#M/M bisexual romance

[promptsblog]

A single father whose late wife knew he was bi and accepted him gets a second chance at love when he and his daughter cross paths with a man at a cross-roads in his life.

[forsapphics]

WICKED (2024)

directed by Jon M. Chu

[the-bi-library]

Happy Disability Pride Month!

Here are some books with disabled bi MCs to celebrate the occasion 💖

Books listed

💕 The Faithless by C.L. Clark 💕 Icebreaker by A.L. Graziadei 💕 The Immeasurable Depth of You by Maria Ingrande Mora 💕 The Luis Ortega Survival Club by Sonora Reyes 💕 Forever Is Now by Mariama J. Lockington 💕 Highly Suspicious and Unfairly Cute by Talia Hibbert 💕 Stars in Their Eyes: A Graphic Novel by Jessica Walton 💕 The Disasters by M.K. England 💕 The Secret Summer Promise by Keah Brown 💕 Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao 💕 Scoring a Spouse by Liz Lincoln 💕 Other bound by Corinne Duyvis 💕 Play It Again by Aidan Wayne 💕 Dark Pines by Will Dean 💕 Izzy at the End of the World by K.A. Reynolds 💕 In The Ring by Sierra Isley 💕 Dearly Departed by Heather Novak 💕 Monstersona by Chloe Spencer

[eddiestightywhities]

“Eddie, you do know that I'm—that I'm yours, right?” Buck's eyes are holding Eddie's gaze like the fate of the world is suddenly at stake. “I mean, I'm yours for whatever you want, y’know? ‘Cause there is nobody else in my life that is... that's you, as in what you are to me, for me, and I'm—I just want you to know that I wanna be that person for you, too; need you to know that I am that person, and that I can be whatever else it is you might need me to be. Or maybe want me to be.” Eddie feels like all the oxygen has suddenly been sucked right out of his kitchen. “You—you get that, don't you, Eds?” 

Christopher once wondered out loud about which beast from the animal kingdom, other than human, would represent each of the three of them and their different personalities, and when Eddie had thought about Buck he'd pictured excitable Golden Retrievers and bounding Dalmatian puppies just as much as the next guy. But the proxy creature he'd been more sure of—and more hesitant to admit likening Buck to—was the Hummingbird, with its astonishingly strong heart that beats at something like nine-hundred times per minute (which Eddie knows about because Buck told him, of course).

Eddie has never known anybody quite like Evan Buckley, with his supercharged and forever-bleeding heart that's pinned so earnestly and so prominently to his shirt sleeve that Eddie's sure it's sometimes visible to the naked eye.

Bar his son, Buck is the greatest person Eddie's ever met.

They weren't always what they are now, though, Buck and him. Not back at the very start. But somehow, one day, somewhere along the line, they just—were.

They became Eddie and Buck. Buck and Eddie.

And this… something, that's simmering between them, it's a thing Eddie couldn't put his finger on for the longest time, couldn't quite make out whenever he attempted to look at it, trying to parse it out and see it for what it really was. It's an emotion he hadn't thought he'd be able to describe, even if he'd wanted to. A brand new feeling for Eddie's collection that he felt forming in the space behind his ribcage, something that bursts forth whenever Eddie looks over to Buck on the job, or at weekends when they take Christopher for days out at the park or the zoo, or whenever Eddie thinks about Buck when Buck's not around. Buck: this long-legged, loyal to a fault smiling guy who has become the best friend Eddie has ever had. Hell, he just feels it all the time. Invisible yet almost tangible, this unnamed something first sprouted like a sapling the day the two of them dug a live fragmentation grenade out of that retired third-grade teacher's thigh, springing up and growing branches that get bigger every day, reaching outward towards the sun to bathe in its warm rays, seeking out life. It grew within Eddie, and it's still growing, spreading out through every part of his life, now, not with the speed or ferocity of a wildfire but a thing similar to climbing roses; slow and steady, delicate yet hardy and strong.

