#Treysomel Lavellan

[halfblood-fiend]

time to fix the lack of ask thing for ya :D :D how about 10 and/or 36 for whomever you're inspired to write about? :3

Okay, finally getting to this now that my computer isn’t committing soduku…

You know? Even though I said I didn’t really need people to send asks, it still sure was nice to get. Lol. So thank you!

Solidarity.

From the Fifty Ways To Kiss Someone Prompts

10. …desperately

ft. Trey x Dorian (Dragon Age)

“It’s a strange sort of place, isn’t it?” Dorian strode forward and rapped on the icy cavern wall with the point of his staff.

“Easy with that thing,” Trey teased. Dorian felt the weight of the elf’s hand across his shoulders as he clanked by. “You don’t want to bring this whole place down on us.”

“Ha. If I did, would we be free from needed to go further in?”

Trey chuckled as he strode away, but didn’t answer.

The frozen cave the Inquisitor had led them into was not only so frigid it hurt to breathe, but it was damned narrow too. Quite frankly, it made him nervous to think of delving deeper into it at all. One never knew what they might find. And if Dorian wasn’t going to be paid quite handsomely in his tent for this later when they returned to camp, he would have never agreed to follow Trey along on this little sight setting spree. He would have much preferred sitting beside a fire, thawing out frozen fingers around a mug of steaming tea, and perhaps with the handsome Inquisitor himself curled around him as well. Just the thought sent a delightful shiver down his spine. He made a mental note to make that part of his bargain as well.

Just a few more days, Dorian told himself. A few more days and they’d be done with the Emprise du Lion and then he would make Trey swear to never bring him back.

CRACK!

Dorian stumbled back from the rubble falling from the ceiling to his right. His arms went over his head but as fast as it had come, it was over, and the last few stones pelted him, leaving stinging welts where they hit. Coughing and spluttering, he couldn’t see past the swirling dust as welled up from the cavern floor.

“Amatus?!” He hacked his lungs out as soon as the word was spoken, but it didn’t stop him. “Treysomel!”

Dorian rushed towards the wall of collapsed ice and rubble and fell to his knees. Magic thrummed beneath his skin and sparks began to spit around his hands as he grabbed every piece of rock he could reach and flung them carelessly behind him.

When one of them hit something metal.

“Ow.”

His head snapped around so fast, he could have broken his neck, but there, crumpled to his left, was the dusty but unmistakable shape of the Inquisitor.

“Amatus,” Dorian practically sobbed. He scrambled to Trey’s side as the elf groaned and shook shards of ice from his hair.

Pulling the other man into him, Dorian crushed his lips against Trey’s, ignoring the grit and ignoring the muffled protest. Maker blast him, he was just so thankful Trey hadn’t been beneath the cave in. Nothing tasted as sweet as the Inquisitor’s lips on his, nothing.

Trey pushed Dorian off of him and turned his head to dry cough on his hands and knees. Dorian rubbed his back, fretting to himself until the elf could speak.

“I told you not to bring this place down on us,” he choked, “ but would you listen? Noooo. Someone has to poke everything with his staff…”

“Kaffas. I’ll poke you with my staff you no good, son of a–”

Trey interrupted the slew of obscenities Dorian had intended to hurl with his beautiful mouth and Dorian decided that this time he wouldn’t chide him for his rudeness.

36. To give up control

ft. ( @angle0fthegourd‘s favorite OC ship of mine) Space!AU Trey x Vonauk, my Vulcan OC (Starfinder? Technically??)

The shuttlecraft’s lights were turned down as low as they could go in order to conserve power. There was no telling how long it might take the rest of their party to discover the fact that Vonauk and Treysomel were missing from the ship, and perhaps even more time for them to find the shuttlecraft in question. There was ample time to quantify every possible solution to their current predicament. Vonauk had gone over the calculations in their head more times than they could count. Each time, the chances of their survival were slim to none. It would be a close call on whether they would run out of emergency rations or atmosphere first, and an even closer call on which fate would be worse to endure.

