"I think it's sweet." Marion Hawke offered a small smile as she observed the Inquisitor and Iron Bull in the courtyard from her perch on the battlements of the Skyhold fortress. She had to admit, her place in Kirkwall had been nice, but she never had a castle.
Cullen Rutherford stood not far from her and regarded the couple stone-faced. "Sweet? You must be the only person in all of Thedas to refer to a Qunari as 'sweet'."
With her trademark smirk, she gave him a sideways glance, "They are sweet. What they have is sweet." Providing the good commander a breath of relief, the woman settled off the battlement's edge in one graceful slide. She knew he hated it went she crouched on the cliff faces of the Inquisition's castle. And, oh, if she didn't like the way he tensed up at seeing her on the precipice of falling to her death.
It was the little things in life, after all…
"I suppose it is good to see that…even in the midst of chaos she can find such happiness." Cullen remarked neutrally just as the tinkling laughter of their good Inquisitor drifted up to them. A dwarf and a Qunari…who would have thought?
"Did you think such things would stop entirely just because the world is simply coming to an end?"
"Serah Hawke," the commander chastised her with the honorific just to get under her skin. He had been far better at adapting to her sarcasm here in Skyhold than in Kirkwall. Being Commander of the Inquisition agreed with the man far more than the calling of Templar life. Although there seemed to be more immediate danger, he appeared more relaxed, more suited to commanding armies and organizing battle tactics – while killing demons and mending rifts on the side.
And Marion deeply enjoyed his charming banter when she coaxed it out of him. "Yes, yes, the world isn't ending – not if we have something to say about it. It is only an expression, Commander." By an unvoiced agreement they began to head back to Cullen's office as the sun set and the couple of their interests also headed back inside.
As the door shut behind her Marion prodded Cullen some more. "Such things like love care very little for timing."
"You believe he loves her?" Heading towards his large desk, Cullen began organizing his paperwork, unnecessary as he was borderline obsessive in the order of his office. Perhaps he realized her handiwork from earlier today? Switching papers out with blanks and moving reports into the wrong stacks? Marion could only be occupied with killing demons and mending rifts for so long before she found herself tempting her favorite pastime: ruffling the good commander's feathers.
Leaning against his desk and well within his comfort zone she answered, "I believe she loves him."
He looked up abruptly at her nearness, astonishment written clearly on his face. "Her and…Iron Bull…"
"Is it so unbelievable? He gave up the Qun for her."
With a shake of his head he went back to tidying. Her nearness seemed to no longer trouble him as it had the first few weeks she joined the Inquisition. Although she wasn't one for personal affection, she did enjoy pushing Cullen's limits by sticking too close to his personal space. "It is surprising, is all."
His nervous tick finally infecting her, she began helping him with his mission, undoing her work from earlier without him even noticing what she had done. Finally, with everything in its proper place Cullen sat back in his chair to stare at her.
"Speaking from experience, Hawke? Finding love in the chaos?"
Frowning she scoffed, "The chaos happened after. And the love didn't last. I've told you Fenris left me years ago."
"Yes," he appeared regretful for bringing it up.
Flicking her wrist as if she knew a spell for sweeping poor news under a rug she said, "It has been some time, Cullen. Thinking of him no longer hurts. And the times I think of him are less and less nowadays."
He arched one golden eyebrow, "Oh? What in Thedas fills your thoughts these days, Hawke?"
She leaned over, one hand on the edge of the desk, the other on the arm of his chair. There, there was that delightful blush! "Do you really wish to know my thoughts?" Her eyes flowed over his beautiful features, lingering on his full mouth and the begging-to-be-licked scar at the edge of it. "Do you really not know who could possibly catch my attentions?"
Cullen swallowed thickly at Hawke's antics. She was a shameful flirt – had tried this same act when he met her so long ago in Kirkwall. Only this time was different. This time she was not tied to anyone, nor was her illusive history unknown to him. This time he was not bound so severely by duty as he had been before, and he certainly hadn't ever been alone with her for the full effect of such sinful temptation.