Its true nature has always been just a little to the left of Eddie's range of understanding, though, an almost ethereal thing just slightly out of his reach. For a while, he hadn't dared to examine it all that carefully, or at all. Hadn't known how to, honestly. He now thinks that talking to Frank and embarking on his journey to figure out Who Am I?—trying to find out who Edmundo Diaz is as a person—was probably the start of him working out what this ever-expanding something between him and Buck actually is. 

Eddie came to the conclusion pretty quickly after that, that Evan Buckley, this kind-hearted, wide open, supremely loving giant puppy dog of a person with the heart of a Hummingbird, has become his person. Before Eddie even had the opportunity to notice that their relationship had started to change and morph into something different than what it was at the start, Buck had simply become his partner. In all ways, seemingly. Not just at work, but in life. And Eddie—well. Eddie realised at some point that he was somehow, amazingly, now apparently one hundred percent Buck's person, too. 

The only other soul Eddie has ever gotten close to in that way was Shannon, and sadly everything about their relationship had been so profoundly situational. Eddie thought he'd needed a girlfriend in high school, and Shannon was so, so lovely and had wanted to be that person for Eddie. Then Christopher had unexpectedly come along when they were both still so young, and they'd got married because that was the right thing to do, what Eddie thought he was supposed to do. He then ran away scared, by enlisting, and his life ended up spinning out of control and heading someplace he wasn't old enough to have even imagined, a life he'd somehow acquired and felt he had zero control over.

Not that he'd change any of it. There was happiness in the love he and Shannon had for each other, even if it hadn't quite been the right kind of love, and they'd made a beautiful baby together, a beautiful boy. And after coming home to Christopher after his last tour, at long last, Eddie knew he wouldn't, couldn't, be without that kid ever again.

Christopher was and is the one true shining light in Eddie Diaz's messed up life. 

Until Buck. 

Eddie and Buck, they have chosen each other as partners. And as parents, too—that's the truth of it. And they've gotten so close to each other in such a quiet, gentle way that Eddie hadn't been able to see the wood for the trees, it seems, hadn't realised their dynamic had shifted quite as significantly as it has over the years. Infinitesimally, then bit by bit, but so vastly and so dramatically at the same time.

He and Buck are together. All of the time. Because they choose to be. Because it just feels so damn right for them to be that way.  Together, they are what Eddie believes partners are supposed to be.

At some point it had dawned on Eddie that the two of them, he and Buck, had moved beyond just friends and into… that something. Something else. It had just happened so softly and so seamlessly, and with such unprecedented ease, that even after he'd clocked it, he hadn't really thought to question it because it happily became a thing that just was.

Yeah, Buck and Eddie just kind of... are.

Eddie also doesn't know when exactly it was that the grounding touches they so often share became increasingly more frequent, more important to Eddie, and then softer and more lingering, warm and comforting and completely different to the way either of them touches anybody else, Eddie thinks. Buck has been Eddie's person for what feels like forever, but Eddie started to find more recently that this thing in his chest that is constantly reaching out for Buck, this bond, this something special that they share, it was becoming something that pines and wants and needs, something fragile but at the same time something unerringly and amazingly steadfast.

Like the Hummingbird.

They're an immovable thing, Eddie and Buck. They're Buck and Eddie. They're Eddie and Christopher and Buck. And the three of them, together, are the one thing in Eddie's life that is so assuredly grounding, and so real, that Eddie often feels his chest might burst right open with the force of it.

Together, they've become more.

Eddie learned that when you find your way to that person—your person, the one who makes you feel like even when everything really isn't okay, you having that feeling is okay as long as they are here, with you—it's an unwavering thing, an absolute thing. 

The real thing. 

Eddie looks across his kitchen table at Buck, his Buck, right here and right now, and realises that this something between them is the thing that all those poets throughout the ages have been writing their sonnets about. 

Sunshine. Wildfire. Climbing roses. 

