the picture prompt

[necksock]

the integrated picture prompt meme

FOR ALL YOUR GEN, SHIPPY, SMUT AND AU PIC PROMPT NEEDS

i. COMMENT WITH CHARACTER. INCLUDE PREFERENCES (gen/shippy/smut/au/all)

ii. OTHERS LEAVE A PICTURE (OR TWO OR THREE....)

iii. REPLY TO THEM WITH A SETTING BASED ON THE IMAGES.

 THIS POST WILL BE IMAGE HEAVY AND POSSIBLY NSFW.

 

        link to an image:                                embed an image:                control width and height:
     <a href=IMAGEURL >TEXT</a>       <img src=IMAGEURL>      <img src=IMAGEURL width=500> OR <img src=IMAGEURL height=INSERT>

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dorian pavus ( dragon age )

[underthings]

[undergone]

[doglord]

1, 2, and 3

[underthings]

[ There are plenty of things that Dorian is capable of in this world. In fact, he'd list them should anyone ask. Apparently, what he's not capable of, however, is convincing a silly little Ferelden king to take a short leave of absence. It's troublesome in a way he doesn't want it or even expect it to be. That he has to call in help from various sources and calls in a few outstanding favors and make promises for new ones is a little grating, but he'll get over it. Eventually. Making Alistair pay him back, of course. (In all actuality, though he'll make a small fuss eventually in the pompous sort of way he is wont to do, he'll not expect anything in return.) With Dorian traveling around so much, it's not often they can have a few days in a row of uninterrupted time.

Why a man who complains about hating being king won't just jump at the opportunity to be with his paramour is well beyond Dorian's understanding. The man works too hard and needs a break—he's allowed that.

At any rate, it's a good thing Alistair is friends with a former Crow and they're both friends with one of the most terrifying spies in all of Thedas. It's a simple thing to steal away the king in the dead of night with the right resources.

It's not a terribly long trip to a small cottage on the coast between Denerim and Amaranthine. That Dorian knows how to navigate in the darkness of night along the North Road, speaks of something he doesn't want to focus on just yet. That he knows how to navigate Ferelden is something he doesn't want to focus on at all.

Along the trip, he thinks not to even speak, but decides it too cruel—of course, there's the whole matter of what Alistair is capable of, and Dorian has no intention of being Silenced or Smited just for the thrill of keeping secrets. So, he murmurs sweet nothings in Alistair's ear, though doesn't remove the blindfold or bindings around his wrists. (He also doesn't think he can without cutting them with a knife, but that is neither here nor there.) Most of his focus is left on keeping the carriage steady on the path.

Eventually they make it to their destination and Dorian finds himself positively giddy with the fact he's stolen the king for his own nefarious—albeit it pleasurable—purposes. It's quick work to light the way with fluttering mage lights before getting Alistair out of the carriage and—yes, unfortunately—cutting his hands free. It's not until they're inside with the back doors thrown open wide to let the sea air tumble in and the horizon begins to turn to a orange-pink that Dorian removes the blindfold. Pressing against Alistair's back, chin resting on his shoulder and one arm loosely slung around his waist. ]

Still believe it to be a good idea to stay behind in that drafty, boring castle?

[doglord]

[ Teagan's going to have a fit. That's the thought that keeps circling Alistair's mind through the carriage journey once he realizes that he isn't being abducted by hostile enemies. It had been touch and go there in the beginning, waking to find himself bound and blindfolded. At the time, he'd been furious, desperate to free himself and cut down whoever had had the audacity to attack him in his home. Now, he's relieved he hadn't been able to hurt Dorian. He never would have forgiven himself if he had.

He has no idea where they're going or why Dorian doesn't release him once they're on the carriage, but he sits still and docile for the duration, deciding that he can wait until they're wherever Dorian means to take them.

Teagan's going to kill me. Except he doesn't feel guilty over it. In fact, if he's being honest, now that he know something of what's going on it's actually a little exciting. He's never been abducted for his own good before.

Getting out of the carriage blind and bound is an adventure, but he manages not to fall onto his face or his arse. And once the blindfold's off, he finds himself blinking into the dawn sky, absently rubbing his wrists where the rope had slightly chafed his skin earlier, during his wild, half-asleep struggle. ]

I don't know. [ He's teasing. His smile's audible in his voice. ] There were people to make us breakfast at that drafty old dump.

[ Craning his head around to look at Dorian, Alistair grins, covering Dorian's hand with his own. ]

Teagan's going to murder me. You too, probably. [ He sounds entirely too thrilled by the prospect. ] Maybe we shouldn't go back.

[underthings]

[ For just a few, quiet moments, Dorian stands there with his fingers slotted between Alistair's because he can. It's a silly little gesture, one that shouldn't make his heart beat a little quicker, but it does and he feels ridiculous. Then, he shifts both of his hands to curl around Alistair's wrists, gentle healing magic pulsing from his fingertips to soothe over the burns from the rope.

He makes a noise in the back of his throat that sounds vaguely—actually—disapproving as he tips his head to nip at the juncture of Alistair's neck and shoulder. ]

Oh, to the Void with Teagan. [ He's such an annoyingly grumpy man. Every time Dorian crosses his path, there's always some grumbling remark. Which is why Dorian is always overly kind if only because it burns Teagan. It's a fun little game he likes to play. ] He'll mange to get over the imagined slight, you're allowed to do as you please.

[ Making their way a little further south, his hands slip under Alistair's tunic to track upward against his stomach. One hand settles against the opposite hip and the other goes further up until the tip of his finger can tease over a nipple. The sharpness of his smile can be heard easily in his tone. ]

You're the king are you not?

[doglord]

[ Alistair laughs softly under his breath, an almost silent chuckle, though whether it's because of the way the magic tingles over his skin or the tickle of Dorian's mustache against his neck is anyone's guess. He certainly doesn't know. Though, it's equally likely that it isn't ticklishness that makes him laugh at all, but the intoxication of his freedom out from under the suffocating weight of his unwanted crown.

He tips his head back a little to give Dorian room, shivering pleasantly as warm fingertips wander over his skin. As if his body's trained to react to Dorian's touch, his nipple hardens almost immediately, the heightened sensation as it tightens up prompting a low hum of languorous approval to rumble in Alistair's throat. ]

Am I? [ He huffs an amused breath. ] Some days it feels like being king means obeying all the rules, not writing them myself.

[ Honestly, he doesn't think he's written even one. Turning his head, he noses at Dorian's hair, half trying to kiss whatever his mouth can reach and half simply snuffling around. ]

I don't think I'm permitted to leave the castle without four council meetings, an assembly of the Bannorn, and at least five petitions to... Maker, I don't even know.

[ Of course he's joking. Mostly. ]