And she was temptation, in every way possible. A mage, an apostate mage at that, and a figurehead for the entire mage and Templar war – she was sarcastic and actually charming sometimes, too. She managed to drag a laugh from him the first day he saw her at Skyhold, after her initial meeting with the Inquisitor she had hit the tavern with Varric as if it were her home away from home. Cheeks tinged pink with drink she had commented on the perks of Templar robes and their correlation between mages' robes. Although Kirkwall was hell and left him with no fond memories, she did not remind him of his shame for not stopping Meredith sooner.
Quite the opposite, in fact; seeing her reminded him of their efforts to save mages, the last time he saw her in Kirkwall, actually. She had brought them back, convinced the oppressed mages that they would not be ill-treated and she had said she trusted Cullen to keep her word for her. They could have easily fled the burning City of Chains, but because of her faith they had come back to the Circle.
She had more faith in him to change things than he had in himself.
It was why he let her go that night. Why he fought at her side even though she fired lighting, set abominations on fire, and enchanted the minds of their enemies.
However, for how tempting she was, how charming she was, Cullen wondered how much of it was an act. Since she joined the Inquisition, fighting alongside the Inquisitor and bringing about a new sense of morale among the army with the Champion on their side, Marion Hawke kept to herself. She allowed Varric, the old comradery shining through the years that kept them apart, and she and Dorian were terribly close – if Cullen's nerves had anything to say about it. But she strayed from making friends, becoming downright hostile at times with Cassandra (most likely due to her treatment of Varric when she had pressed for Marion's location) and avoiding Cole and Solas altogether. She didn't even bother with Sera's company – she wasn't as funny as she thought she was, or so Marion had confessed to him.
Yet even with her friendships of the dwarf and the mage (one for the sake of history and one for the sake of knowledge), Cullen was the only one she sought out on her own.
He still remembered the day he found her sitting on his desk when he came into his office, her grin splitting her face as she held out a bottle of Tevinter wine, and he distinctly remembering he had locked his office door.
It was not a mystery where she acquired the taste of the wine, and soon Cullen found he didn't mind since it went down smooth and provided a pleasant aftertaste and spice to it. Twice or thrice a week he would find her in his office, whether he locked the door or not, with a bottle in her hand and they would spend the evening passing it off and trading stories or sharing their insights or personal opinions over certain matters and the eclectic group that called Skyhold their home. Eventually they shared their nightmares as they shared the bottle.
And he learned more about this one woman than he ever imagined he would.
As she leaned over him, her hands on his desk and chair and effortlessly crowding into his personal space, Cullen wondered about their talk before – such things like love care very little for timing.
Nothing had gone right for Cullen in that regard. There had been no trysts at the Ferelden Circle, his youth taking his oaths to the Maker held in the highest regard, and no time for love in the City of Chains as his duty to the circle and the unease of the tension between Meredith and Orsino was nearing volcanic proportions almost every day. Here, his focus was to the Inquisition and he had no hope for anything soft or warm in a time of chaos. There was a giant hole in the sky. Monsters and demons walked this plane as if it were their playground.
There had been women, yes, after he left Ferelden. Templar recruits in the Circle and the comely waitresses and barmaids from Kirkwall's taverns when the itch caught up to him. None of them mattered the next day. None of their faces or names remained with him. There had been the two who he had tried to make last, but Cullen was a man of duty and the Templar life owned him unlike most of the others.
He was not a romantic. Most days he had to try his damnedest just to be an optimist.
But with those aquamarine eyes peering so intently at him, Cullen wondered for the first time in his life why not?
Before he could think twice on his actions he took Hawke's chin in a soft grip and pressed his lips to hers. Testing the waters he merely waited to see if she would turn tail and take flight like her namesake.
Marion's eyes widened as Cullen kissed her. It was the chastest kiss of her life, but it did not feel that way. It was as if he were waiting, a predator about to strike. Waiting for what? For her? For the second time in her life Marion hesitated.
When he pulled back his eyes were glittering with mirth as he smirked and the little scar moved with his lips. "Are you faltering, Marion?"
Oh! Her name falling from his lips…it was wicked!
When could it be said that Cullen Rutherford, ex-Templar, Commander of the Inquisition's army was wicked!?
She grinned, finding her center at his joking manner. "Why Cullen, I didn't think you had it in you…"
His hand stroked her jaw as his voice dropped an octave, from wicked to utterly sinful. "Perhaps I am tired of all that talk of yours. Do you have what it takes to back up that damnable mouth?"