This something—this person, Eddie's person, Eddie's Buck—is standing in front of Eddie, having taken root in Eddie's chest while wearing his Hummingbird heart on his sleeve and offering Eddie a share in his sunshine world.

This something; it's a thing called love. 

Maybe Eddie got there first. Maybe Buck did. Maybe it dawned on them both at the same time, but Eddie knows that they both know it now, he knows it with the way all of Buck's love is radiating out of his body and flowing into Eddie's, like a shared life-force or magic or some cosmic shit Eddie knows he doesn't really need to comprehend. 

I'm yours, Buck told him moments ago.

Eddie takes a breath, and begins.

“I'm yours, too, Buck. All yours. It's you and me, man. Together. You and me and Christopher, because I know just how much you love him...” and he doesn't dare add what is the hopefully implied ‘too’ at the end of his declaration, but only because he doesn't know how to say it out loud, just yet. 

Until he very much does, barely a second into Buck nodding and beaming like Texas sunshine and saying, “You do get it,” and Eddie knows absolutely that he can say it, now.

So he does.

“Yeah, Buck. I do. Because I love you, mi Colibrí. I love you.”

Buck surges, becoming that wildfire as he rounds Eddie's kitchen table, their table, and Eddie stands to meet him, his Buck, his unstoppable force, his best friend, his heart, and Eddie's chair is clattering to the floor as they grab onto each other, big handfuls of shirts and arms and faces and napes of necks, gripping tightly and hanging on for dear life because maybe the fate of the world, their world, really is at stake after all. 

Yet stood here in Eddie's kitchen, together, holding each other, Eddie somehow knows they both understand that their world can't actually be tipped on its axis so easily, not by injuries or natural disasters or even The Great Unknown. Buck and Eddie can't be shaken so hard they come apart at their seams because like everything else in their lives, they're in this together.

Eddie and Buck, Buck and Eddie. They'll figure this thing out.

Together. 

Buck is standing so close that Eddie can feel warm breath on his cheeks, a definite panting that mirrors Eddie's, both their chests now heaving with the air that's crackling between them, eyes roaming all over each other's faces and then Buck's baby blue's settle on Eddie's mouth and Eddie's follow suit, and he's amazed at just how pink Buck's lips are this close up and all he can comprehend in this moment is that he doesn't think he's ever wanted a person so much in his entire fucking life, has never felt the pull of want and need and home as strongly as he does right here and right now, for his best friend. His partner. His Colibrí. 

His Buck.

“Buck, I want—” Eddie's yearning is so loud he can't even finish his sentence. 

“Me too,” Buck helps, and he's leaning in a little further, tentatively and so damn slowly that Eddie wants to scream at him to get on with it but also wants to freeze-frame them in amber because this is the moment that he knows, really knows; the moment Eddie has been trying to uncover; the rose bush and its branches, the fire, the sunshine; the moment Eddie finally understands what it is that he feels for this man now in his arms, knows exactly what their something is and what it was all along; the moment Eddie has been unknowingly and unbelievably hoping, hoping, hoping would arrive someday.

Today, Eddie thinks, and he can't wait any longer so he kisses Buck and Buck kisses him back and Eddie knows, then, inherently, that Buck loves him, too. 

[END]

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

inspired by and a tribute to one of the loveliest fics i've ever read: OF HUSHED WORDS AND HUMMINGBIRDS by the hugely talented procannibals on ao3... you should absolutely click the link to go read it and show it all the love it deserves! btw the themes of hummingbirds as a metaphor, plus eddie's question of 'who am i?` here belong entirely to mo (procannibals) and the fic linked that i've just mentioned.

this is also on ao3 HERE (published as 'Today') if you'd like to be so kind to pop across there and leave me a comment xp

[xerith-42]

Y'all will say an m/f relationship is "Yuri to me" and then not even headcanon them as trans feminine you just like calling male characters girl terms and nicknames because you find it demeaning and/or cute

[affinitystoryblog]

kisses

[ghostpoetics]

More about the books, including content warnings and purchase links, can be found here.