Treysomel sighed from his seat beside Vonauk at the command console. In quick succession, his long tinkerer’s fingers typed out a command code before the holographic console powered down entirely. Vonauk’s own hands paused in the air where their own console had just been moments before as Treysomel unbuckled himself from his seat. "It’s a lost cause no matter which way you figure it,” the elf mumbled. “No sense beatin’ around the bush.”

Vonauk dropped his hands to the bulkhead. “No cause is truly lost. If I recalibrate our communications relay and divert power from all nonessential systems, I should be able to maximize the range of our–”

“Give it up, will ya!” Treysomel snapped.

Vonauk arched a slanted eyebrow at him. “While it’s logical to have such an adverse reaction in the face of–”

“Of certain death?”

They frowned. “Our death is not certain yet, Treysomel.”

“Maybe not yours,” Treysomel replied roughly, running his hands through his already mussed auburn hair. He’d been half tearing it out for hours. “But I reckon mine is. Maybe you can live. I’m sure there’s some Vulcan way you can conserve your body’s energy, live for a while without food or maybe even air, but I sure as hells can’t. I’m done for sittin’ out here.”

“Your friends may find us yet.”

Treysomel’s ears flattened close to the side of his head as he considered, and Vonauk watched the play of emotions over the elf’s face in undisguised fascination. Hope, confusion, resignation, fear. Even distraught as he was, he was more beautiful than he had a right to be. Which made the fact he was correct all the worse. Eventually, he leaned back into the seat’s headrest and let his face turn towards theirs. “Ain’t nothin’ for it. Just give it up, darlin’.”

He lifted his hands from his lap and they closed warm and urgent over Vonauk’s, sending a shock of pleasure through their body. Treysomel pulled them towards him and kicked the side of their seat so it would swivel until the two of them faced each other. He leaned forward in his own seat until their faces were inches apart. Vonauk became painfully aware that Treysomel’s thumbs rubbed over the back of their hands, and their face warmed uncomfortably.

The elf gave them a lopsided grin that didn’t quite touch his green eyes. “I don’t think I’d ever get used to the color of your blush… Listen, don’ think too much about it, jus’ tell me goodbye. Like you mean it. Precious time’s a wastin’.”

“Treysomel…” Vonauk wanted to assure him they would do everything in their power to get him out of this. They wanted to tell him help was coming, and that if he just let them man their station, they could ensure his survival. But the platitudes rang false, even before the words ever left their mouth. The others in their party might’ve treated Treysomel poorly because of his dubious upbringing, but a fool he was not. Vonauk had seen that from the beginning. They would be doing him a disservice by attempting to convince him everything was fine. Nothing was “fine.” They had gotten the two of them into this mess, lured Treysomel away because they knew he would do anything to help them, and now Treysomel was going to pay the price for it. Holding a grudge might not be the Vulcan way, but Vonauk doubted they would ever forgive themselves if the beautiful creature before them died on their account.

Not if. When.

“Hey.” Treysomel’s fingers traced Vonauk’s jaw and brushed their temple and they shuddered at the flair of sensation the elf left upon their skin. “Don’ look so worried,” he murmured. “S'not a good look for ya.”

He made jokes, bit out bitter laughter in the face of long odds, in some attempt to ease their perceived suffering. Vonauk’s heart twisted painfully in their side.

“Come on.”

Vonauk searched Treysomel’s face one last time and found nothing but resignation there. “If you would just let me…” but Treysomel’s face said it all. No one was coming. Not on time.

Vonauk closed their eyes and closed the last bit of distance, finding Treysomel’s lips soft against theirs. They had seen so much death in their time and was hardly moved by it, but this…

Why did this have to be different?

The elf grasped at them and when his fingers grazed their skin, they shuddered. And when he eased from his chair and pulled them after him, they let him. He could have this. It was logical to fulfill his final wishes if they could, even if it would mar their soul than they would ever care to admit.

Neither one of them saw the light set into the bulkhead wink from steady red to blinking green with the acknowledgment of their emergency distress beacon.