Oh! And he could play, too?
She slipped effortlessly into his lap, one knee on each side of him, while she took the arms of the chair and forced him to move his hands elsewhere – like her hips. "Commander, are you sure you know what you're getting into?"
His amber eyes were alit when they flicked to her mouth and back to her gaze. "I know exactly what I'm doing, Marion."
"Good, so no regrets in the morning." Her lips grazed his with each word.
Sucking in a breath, he groaned, "None." Then he pounced; his kiss was ravishing and hungry and it was all hot and heady and made Marion's head spin with the delicious way his tongue coaxed and tangled with hers.
It was maddening how good of a kisser he was. Maddening and utterly wonderful! She was ashamed to say she pulled away first for air and that hardly stopped him as he trailed down her throat to lave at her pulse point, sending little shocks of pleasure down her spine.
Not to be outdone, she took his ear lobe between her teeth and nibbled and sucked until he gasped.
"Have you ever been with a mage?" she whispered into his ear. He groaned before he shook his head.
She pulled back from him so she could look him in the eye. It was embarrassing but it needed to be said between them. Especially because it was him. "I won't lie; there might be some wayward magic involved."
He frowned and it did nothing to make the way he was panting any less intriguing. "What do you mean?"
"It all depends on the mage and how good the sex is." She explained, rubbing against him. She really did not want to talk at all, but Cullen deserved to know now and not feel it later. That had been her mistake with Fenris. "I've accidentally set things on fire before."
One eyebrow arched, "You're kidding…you're not!"
His shock tickled a smile onto her lips. One hand combed through his golden curls as she stole a kiss from him before she continued. "I was young – inexperienced all around. I've gotten a handle on my magic since then.
"I'm telling you this because you're more sensitive to magical energies. You'll feel my aura against yours and I don't want that to disturb you." She grinned as she brushed her lips against his ear again, "I promise it won't hurt."
The last thing she ever wanted would be to hurt this man.
His hands were of their own mind as they pushed and pulled the fabric of her tunic. On the days they met they chose to forgo their armor for the sake of comfort when they drank and talked. Cullen wondered how long it would take them to divest their clothes and find their way to the loft above his office.
But those words…her magic…loose…depending on how good the sex is…
His mind raced with all the things he wondered that would undo her – which made him question if he wanted to experience Marion without any control. Setting the sheets on fire could be a poor health choice and if nothing happened to them then it would have to be explained when he had to replace the sheets.
"I promise I won't hurt you."
And that was a promise he believed as strongly as he believed in the Maker.
Her magic was a wild thing, raging about the battlefield and consuming the demon hordes as if it were a pack of wolves under her control. Even seeing the way she used her magic, at Krikwall and while with the Inquisition, Cullen could not bring himself to be concerned. She knew what she was doing – and she didn't need a washed up Templar telling her how to live her life.
His cheek pressed against her, he sighed as he remembered the way she came to him after the worst of the Lyrium withdrawal. He had thrown the delicate case of his vials against the wall and when he looked up he saw her there – perched on the edge of a chair across his desk, her blue-green eyes alight and captivating.
He talked; she listened. When he collapsed in exhaustion she had rounded the desk to stand behind him and put her hands on either side of his neck and let her magic weave through the tension there. As the muscles relaxed under her touch, she moved over his chest, through the thin tunic he wore when the fever and the chills seized him. For hours she stood vigil as she soothed him with magic – her magic.
No. Cullen did not fear Marion's magic.
He relished the idea that he could possibly make her lose control.
"Let's keep the sheet burning to a minimum." He said and he felt her relax as she offered a quiet laugh. "Is there anything else I should know? When was the last time you lost control?"
She pulled back to watch him with a smirk. "Back at Kirkwall, before Meredith went psycho-red-Templar-part one on our asses." With a sigh she told him of her pervious lover, the elf, Fenris. He had abhorred magic and yet they had been drawn to one other. The first time they made love it had been rough – each seeking something and taking from the other. He had no previous memories before the ritual that gave him his glowing tattoos and she had spent too long with the weight of responsibility on her shoulders for her family's sake to take up a lover.