[forcedhesitation]

I love that the bg3 guys are all written to have this intense adoration of karlach and lae’zel’s abilities to absolutely eviscerate their enemies. they’ve all got the same taste in women, which is “she could gut the big scary man chasing me, and then princess carry me to safety in her blood spattered arms.” and I respect and relate to that, as a bisexual man myself.

[llamamamarisen92]

Larian won't let Durge and Gortash kiss... but I will...

Warning: Smut, NSFW, M/M, anoose action, explicit, super 18+, just a couple of gay men doing gay men things.

Johim is an insert for Durge. Not the typical dragonish durge. This is my own home brewed overly confident chaotically bisexual red headed half elf.

Gortash and Durge have a... productive business meeting.

The meeting between the three chosen had grown tense. The looks of dissatisfaction from Ketheric increasing as Johim and Gortash worked through their plot. Pointing at this place and that on the map as they figured out the major players they had to either entice or kill to further their cause.

Johim watched Ketheric from the corner of his eye. It wasn't his first choice to bring Myrkul's chosen into the fold. But it seemed Bhaal and Bane needed him for something. They never got a long. The generals little disagreements increasing by the day.

"Ketheric, if you're just going to sit there and pout you may as well go check what the kitchen has prepared for supper."

Ketheric's lip twitched into a snarl at the mockingly sweet tone.

He added further insult to injury as he leaned in with his hand cupped around his ear. "Hmm, what did you say? Nothing?"

Johim turned back and noted the warning in Gortash's eyes. He sighed heavily and continued to listen to Gortash as they mulled over the different paths they could take. Always three steps ahead. They worked together because it was commanded of them. But Johim was delighted to be in the presence of a mind that could keep up to his own.

Their ambitions grew each day as the pieces fell into place.

"You know, I heard that the Grand Duke's steward has tastes that are a bit more exotic. I could always… persuade some information out of him."

Ketheric scoffed, disgusted with the suggestion.

"What's wrong old man? Are you feeling sore because I have two working blades at my disposal?" Grinning as the old elf shifted uncomfortably.

"You act as if the world is merely your play thing. You cajole and seduce but I still have yet to see you sitting on a throne." Venom dripped from Ketheric's tone.

"Oh?" Johim stood up and sauntered over to Ketheric. He ran his fingers delicately along the old mans cheek as his lips were mere inches from his ear. "I'm not the only one here willing to whore himself out for a cause. How many gods has it been… one… two… or three?" Grasping his chin firmly in emphasis on the last word. He forced Kethric to look him in the eyes. All playfulness replaced by calm murderous intent.

"Stop this! We need to work together. If you continue to bicker like children nothing will get done." Gortash tried his best to reason with both men. Johim continued to hold Ketheric's chin, increasing the pressure. "Johim! Please. Stop!"

He pushed the old mans face away, getting up and moving back to his seat unhurried. He took note of the way Gortash's eyes were a bit more heavy lidded than they had been before, looking Bhaal's chosen up and down. A small smile curved at the side of Johim's mouth as he winked.

"Relax, Ketheric! Tomorrow we bring back your daughter. Maybe then you will be in better spirits." Johim's tone returning to it's playful lilt.

---------------

After dinner Gortash washed up before going to his rooms. He was endlessly fascinated by Bhaal's creature. He was not a mindless killer like so many of the murder god's spawn. He was a lion among men. Charming and playful. Domineering. Charismatic. When he entered a room everyone in it instinctively waited upon his every word. His every movement. Gortash was embarrassed to admit he was among those who found special delight in Johim's presence. Secretly of course.

He closed the door to his bedchamber and lit a candle to illuminate the dark surroundings. Nearly dropping the candle when he saw his partner in crime stretched across his bed.

