Vallaslin and Necromancy

The Descent

*Contains major spoilers for the end of the Descent DLC*

Soft dripping echoed through the cavern, an incessant sound that never stopped as it continued in time with the pulsing lyrium on either side of them- visible even through the layer of his eyelids.

Dorian grit his teeth, unable to find an iota of sleep in the unfamiliar, hard cavern. The only comforting thing was the soft warmth pressing against his chest, the sound of quill on paper that paused every so often to make way for a gentle clanking or rustling paper. 

A breath escaped him, and he gave up on the faraway notion of getting some rest, instead readjusting himself and pressing a kiss to the inquisitor's hip bared by the loosened armor.

"Can't sleep?" he murmured, absently brushing back a lock of white hair behind his ear as it fell into his vision. He didn't glance at Dorian, distracted with the small journal open on his knee and the blood-stained gears on the ledge next to him. His staff lay propped next to them, frost dancing loosely through the air around it.

"Much too much rock, and not enough wyvern down mattress," he grumbled, shifting to find a flatter surface for his side.

"You've slept in much harder places," he noted, adjusting his crossed legs to brace a gear on his knee.

"Well, yes, I suppose so, but not bloody underground in a place that no living soul has set foot on besides some magical dwarves."

Nickolas paused at that, finally glancing down at the man he was using in substitute as a backrest. A small, affectionate smile tugged at the edge of his mouth.

The crashing of waves became audible through a break in Bull's snoring, and Dorian loosely threw a hand in its direction.

"Forgive me. I forgot about the ocean hundreds of miles beneath the surface. How could I have forgotten that?"

He paused, sighed as he let his head fall back on his arm. He was sure Nickolas could see his uneasiness, though he didn't address it, instead giving the Tevinter mage some semblance of pride.

"At least try again," he urged, closing the journal on a finger to mark his spot, letting his free hand move to comb through the mussed black hair at the top of Dorian's head. "Here," he offered, warmth moving away and leaving Dorian achingly empty for a moment before he found his head pillowed against a thigh that was only mildly more comfortable than the rock it was on before. A sigh, though Dorian let his body relax into his lover, let the tension bleed from his muscles with each gentle tug on his hair.

Soon enough, he found himself in a light doze, slipping away into unconscious sleep at a moment unregistered in time.

Dorian woke short after, head lowered onto the rock for a moment before something warm curled around his body, breath tickling his collarbone before he fell asleep again.

The second time he woke up, it was with a startled jerk that was hardly the most comfortable way to wake up the man in his arms.

Nickolas woke with a soft gasp, lightning sparking against his fingers as Bull crowed:

"Time to get moving, lovebirds!"

Nickolas went limp, long fingers curled in Dorian's collar as he let his eyes flutter shut, smile twitching at his mouth.

"C'mon," Varric called, tightening his armor from where he stood next to Valta. Dorian let out a quiet moan of dismay as Nickolas pulled away, standing in a smooth flurry of limbs and taking his precious warmth with him.