"After he left I realized there were cracks in the stone walls behind the bed. About the size of my fingers," she laughed "It could be something like that, something we hardly notice at all."
"Or you could set the bed on fire." He smirked because he knew it drew her eye to the scar at his lip.
"I suppose…" she leaned over and he kissed her just as desperately as before. They pulled back once only to meet again with her hand in his hair and both of his fisted in her tunic. When breathing became an utmost necessary, Marion laughed again as she leaned back, "We won't know until we try, right?"
He groaned and suddenly stood to balance her on the middle of his desk, the only empty spot. A quick pull and her tunic was on the floor. They latched onto one another but he didn't just take. To the ques of her small sounds of pleasure Cullen learned, and used his knowledge to the best of his abilities.
It had been a long while for Cullen, as well. He had not gone to the Blooming Rose with his Kirkwall Templar brothers. He had no desire to stray from the place the Maker had put him, no need to question Him. That made for too many lonely nights. And the last woman he had really tired to woo had been years – back before the Qunari had been driven out of Kirkwall by the very woman he in his arms.
The feel of Marion with him, above him, around him, her hands combing through his thick hair and her little tongue tracing his scar – it was more than he could dream of, more than the Fade could give him.
At one particular mewling moan, Cullen managed to finally relieve her of her breastband, one hand already unlatching her boots. When one was cast aside Marion pushed slightly against his chest, halting him immediately.
In his next breath his tunic was ripped right down the middle with the little carving knife she used for her crafting. Her name came out as a growl as she laughed at his displeasure and attraction. Seizing the blade he struck it into the edge of the desk before he removed her other boot.
"I'll buy you a new one," she promised as her nimble hands stroked his exposed chest, slipped over his shoulders shoving the ruined material away. He threw the ruined clothing off him as if offended it had separated him from her body.
"If you promise to rip that one, too," He reasoned just before he began licking her perfect nipples to little peaks as his hand stroked and caressed her.
She laughed again, more breathily than the last as she tossed her head back, long black hair spilling down her back and over his desk. With a hum she considered, "That would mean you plan on this happening again."
He stilled, frozen by the thought that perhaps this was a one-time deal to the woman. Maker…it had been awhile for him…he had not considered that there was more to their relationship than the physical aspect. Of course, to him it was so much more as their long talks around the fire proved. Yet he had not asked Marion what she was purposing before he kissed her…
"Commander, are you sure what you're getting into?"
No…he didn't. He really had no idea.
Marion frowned as Cullen pulled away. She tugged on the hair at the nape of his neck to meet his eye and he looked so damn scared she immediately hated herself. Cullen was so different than Fenris. Their relationshipwas nothing of her and her pervious lover's. How could she have assumed he understood her?
She cradled his face as she smiled at him; she had to fix this now. "Is that what you want, Commander?"
"Speak plainly, Marion." That smart frown, his Templar-scowl he had no idea he still wore sometimes as he was training his men, or listening to Josephine babble about the Game, or when Sera jested a little too far.
"This could be a one-time-thing," she began earnestly as the smile faded and she felt him tense again as she stated things openly for him. "Or," she continued and she could tell he was listening, "we could try to see where this goes. Who knows," a shrug of feigned nonchalance, "you might be utterly disgusted should my aura rub against yours that you swear off sex for the rest of your life."
A startled laugh forced the tension away. "I highly doubt that to be the end result." She brought his head to her shoulder and stroked his hair away from his face. At a length of time he finally stated his side, "I would like for this to not be a flight of fancy, for either of us."
There it was…his intentions…with more tact than the Commander had shown thus far. The smile crept into her voice as she stroked her lips against his temple.
"I would like that as well, Cullen."
The sound of his name seemed to have mended whatever tear she unintentionally made.
Then they were kissing again, his hands pinching and plucking her nipples with skill that delightfully surprised her. She sought more warmth, his arms around her, his scent in her lungs. It wasn't long before Cullen lost what sense he had and pushed and pressed until the Tevinter Wine she brought earlier upon her visit crashed to the stone floor.
She caught the sound but Cullen continued as if he were deft to all but her moans of pleasure and giggles of delight. He swiped a hand across the desk, toppling his carefully organized stacks of parchment and bottles of ink.
