The Antivan language and sex on the war table: just two of Bull's varied interests.

Josephine is not a flirt, really.

“Is that lightning?” Cullen chokes out breathlessly.

Kink meme de-anon. Anon asked for Krem/male unwanted pregnancy and promised a castle in northern Scotland if the father was Dorian.

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.

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.

Leliana figures it out first, quite possibly even before Josephine does—and definitely before Cassandra does, but then, Cassandra can be very selectively dense. Certainly she figures it out well before either of them says anything to the other.

For the prompt, "Alistair being consensually wrecked by men as a submissive/bottom." This prompt just will not leave me alone. I feel like this fic should be rated T, and yet, every time I try to pick that, it feels wrong, too. So...despite the prompt, not actually all that smutty.