Aroma FOR Siujerkjai.
This had been going on long enough that the Bull could now discern when Dorian wanted sex by scent alone.
Dorian would walk into the tavern and sit next to him at the usual corner. They’d play cards and tip back their drinks, laughing along with whatever stories were brought to the table, no matter who was telling them - Varric or Adaar or one of the Bull’s boys.
Then the mage would reach over and brush the inside of Bull’s wrist against his warm, but slightly twitching fingers.
Dorian wore his cologne like a proper gentleman: just a small dip on his wrists, behind both ears, and in the hollow of his throat. The usual scent he preferred was a mild jasmine. Flowery, but not overwhelming or sweet; elegant in a way that would never really be out of fashion.
But on the nights where Dorian was randy, the cologne he wore bore traces of cinnamon and cloves. The hint of spice filled the Bull’s nose and it burned him in more ways than one. All the while, the sneaky little Vint would just sit next to him, discussing some sort of magical crap with Dalish as if nothing was different. Such a goddamn tease.
The worst part was that no one else seemed to notice the change, or at least they weren’t commenting on it.
“Bull?”
![Film Noir AU by @lonicera-caprifolium for @stickthisbig
(Non-holiday version below the cut)
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