When she tried to get the usually immaculate Commander of the Inquisition's attention to the mess, he chuckled darkly – the sound of all her darkest pleasures manifested – before he brought his lips from her bellybutton to her ear. "You will be helping me clean up."
She laughed out loud at his bold command, which spread to Cullen as he huffed his own mirth into the skin at her shoulder. It was so refreshing to laugh with him. Fenris had been so intense – their lovemaking just so. This was different.
Wonderfully different.
And suddenly all thoughts of Fenris fled at the strokes of Cullen's large hands, the smirk decorated with his white scar, and the sharp cinnamon scent of his aura.
Cullen did not get them to the loft. The desk suffered from the extra weight and Marion's fingernails once, but that was the extent of the first bout. Her magic had brushed against him, soothing and calming and faintly smelling of mint in its wake. There was no fire, no earthquake, no lighting from the heavens, not even so much as a chilly breeze. It was comforting in a way sex had never been before.
From the desk they made their way to the worn rug in front of the fireplace – Marion had stoke a roaring blaze once more before they started to know one another again. There Cullen took his time learning more about Marion Hawke. He identified the soft sounds she made that indicated deep pleasure. He cataloged the twists and turns and archs of her body signally when she was begging for more (without words because Marion never begged) and when she was too sensitive to continue. He studied Marion Hawke in the same obsession he studied battle tactics or the strengths and weaknesses of his enemies.
Satisfied, she liked to be stroked, not to arouse, but to smolder. She enjoyed sensuality. He found that he liked to touch her as well. Even after a second round that left them agreeably sated he liked stroking the flushed skin of her shoulder, down to the crook of her elbow, continuing the path to her wrist, and reversing course to do it again.
Her pleased sounds stirred him, but not to the point of that intoxicating, furious craving. It was intimate without the volcanic passion that put men into a frenzy. Honestly, it was amazing. A slow, pleased purr if he were so inclined to describe it with words.
And yet, still no scorch marks on the rug. No cracks in the ceiling. Just the hint of mint mingling with their sweat and lust in the air. He did like the sensation of her magic caressing his mind, not intruding or prodding but a stroke that soothed as well as enveloped. He liked the feel of Marion's magic, much as he had on the day she comforted him at his lowest.
And yet – hadn't she said…if the sex was good…?
So…maybe it wasn't?
Marion's hand suddenly took his that had been drawing circles around her breasts. "Your thoughts are too loud, Cullen." She murmured softly as she turned closer into his chest. "What are you thinking about?"
Aquamarine eyes pierced him and he found he could never lie to those eyes. "I see we are intact. No wayward fires."
She smiled warmly as she closed her eyes and snuggled against him. "It appears that needn't be a worry." There it was…he must have tensed or muttered an oath because Marion pulled back to lean over him. "What?"
He blushed and she found it still as charming as before. Even after getting naked and riding him hard he still blushed. It was nice to see the Commander of a reliable sort.
And yet, as he avoided her gaze she wondered if maybe…maybe he was blushing for entirely different reasons. She was satisfied – oh was she! But had it been as nice for Cullen? She hadn't been a needy or selfish lover – not with him. They had taken their pleasure but he had shown her how to give just as well. Not quite a skill set that was natural to her; perhaps with practice, with Cullen it would be.
Dare she say it had been…sweet.
And there were very few things in Marion's life she could label as sweet. Bethany's infectious laugh. Mother's soft humming before Father passed. The first rose after the wet winters of Lothering. The day she brought home Pebbles and the pup snuggled up with her in her bed. Most of those things were things she'd never have again, turning the sweetness of her memories. Now…Cullen made it to that short list.
And yet…he turned away from her, his neck and face flushed in embarrassment, maybe it had only been so for her.
She sat up completely, sitting next to him as he lay back with a hand rubbing his jaw with nerves. "What?" she demanded again, feeling foolish now the longer he left her with no answer.
"I'm sorry, Marion."
Oh! She wished he wouldn't say her name like that if he were only going to break her!
"I thought…I mean…With you it was…" he cleared his throat and she sighed.
Again…a man she cared for was going to do this to her again. It's not you, it's me. I can't remember my past until we have sex, and then I do, but then we stop and then I forget all over again… And I can't…
She was a fool.
