Signs of Love
—
Maedwyn always reaches for him slowly, savoring every moment it takes to get there. He cradles Dorian’s face with both hands, thumbs brushing the rise of Dorian’s cheekbones, holds him like he is the Maker’s gem.
Often there is no word. Spoken language and the confines of syllables cannot carry the meaning he wants. Maedwyn looks at him instead, just looks at Dorian with soft eyes and a close-mouthed smile that is everything between quiet delight and naked adoration.
And then he kisses him.
—
Love Maedwyn like this: catch him by the waist, pull him behind a corner in Skyhold for a quick peck on the cheek. Hear him chuckle in surprised pleasure before they must part way, though not without a wink (the Inquisitor) and a smirk (Dorian), the promise that they will see each other again. Very soon.
Love him like this: kiss his wrists, where the veins mark vulnerable purple-blue lines. Do it gently, listen for the pulse flutter; Maedwyn’s sharp intake of breath and shivering exhale. It takes months to find the weakness, one of the few things on a sturdy, slender, scarred frame that reacts so sensitively – so sweetly.