His arms were crossed behind his head. Wearing nothing more than a loin cloth. Lean muscles glistening with oil that must have been newly applied. Gods he was a beautiful man. Kissed by the sun. A thousand freckles that lead his eyes to strong thighs and the impressive length hardening between them. He shook his head a bit, trying to shake the headiness that was taking over his thought process.

"You shouldn't be here."

Johim smiled lazily as he tilted his head to the side. That sharp amber eyed gaze never leaving Gortash's face.

"Why not?"

"It's not proper. We are business partners. Colleagues."

"Well, I have a particularly… delicious proposition for you tonight."

He couldn't keep the blush from his face as he tried to hide the effect this was having on him. He didn't have time to register how quickly Johim moved. Suddenly standing behind Gortash breathing deeply into his neck.

"Gods, I love the way you smell after you've been working in your shop." His arms wrapping firmly around Gortash's waste bringing him in closer.

Gortash was quickly losing control of the situation as the other man caressed the bare skin above his waist band.

"You've been working so incredibly hard, let me take care of you. Just for tonight." His lips pressed against the back of Gortash's neck. Opening his mouth so his tongue could caress the sensitive skin. His hand now slipping beneath the waste band.

Gortash knew this man would be his downfall. It's not as if he hadn't thought about it. And Johim had not been subtle about his interests. But all thoughts of breaking away left when he felt a strong hand gently wrap around his cock. He leaned into Johim at that moment, pressing his back against hard abs as he let him continue his ministrations until he to was fully hard.

Smirking, Johim moved his lips along Gortash's neck. Nibbling on his ear before he used his other hand to guide Gortash's face so that he could capture his lips with his own. Triumph flooding him as the Banite finally surrendered.

"Tonight, dear one, Bane will not be the only god that possesses your body." At that he firmly pressed Gortash forward until he was laying on his stomach across the bed. Gortash's eyes filled with a mix of desire and trepidation as Johim crawled between his legs, using his thighs to spread him wider.

Gortash's breathing grew heavier, grasping the sheets as pleasure coursed through his body. Johim grabbed the blade that was always strapped to him. His dagger which had been encrusted with one of the three netherese stones. He used it to slice into Gortash's pants before placing it down and ripping the fabric with with his bare hands.

A ferociously lustful smile wide across his face as Gortash was now bare beneath him.

Johim leaned forward so that his lips were mere inches from Gortash's ear before he lined himself up with Gortash's rear entrance. "I'll try to be as gentle as I can." And then he took Gortash in one thrust from behind, firmly wrapping his hand around to stroke Gortash's cock to the rhythm of his thrusts.

Gortash's cries of pleasure and pain carried deep into the night. Johim proving himself once more a conqueror of men.

[forsapphics]

WICKED (2024)

directed by Jon M. Chu

[the-bi-library]

HAPPY BI VISIBILITY MONTH!!! 🩷💜💙

I wish all bi folks a very pleasant bi month!

Here are bi books of September!

Books listed:

💕 This Spells Disaster by Tori Anne Martin 💕 In the Ring by Sierra Isley 💕 Those Pink Mountain Nights by Jen Ferguson 💕 The Darkest Stars (The Broken Stars #2) by Kristy Gardner 💕Daughter of Winter and Twilight (Queen of Coin and Whispers #2) by Helen Corcoran 💕 Time to Shine by Rachel Reid 💕 Herc by Phoenicia Rogerson 💕 Fly with Me by Andie Burke 💕 Everyone's Thinking It by Aleema Omotoni 💕 A Crown So Cursed (Nightmare-Verse, #3) by L.L. McKinney 💕 This Dark Descent (This Dark Descent, #1) by Kalyn Josephson 💕 Providence Girls by Morgan Dante 💕 Wolf, Willow, Witch (The Gideon Testaments #2) by Freydís Moon 💕 What Stalks Among Us by Sarah Hollowell 💕 Thank You for Sharing by Rachel Runya Katz 💕 Cities of Women by Kathleen B. Jones 💕You, Again by Kate Goldbeck 💕 Double Exposure: A F/NBi Enemies to Lovers Romantic Suspense by Rien Gray 💕 The Fractured Dark (The Devoured Worlds, #2) by Megan E. O'Keefe 💕 Cover Story by Valerie Gomez 💕 The Spirit Bares Its Teeth by Andrew Joseph White 💕 The Death I Gave Him by Em X. Liu 💕 Better Left Unsaid by Tufayel Ahmed 💕 Dearborn by Ghassan Zeineddine 💕 A Green Equinox by Elizabeth Mavor 💕 Salt Kiss (Lyonesse, #1) by Sierra Simone 💕 The Amazing Alpha Tau Boyfriend Project (Alpha Tau, #1) by Lisa Henry