He was talking, stuttering in his nerves and she knew she was going to have to take it like a champ. She was going to have to endure the walk of shame and they were going to be distant and awkward around each other and then the whole Keep could have a good laugh at the inept Marion Hawke.
And she was going to lose a friend. There were so few in her life when once she had been surrounded by them.
"Marion…" he sat up slowly as he caressed her cheek.
And he was going to be so damn chivalrous about it, too. Wasn't he!?
She slapped his hand away and he did not touch her again. "Did you hear what I said?" Turning away she gathered her tattered pride and tried to stem the tears that pricked her eyes. "Marion…I'm sorry it wasn't good…"
Gasping she turned on him and he leaned away from her with a startled expression. "What?!"
"I-I thought you didn't…" he scowled again as he cursed under his breath. "Maker's breath."
"Cullen! How could you think…We…It was…" and she suddenly thought of Fenris…it was fine…No…but this wasn't Fenris. Cullen was apologizing…not running away.
"For Maker's sake, Cullen," she sighed a weary laugh and shook her head. A fool, indeed. "It was fantastic! I mean…what made you think it wasn't?"
He gestured with that fine blush staining his neck. "The fire…" he shook his head. "You said if the sex was good…"
And this time she laughed out loud. The tears from before streamed down her face as she placed a hand on his broad shoulder to steady herself.
"Oh Maker, Cullen!" she giggled and at his stunned expression she leaned over and kissed him soundly. "It was great! Better even!" he still looked slightly unconvinced. "I swear on Andraste's flaming sword, it was…" and here she kissed him softer as she stroked his jawline and scalp, dare she say…"wonderful."
"Then…why…"
"Cullen, I said it depended on the mage and how good the sex was. Just because it was good sex doesn't mean I'll set the Keep on fire." She shook her head, "Maker take you! Is that what you thought I meant? No, Cullen, no.
"That time with the fire, it had hurt. The boy was quick and nervous and I was tense and kinda new to the whole thing."
"You were a virgin?" his hand took one of hers and he kissed her knuckles as she talked.
"Yes…my first time…and I was like nineteen – not even at Harrowing age." He continued to kiss and lick and caress her fingers as she went on.
"That night with Fenris…the sexual tension was at its peak and we had both been out of practice. We were selfish and rough and it wasn't…" she shook her head. It probably wouldn't do the man's pride any favors if she told him their night had been sweet.
"With you…" for a moment she thought about it. He hadn't been gentle the whole time, nor had he been caught up in his own pleasure. Cullen was attentive…
"With us…" Cullen prompted with a smirk.
Her eyes caught on the scar for a moment before she smiled. "I feel safe with you, Cullen."
He watched as the walls began solidifying themselves in her eyes at this sudden display of vulnerability. And he wouldn't have that. She was strong, had suffered enough. Marion Hawke deserved something good. The Maker take him – Cullen knew he would do all within his power to make it so.
He hoped he lived up to the expectation.
"Come here," he leaned back and held out his arms. Smirking, she obliged and sat between his stretched out legs. One strong arm wrapped around her shoulders, pressing her back to his front. The other hand stroked her ribs, her belly, her hips, and thighs. He kissed just behind her ear before he finally knew how to phrase what he wanted to say.
"Marion, you are unlike anyone I have ever met."
"Oh, I do like where this is going."
But he wouldn't let her laugh her way through her vulnerabilities. "I know you've been hurt before, that you have suffered more than any one person should." Her voice failed her and her body stiffened. "But know this: I will try my damnedest to keep you safe." For a long moment he stroked and held her as she silently contemplated his words. He offered her the chance to do so, giving her a moment as he had her face away from him.
For a very long time they said nothing. Their bodies sharing warmth and comfort, as Cullen continued to trace runes along her arms and she stroked his thigh almost absentmindedly. For the first time in his life, Cullen believed he had never known this kind of peace with another living soul before.
The Maker thrust their lives together. It was no convenience Marion blew into his world like the whirlwind she was. No convenience they stumbled upon one another once more. A fallen Templar, an apostate mage, neither of them the person they had been when they first met. Now, here, in this very moment, they were exactly who the Marker expected them to be, for one another.
Cullen wasn't sure of Marion's standpoint on religion, but Cullen believed with his very breath that this moment was meant to happen. And all the heartache they both suffered before brought them here.
