“I simply don’t believe it,” Dorian tells him shaking his head. “No one can make a man come without touching him, Ben-Hassrath mind tricks or not.”

“Is that lightning?” Cullen chokes out breathlessly.

There is nothing The Bull loves more than doing this to Dorian. Laying him out, tying him down so he can’t move, and just pleasuring him until he’s out of his mind with it.

“Dorian,” the other man says reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know what you’ve been doing, but you’ve been doing it wrong."

Dorian can not believe this is happening. When he’d come down to join the Chargers for their evening drinks this time, rather than taking his usual seat next to Krem, his lover had grabbed him about the waist and pulled him into his lap. Dorian had flushed red and the Chargers had broken into a chorus of laughs and hoots. “This okay?” Krem murmurs the question into his ear when the hollering dies down. Dorian is still blushing but he nods. It’s not the first time they’ve done something like this, though he still can’t quite believe Krem wants this, pressed close to him in public, obviously affectionate, despite the watchful eyes of the tavern patrons.

“Well, that’s about my limit, how about you?”

Dorian paces in front of the door fitfully. He clutches the sealed letter in his hand feeling ridiculous. What is he doing? He doesn’t even know if Cullen is interested. It’d just been a throw away line that started the conversation. Something about Leliana and Josephine snickering about marriage proposals at the war table.

Krem sits on his bedroll in the tent and sighs heavily. He’s put this off as long as he can.