Make sure to check the TWs for all books if necessary 💕

Here is the goodreads list of these books

[thedisabilitybookarchive]

'The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue'- Lee, Mackenzi

Disability Rep: Addiction (MC), Seizure Disorder/Possible Epilepsy (LI)

Genre: Historical Fiction, Romance

Age: Young Adult

Setting: England, Europe

Additional Rep: Bisexual Male MC x Gay Biracial Male LI, Asexual-Aromantic Female SC

For more information on summaries, content warnings and additional tropes, see here:

[dontpeevemeoff]

Poly Golden Trio Short Fic Rec

Bed and Board (8585 words) by Resonant Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter/Ron Weasley Characters: Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley Additional Tags: Romance, First Time, Threesome - F/M/M, Polyamory, Don’t copy to another site, Bisexual Male Character, Look it wasn't an au when it was written Series: Part 1 of Bed and Board Summary: Harry finds his place in the postwar world.

[opal-apparition]

Wicked Grace, Wicked Night - OpalApparition - Dragon Age: Inquisition [Archive of Our Own]

Summary:

One kiss to settle a bet, one night to settle years of templar-mage tension… in which the Knight-Commander of the Inquisition is terrible at cards, but as Dorian discovers, his other skills more than make up for it.

Excerpt:

“I can’t kiss you.”

“Why? Because I’m Tevene? Ah. Because I’m a mage?”

Because he was a man.

“I don’t have to prove anything to you,” Cullen retorted, though his voice wavered slightly.

Dorian leaned forward, resting his chin on steepled fingers. His rings caught the firelight from the hearth as he fixed Cullen with a gaze that seemed to strip away armor, what remained of his clothing, and pretense alike. "And yet here you are, knuckles white around your tankard, looking like I've just questioned your honor on the battlefield." He gestured expansively, addressing the table. "Our Commander faces demons and darkspawn without flinching, but suggest he kiss a man from Tevinter and suddenly he's as skittish as a chantry sister at her first confession."

The table erupted into laughter, each chuckle hitting Cullen like a smack from a training sword in the yard. Heat crawled up his neck and bloomed across his cheeks, the bite of humiliation mixing dangerously with the fire of the ale in his belly. He glanced around, desperate for an out, but found only amused faces staring back. Even Ellana… Maker… even the Inquisitor, Ellana, was hiding a smile behind her cards.

That did it oddly enough—that and the way Dorian touched him, touched Bull, touched everyone—something snapped inside him. The alcohol surging through his veins whispered that he had nothing to prove, and everything to prove, all at once.

"Fine," he growled, the word wrenched from deep from his chest, battle ready and sharp, fueled by lost hands and liquor. His chair scraped the floor, clattering back as he pushed back. The room tilted. Cullen leaned across the table, knocking over his own tankered in the process, his hand clawing into the front of Dorian's ridiculous stupid silk shirt, yanked him in hard, and kissed him full on the fucking mouth.