They had endured so much pain, but Cullen vowed that Marion would no longer have to suffer so long as she let him stand by her side, and hold her like this every night.
She hated feelings. Andraste help her – she hated feelings. And this man, this gorgeous man, managed to make her feel the full spectrum of nearly every feeling she possessed! May a Tear in the Veil open right now and swallow her whole – she even cried in front of him! A mixture of relief and humor overflowing from sudden fear of rejection perhaps, but tears nonetheless.
Now he was holding her the way no man had held her after sex. Cullen Rutherford was giving her strength and truth and even the privacy to process his oath. A promise like this…it wasn't made lightly and normally she would have thought it to be a waste on someone like her. Broken Marion Hawke, always left behind.
No. Not this time. Cullen was here. Real. Solid. And not running away. He wasn't leaving her for something safer.
She had no illusions the Fade or the Maker could take him away from her, but Marion could be just as strong, just as formidable.
If she were only as brave as Cullen…
Slowly, she turned in his arms. Her bare chest brushed against his and never had Marion merely sat with a man naked as a nug without it leading to or just recently because of sex. None of her previous lovers had been snugglers. She was immensely pleased Cullen was.
His warm eyes shined as he brushed her wild hair from her face.
Suddenly Marion's world shifted as she realized something monumental: Cullen Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisition, loved her. And equally as terrifying: She loved him as well.
"Son of a flaming nug-humper!" she exclaimed without thinking.
"I-I'm sorry?"
Her eyes widen, "Andraste's tits, Cullen!" Her face hid into the curve of his neck. Her face was burning hot, her breathing erratic, her palms sweaty, and her vision blurring as more tears brimmed the surface.
"M-Marion?" his calloused palms stroked her back as he tried to coax her from her hiding place. "What's wrong?"
"I believe you," she whispered into his flushed skin. "And damn it all, I love you!" This was definitely the most embarrassing moment in her entire life! How could she have not realized this sooner? How could it have snuck up on her so suddenly, blindsiding her like this! It was cruel!
That wonderfully sinful chuckle answered her, "Marion, Sweetheart, I can't understand you."
She groaned at the same time a grin split her lips. Sweetheart – Oh! How she liked that. She pulled back and kissed him soundly as a reward. Between peppering kisses she managed to get her message across. "I. Love. You."
As she leaned in to continue kissing him, Cullen pulled back slightly. "I…What?!"
His shocked face blushed and Marion laughed freely, joyously. And she said it again, and again. And she vowed to Cullen and to the Maker to keep saying it so long as he made her feel safe, so long as he kept calling her "Sweetheart."
He nearly purred as he took her in a warm embrace and brought her back to the worn rug. "As you wish, Sweetheart." And he kissed her deeply, sealing his own declaration of devotion, "I love you."
Near the good commander's office the Inquisitor hummed a soft tune of old ancestors and a love that brought them together and kept them apart. Dwarves were famous for their drinking songs and this little ditty was nothing less of a hit at most taverns. An old story of two ancestors bound by love but separated by castes and their meeting and parting throughout their lives like the flickering dance of a candle flame. The actual words were tawdry and suggestive as most dwarven songs were, which was what made them fun, but the subtext of this one was more…
A rumble and grumble like boulders rubbing together came from the large lup in a larger bed.
"Kadan?" the gravelly moan of a man dragged unwilling from sleep pulled her away from thoughtful musings as she drew away from the opened window and closer to the giant that had stolen her heart. "What has you up? I thought I had you thoroughly sated." Even half-conscious he managed to make her blush.
She giggled girlishly; he could bring the most feminine sounds from deep within her. Oh how he knew just what to do to make her feel like the luckiest woman in all of Thedas. "I thought I heard something." She murmured soft as she pulled the thin sheet back up their bodies from its crumpled state by his feet from their extenuating exercises earlier.
After he wrapped his muscled arm around her much smaller body, essentially trapping her in the most delish way, Iron Bull made a throaty sound of acknowledgement. "What were you humming?"
She couldn't tell if he was more asleep than awake and running his mouth on reflex. Regardless, stroking his massive, expansive chest, she smiled, "Something sweet. I'll tell you about it in the morning."