his hands. Dorian noticed the way Thom's gaze fell on him, lingered a moment, and then flitted away. Quickly getting his own pint from Cabot, and before anyone could greet him, he crossed the tavern, dropping into the seat across from Thom.


Thom's eyes widened briefly as Dorian sat down, but he quickly schooled his features back into a neutral expression. He'd counted on being left alone tonight, and he'd been looking forward to stewing quietly in his irrational melancholy with a pint or three.

"Dorian," he said after a moment.

"Blackwall," Dorian answered. He glanced around. "Drinking alone this evening?"

"Yes..." Thom answered slowly, not sure what Dorian was getting at as he'd clearly been alone before Dorian joined him.

"Oh, good. I was wondering, are you free tonight?"

Thom narrowed his eyes at Dorian, who just looked back at him guilelessly. "What do you want, Dorian?"

Dorian pondered the question, taking a sip of his drink before he set it back down. "I was hoping we could go back to yours."

"Oh." Thom sighed, shoulders slumping. "I would love to say yes, Dorian, but Con can't tonight. He just--"

"I don't believe I said anything about Con," Dorian interrupted, raising one perfect brow and looking at Thom pointedly.

Thom felt something painful tug in his chest. He'd been afraid of this, that Dorian would feel the need to reciprocate when not tied to Con. "Dorian," he said gently, "I've told, you don't have to do this."

"I am well aware I don't have to do anything," Dorian purred, leaning closer. "I'm offering."

"And I've said no. I don't want you thinking you owe me this, that it's the price for giving you want you need."

Dorian's expression turned from teasing to irritation. Oh, that had been the wrong thing to say. "Price Owe you?" he snapped. "Of course I don't owe you." Huffing, he pushed away from the table. "I am not having this conversation here," he stated and stalked out of the inn.

"Damn," Thom muttered, watching him go, torn between following and apologizing or just letting it blow over. After a moment, he shoved his drink away and hurried after Dorian, whom he spotted walking quickly toward the barn.

Not wanting to attract too much attention, he didn't catch up to Dorian until the other man was already inside, arms crossed tightly over his chest, foot tapping in irritation. "Why in the blazes would I owe you sex?" he asked as soon as Thom had closed the door.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Thom said carefully. "What you're's not new. Men often feel like the owe me something in return for what I give them, but that's not true. I won't take advantage of you like that."

"Take advantage?" Dorian gaped at him for a minute and then shook his head. Planting one fist on his hip, he gestured wildly with the other hand. "Do not do me the disservice of what everyone else has done and assume that I don't know what I want. I am well aware that I don't need to have sex with you."

Brows furrowed, Thom asked, "Then when you did you try to suck me off?"

"Because I like sucking cock!" Dorian flung his hand out for emphasis. "Maker's breath, is it so hard to believe that I enjoy it? And from when I felt beneath your trousers, I imagine I'd quite like having your cock in my mouth."

Thom felt himself flushing, as well as his cock taking interest as Dorian's words planted images in his head. "I don't..." He trailed off, unsure of how to respond.

Dorian's expression softened. "How long has it been?" he asked softly.


"Since someone wanted you for you? Just you?"

His flush deepened and Thom looked away, unable to meet Dorian's too sharp gaze. He heard the footsteps as Dorian crossed over to him, but still couldn't bring himself to look up, only doing so when Dorian gently nudged his head up.

"You are an attractive man, even underneath all that guilt and self-flagellation. And I'll not deny that part of that attraction is how you treat when I'm with Con, but that's just part of who you are, isn't it? If it were just us, if you took me up to your bed right now, would it be any different?"

"No," Thom admitted.

"Then why is it so difficult to admit to yourself that I might honestly want you for that?"

Thom shook his head, freeing himself from Dorian's light hold and stepping away. "You could have anyone you wanted. You're young and beautiful and..." He cleared his throat. "I don't know what you want with an old, broken down man like me."

Dorian came closer again. "Do you know what it feels like?" he asked, when Thom dared to meet his gaze again. "When I'm on my knees and you're holding me, telling me good I am? How perfect?" He released a shuddering breath. "I know I'm good looking. I've been told that my entire life. But when I'm with you like that, that's when I truly feel important, like I'm something special, something worth having."

"You are." The words were out before Thom could even think to stop them.

Dorian's smile widened. "Then why deny yourself? I want this, you want this. What's the problem?"

Thom turned the question over in his mind. If Dorian was truly serious--and Thom honestly couldn't see this as still being some sort of delusion of deception--would the answer frighten him away?

"Because," he said, reaching out to capture one of Dorian's wrists, "if I let myself have you," he caught Dorian's other wrist, "I don't think I'll ever want to let you go."

Dorian's breath caught, lips parting slightly and eyes widening. "Do you have any idea what you look like?" Thom continued. "The things I say, it's because they're all true. I've never seen anyone like you. You're stunning, exquisite, and I want you, all to myself. But I had no right to that, and I would have been happy with the little pieces you let me have."

"And if I want that, too?" Dorian asked.

Thom tightened his grip, not hard, just enough to squeeze. "You don't know that. You can't."

"Would you stop me from leaving if I wanted to? Hurt me to keep me with you?"

"Maker, never!" Thom shook his head. "Never, I swear, that--"

Dorian stopped him with a kiss. "Then stop denying yourself," he said when he pulled back. "Let us have this. I want to be with the man who knows just how to take care of me, who knows what makes me feel good, who gives my pleasure just as much if not more attention than his own gratification. And I want the chance to return that care."

Thom turned the words over in his mind, hope finally beginning to replace the doubt. "Are you sure?"


In a sudden move, Thom leaned forward, capturing Dorian's mouth in a hard kiss. He gave no quarter, not even when Dorian opened up to him, plundering his mouth until the two of them were breathless. Then he slid his hands to cup Dorian's ass and lifted him, Dorian immediately wrapping his arms and legs around Thom's neck and waist. And then he carried him upstairs.