The taste of that expensive Antivan brandy that Dorian liked to sip on hit him first, then the heat of his lips, how alarmingly soft they were against his own. Dorian made a startled noise—then melted into him like it was inevitable, like maybe he’d planned this all along, lips parting for a second just long enough, to let Cullen forget what he was trying to prove. The Commander hadn’t expected softness, and his head spun. Dorian’s mouth gave easily beneath his, too easily, like they’d done this before, like it was already known. Should it’ve been this easy?

Dorian made a sound, hands coming down to grip at his shoulders for support, and Cullen snarled into it, grip tightening with a yank so he could claim the mage’s mouth like a conquered territory.

The mage skipped a breath, caught off balance. The Templar attacked.

It was supposed to be quick. A laugh. A way to shut Dorian up and prove he wasn’t some blushing novice.

It wasn’t.

When they finally broke apart, the table, no half the tavern, was deathly silent.

Cullen’s breath came ragged, his face burning—it should’ve been a joke. It was supposed to be a joke, just something to shut Dorian up and appease Sera’s drunken demands. But Cullen could still feel it—the imprint of it, the shape of lips against his own and hot breath and tongue—like the air itself hadn’t caught up yet.

And Dorian? Dorian looked delighted, his shirt rumpled and askew but otherwise looking quite breathless and ravished. Pleased, even, not shaken or affected at all, like he’d just been waiting for Cullen to get there on his own.

“Well,” he said, his voice lilting, lush, languid. He licked his lower lip with idle satisfaction, gaze flicking over Cullen’s face like he was cataloguing a particularly fine mistake. For a moment, instead of polished and prim, Dorian looked unsteady, tethered in place only by the Knight-Commander’s own grip. “I… I stand corrected. You’re not entirely virginal.”

“I—”

Reeling, Cullen’s grip stayed tangled in the mage’s shirt because letting go might make it worse—could it? Was that even possible? Dorian hadn’t stepped back. He hadn’t shoved him off. He just stood there, watching, lips still parted, and Cullen had the sudden, unmoored instinct to bolt. His pulse hammered loud in his ears, all fight, no flight, nowhere to go but forward.

“Are you going to let me go now, Commander, or is it my turn to show you how to actually kiss a man senseless?”

The room erupted into chaos.

Sera was the first to recover, her voice rising above the din with a gleeful, “Look at you two! Tongues and everything—who knew Commander Uptight had it in him?” She slammed her hands on the table, nearly toppling her drink. “Varric, you should write this down! ‘The Tale of the Templar and the Tevinter’ sword crossing n’all that! Sounds like one of your smutty serials!”

Bull raised his glass with a roar of laughter. “About damn time! Next round’s on whoever gets them to kiss again. Quick, deal out another hand.” His single eye gleamed with mischief as he leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking under his bulk.

Blackwall, ever the pragmatist, muttered under his breath, “I thought this was supposed to be a card game, not matchmaking,” though he didn’t move an inch from his seat, his eyes flicking between Cullen and Dorian with mild curiosity.

Ellana, meanwhile, sipped her rakia with one brow raised, her lips twitching in amusement. She’d turned in her seat, subtle leaning into the apostate that was no longer glaring daggers but looking halfway entertained.

Cullen's legs gave way, and he collapsed into his chair, the wood creaking in protest. The flush spread down his neck, across his chest, disappearing beneath the open collar of his rumpled shirt. "What? No. It—it wasn't—"

“Oh, it was,” Dorian interrupted. He adjusted his shirt where Cullen had grabbed him. “Aren’t you just full of surprises. And tongue!”

Cullen opened his mouth to protest, but Sera was already shuffling the cards giggling like a mad woman, her words slurring into a drunken chant. A few more coins clinked when they were tossed onto the small pot in the center of the table. “Truth or dare or shame your grandmare—oh, wait, that’s not it. Truth or dare or… uh… I don’t know, but someone’s got to do something!”

Bull leaned forward, his grin widening. “I vote for another dare. Let’s see if the Commander’s got more where that came from.”

