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[samahl]

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[fantachetic]

[ Dorian is a bit surprised by the question, though he does take a few moments to consider it, looking at his wine as if it holds his answer. ]

Rivain. It's some place I've yet to travel. Somewhere along the Rialto Bay, perhaps..

[samahl]

I would love to see more of Thedas. Rivain, Antiva, even Tevinter.

Though I suppose I'll see it soon enough.

[fantachetic]

Should you decide to visit Tevinter, I will have to insist upon being your guide.

[samahl]

[Cyril chuckles gently and then leans against Dorian a bit, nudging him very lightly. He doesn't want to jostle him so it's mostly just a sign of affection.]

I'm sure I'll happily stay with you. At least it would be a pleasure to see your face every day.

[fantachetic]

[ It's certainly a sign of affection, and if Dorian leans into the nudge just a bit, he deigns to ignore it. He huffs lightly in mock indignation. ]

And why wouldn't it be? It is quite the sight to behold, after all.

[samahl]

You've been making one valid point after another, Dorian. It is indeed. Perhaps one of the best faces I've ever seen.

[fantachetic]

I've been working on it for quite some time. [ He absolutely preens, taking another drink from his glass. ]

I am in good company in that respect.

[samahl]

It's good to know that we appreciate each other's faces. I wouldn't mind appreciating more of you.

[fantachetic]

Where would you like to start?

[ Bold, surely, but he's a very selfish man who has no qualms with being worshiped. ]

[samahl]

[Cyril lets his gaze move over Dorian's body rather openly.]

Let me answer that with a question: Where would you be willing to let me start?

[fantachetic]

[ Leaning closer to Cyril, he speaks lowly into his ear. ]

Consider me at the Inquisitor's mercy.

[samahl]

[Cyril really can't resist that voice against his ear. It makes everything in his body tingle.

He turns his torso before he can convince himself not to, facing Dorian.]

A dangerous place to be...

[His voice is low. He doesn't let himself think. Instead, he leans forward to kiss Dorian.]

[fantachetic]

[ Turning toward him is about all the permission he needs before Dorian slides his hand up Cyril's leg, fingers gripping his thigh as their lips press together. Perhaps it is a dangerous place to be, but he's not known for being cautious, and neither is Cyril. A bit of risk is as much a part of them as their proclivity toward the same gender.

When he pulls away, it's with a warm smile and a hum. ]

I like a bit of danger.

[samahl]

[Cyril smiles back at him.]

A man after my own tastes.

[He presses his lips against Dorian again, pouring desire into the kiss. He lets the kiss last longer now, enjoying being able to taste Dorian after thinking about it for so long.

He pulls back after to breathe after a long while. He trails his hand over Dorian's chest as he does, enjoying being able to touch as much as taste.]

I want to see all of you.

[fantachetic]

[ The wine sits long-forgotten, a deeper thirst being sated for the time being, drinking in the physical contact. Dorian's sole focus is on the way Cyril's lips feel against his own, soft and pushing back, seeking more. He's more than happy to oblige the man, truly. Dorian opens his eyes, slightly dazed from their bout of kissing, but ready for more. Whatever he's given will be treated as a gift.

Nimble fingers brush over his chest, and his hand reaches to wrap around Cyril's, dragging it to the first few clasps of his attire. Let him start there while Dorian can shower him with more kisses along his neck and jaw. ]

Only if I may return the favor.

[samahl]

[Cyril tilts his head and relishes the way that Dorian's mouth feels against his neck and face. He loves the way his mustache trails along his skin, enjoys the warmth of the contact.

His fingers begin working to unclasp Dorian's clothing.]

I'm afraid I'm not what I once was. [He mutters, somehow feeling a bit awkward at the idea that Dorian would see the scars on his arm.] But I would be willing to share all that's left with you.

[fantachetic]

There's more than enough of you.

[ To him, this is all of Cyril, and he wouldn't have it any differently. Missing an arm doesn't mean anything other than he survived something terrible and came out on top. Dorian works on Cyril's shirt, bestowing a kiss on his exposed skin as he does. He plans to kiss every inch by the end of the night. ]

[samahl]

[It's surprising how reassuring that is, and how it feels as if it fills his chest up with warmth. He doesn't want to dwell on emotion that deep, though. He prefers to let Dorian undress him and kiss him, still relishing on the way that Dorian's mouth feelings against him.

