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"An elf savage!" Ferron scoffed angrily as he paced in front of the grand Orlesian bed. He shook his head and looked back to Dorian, "If I get called 'rabbit' one more time I'm going with Sera's suggestion on how to deal with Nobles." He crossed the room and sat next to Dorian on the bed.
Dorian blinked slowly, "I was going for role playing but I seemed to have struck a nerve." His speech was relaxed and slowed, he had a gentle buzz in his head. Dorian was glad to have some fine Orlesian wine in his system, he found the only bottle that sounded Tevinter-ish and stole away with it. It was the closest thing he felt that was related to home.
Ferron sighed as he leaned into Dorian, "I know, but it irks me. What do they know about elves, other than the men and women they use as servants and slaves." He didn't lose his resolve. Even on the first day of his time with the Inquisition, Threnn had mistaken him as a servant when they first met.
"I quite enjoy the shock on their faces when you walk out after they’ve asked for the Inquisitor. It's even better when they see me by your side." He chuckled lowly as he turned to capture Ferron's earlobe in his mouth. He chewed on it as a playful growl gurgled in his throat.
Ferron was determined to stay angry, but that was hard to do when all he felt was the bubble of pleasure rising in his system. His shoulders relaxed as he tried to continue his ranting, "Now I know how Fereldens feel. The world could be splitting in half and Orlesians would still refuse help from anyone but their own."
"Mhmm," Dorian hummed ever so sweetly in his ear as his lips descended to the curve of Ferron's neck. His hand moved to the other side of Ferron, slowly guiding him to lay flat against the mattress. His teeth grazed along Ferron's flesh. "I love you, you know that right?"
Ferron pressed his hands against Dorian's chest as his head lulled to the side to give him more room on his neck. "You're drunk," It wasn't an accusation, and the light mirth in his voice indicated that.
Dorian chuckled as he gently nipped his neck, "Have I ever told you how handsome you look in a uniform?" He lifted his head and looked in Ferron's eyes, "Or how hot you look out of it?" He spoke in a deep, velvety whisper. Ferron smiled playfully as Dorian dove back to Ferron's neck. His hands curled around the front of the uniform, slipping through the buttons and expertly pushing them undone.
His lips trailed down the front of his chest. His tongue glided over Ferron's nipple before continuing down to his stomach. The elf groaned deeply as he pushed his body up, into Dorian. His teeth grazed over Ferron's taut abdomen, relishing in the way his skin tightened and stretched under his mouth. He dropped to his knees and pulled Ferron to the end of the bed by his hips.
He slid between Ferron's thighs, his hand pushed over the forming tent in his breeches. His mouth followed his hand, applying pressure with his tongue that made Ferron close his legs around Dorian's head. "I'm so glad you asked me to speak to you in private, Amatus." He curled his fingers around the hem of Ferron's pants and started to slide them down his legs.
Ferron's fingers pulled through Dorian's dark hair as a mix of a chuckle and a moan pushed past his lips, "I do have good ideas now and again." He felt Dorian's hot breath brush against his skin and the fog he loved so much began to set in his mind. He sunk into the pleasure, forgetting about all the political nonsense that permeated this event.
Right as Dorian's mouth closed around him, the warning bell for the ball began to ring loudly. It scared Ferron, he jerked upwards as Dorian's hands formed light claws on his chest, pushing him back down. "Dorian - I have to - go, I have to go." His voice was breathy and unfocused.
Dorian kissed his lower abdomen as he gasped the words against Ferron's skin, "No you don't." It was an inviting command, and it danced delectably in Ferron’s mind. He could just stay here, finish up and go out later. How bad could things possibly get? The bell rang again, sounding more demanding than the first.
"Oh, Creators - Maker - whoever . . ." A deep groan rumbled in his throat as Dorian sucked on him lovingly, creating shallow curves in his cheeks. His nails grazed over Ferron's arched ribcage. His hands curled around Dorian's hair, stuffing the strands between his fingers. He curved further off the bed and pushed into Dorian. "I want to stay - I do, and you're not hel-helping. I have to save Or- Orlais."
Dorian wouldn't stop, and Ferron knew that Josephine would have his hide if he didn't come back and Celene's life was still was on the line. Still, in the moment, Ferron thought that those items of buisness could wait - even if he secretly knew they couldnt.
He sat up reluctantly and placed his hands on Dorian's shoulders, pushing him back and away. He slid off the bed to stand on his knees in front of Dorian. He pressed their lips together and kissed him with a silent promise. The bells struck again. A final warning.
"I have to go - but I promise we will finish this." He was already pulling on his clothes and working mentally to calm himself down. He kissed Dorian's forehead as he stood on his feet. He was about to speed walk away but Dorian wrapped his arms around his leg and kept him in place. He kissed the inside of Ferron's knee before he let him go.
"Hurry back, Amatus. One man can only do so much before he desires company."