“Absolutely not,” Cullen said firmly, though his voice lacked conviction. “What are you talking about anyway, truth or dare, this was a card game—”

"Oh, please," Dorian scoffed, his silver eyes glinting like daggers. "One little kiss and suddenly the mighty Commander of the Inquisition flees like a startled puppy.”

Sera dealt the cards, half throwing them across the table, and the deck spilled across the table in a messy pile. “Don’t think I didn’t see what you did there, Dorian,” she said, wagging a finger at him. “You’re all fancy words blah blah blah and pretty-boy smirks, but you’re just as red as he is. Admit it!”

Dorian’s composure faltered for the briefest of moments, his cheeks tinged with pink. “Of course. I am just as horrified as the rest of you.”

Cullen’s face was still flushed, but he didn’t retreat. Instead, he squared his shoulders, his voice rising slightly above the tavern’s din. "It was just a dare. Nothing more. No need to make such a fuss about it."

The words came out a little slurred, his gestures looser than usual, his movements were unsteady as he gestured vaguely at Dorian with his mug. Cullen leaned in closer, lowering his voice—though not enough to escape the table’s notice—and whispered something he clearly intended to be snide.

"And you. You act like I don't know when someone's interested," Cullen continued, voice dropping to a husky murmur that still carried across the table to eager, drunk, listeners. "I've got a desk full of marriage proposals. Leliana parades me in front of visiting dignitaries just to 'stand there and look pretty.' And you," he fixed Dorian with an unexpectedly steady gaze, "you think I haven't noticed how you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention?”

He leaned closer, all the drink and the—the heat—making him bold. "I'm not some blushing Chantry sister who's never chased pleasure like you think. The question is what, who, I choose to do about it. If I want to do anything about it. That kiss was passable at best. For someone with your reputation, I expected more."

Dorian’s eyes gleamed, all teeth and danger. He leaned back in his chair, swirling his wine with an air of nonchalance, but there was a sharpness in his gaze now, dangerous and viperlike. “Oh, Commander,” he drawled, his voice smooth as silk. “If you’re that curious about what I can do when I’m being serious and not playing with a new toy, I can give you a proper demonstration. No crowd, no cards, just you and me and a well-locked door.”

He said it like a dare. Just another part of the same game they were already playing. Cullen didn’t flinch. Instead, he grinned—a rare, lopsided smile that made him look almost boyish in its arrogance. It was definitely cocksure.

“Think you’re up for it, Pavus?” Cullen shot back, his voice steady despite the flush creeping down his neck.

Dorian’s lips curved into a smirk. “I’m always up for a good time.”

Read the rest on AO3!

[booksbygray]

✨ Bisexual awakening

🎸 Grumpy sunshine

✨ Best friends to lovers

🎸 Rockstar

✨ Second chance

🎸 Forced proximity

✨ Secret relationship

Read Now

I’m living the dream, playing summer festivals to massive crowds.

My band is on fire, my best friend by my side and we’re on top of the world.

I fell for him in the heat of the summer. I fell for the stars in his eyes.

The way he said my name. I’ll never love anyone the same.

But our story ended when it was just beginning.

Fame gave me more than I could ever imagine, but I’ll forever suffer the cost.

The summer of love and loss would forever be a stain on my heart.

I used to think life didn’t come with second chances, until we’re reunited for a world tour as dual headliners.

Only he thinks I’m happily married, when in reality, my life is crumbling.

My team won’t let me announce my divorce, leaving him to believe I’m off limits.

We gave up on forever and I’d give anything for another shot at love.

Read Free in KU

[lgbtqreads]

Fave Five: Bi/Bi M/F Romances, Part II

For Part I, click here. You Made a Fool of Death With Your Beauty by Akwaeke Emezi Check Your Work by Skye Kilaen A Merry Little Meet Cute by Julie Murphy and Sierra Simone A Lot Like Adios by Alexis Daria Truly, Madly, Deeply by Alexandria Bellefleur