His hand moves to the back of Dorian's head, settling into his hair. He doesn't push him to do more than he's willing, but there is a sense of encouragement in the touch.

He doesn't speak again and instead hums gently as Dorian starts his mission to kiss his skin. He helps with the undressing as much as he can. For the most part, his skin is pale and unblemished. He has lean muscle in his arm and chest from his time as an archer. When they get to exposing the ruined arm, he still seems a little nervous, but not enough to ask Dorian to stop. Solas had tried to make the amputation as painless as possible - a mercy towards a friend - but there is still scarring around the wound. It seems more like a sign of the touch of magic than a poor surgeon though.

While Dorian gets him exposed, he works at the clasps and buckles Dorian wears. It's not as easy as removing his tunic, even more as he works with one hand, but there is still that desire to see Dorian's body.]

[fantachetic]

[ The exposed arm makes him frown, but not from the lack of limb. The scarring looks painful, and he gently brushes the tips of his fingers over the ruined skin before placing a reverent kiss there. His hands trail down Cyril's sides as he makes his way to the elf's lips once more. He runs his tongue along Cyril's bottom lip, seeking to deepen their kiss and taste him.

He helps work himself out of his own clothing, discarding it carelessly onto the floor. Dorian can't help but appreciate Cyril's body- he is lean muscle, light skin, and bright eyes. It's hard not to appreciate his beauty. Only when there is need for breath does Dorian pull away, only to speak lowly against his ear, nipping lightly. ]

Tell me what you want.

[samahl]

[The way that Dorian seems to treasure him, even the scarred and ugly parts of him, makes his entire body feel as if it's soaked in need. A part of his mind wonders if perhaps this isn't a dream, because he's imagined it enough times for it to seem like it is.

But then Dorian will touch or kiss him in ways which brings him back to reality, to experience this as fully as possible.

He feels a bit too exposed, but in a way that is blissful and desperate. It makes him a little too honest.]

I want you. I want to know what it feels like to be inside of you, to see you come undone. I want you in any way you're willing to give yourself to me, Dorian. As completely as you like.

[fantachetic]

[ Sex is comfortable. It's familiar, and Dorian knows what he's doing. The only difference is that it takes a little time to really know what makes his partner tick. With how Cyril is responding, he ventures that he's hitting all the right buttons. It pleases him, more than anything, to hear the noises and feel the response under his hands.

Dorian sighs against Cyril's skin. ]

Then I am yours. [ He looks at him with a smirk, punctuating each sentence with a kiss. ] I fully submit myself to the Inquisitor. To you.

[samahl]

[I am yours, he says, as if that doesn't somehow shift the fabric of Cyril's world. But those are feelings and he doesn't particularly want to dwell on feelings when he has a beautiful man offering up himself.

So he chuckles, and shifts to get them both into a more comfortable position.]

Careful, now that you've offered I may never want to stop.

[He says it in a way that sounds like "I'll never want to stop fucking you" rather than anything syrupy. There's a purr in his voice as he undeniably looks forward to exploring every inch of Dorian's skin.

The rest of their night together they spend doing just that. Cyril takes his time so that he can draw out the exploration and the pleasure.

By the time they are finished both are stated and sweaty and Cyril is long past worrying about anything other than how wonderful Dorian feels and how lovely he looks when he's undone.

Eventually, though, the pleasure fades into satisfaction and they have to figure out what to do next.]

[fantachetic]

[ Cyril certainly knows what he's doing, and Dorian has no problem losing himself in the pleasure. Time passes almost in a blur, and he lies there next to Cyril in the afterglow, limbs like jelly and feeling sated. He'll allow himself a bit before dressing and returning to his ship, the atmosphere is quite lovely in the moment.

Dorian stretches his limbs with a happy sigh, before running a hand through his hair to attempt pushing it into place. Rather a lost cause, really, as it flops back across his forehead. He huffs, looking at his bedmate with a scowl that has little heat to it. ]

You've put me in quite a state, I hope you're aware.

[samahl]

[Cyril chuckles, clearly enjoying everything about the way that Dorian looks as much as he soaks up the pleasure of being so close to him.]

That was my goal, yes.

[fantachetic]

I'm not finished being cross with you.

[ He's absolutely not cross in the least. Dorian, at the very least, uses his fingers to brush his mustache back into place. He has to have some form of control, doesn't he? ]

Who knew you had such hidden talents.