Written for a tumblr follower as part of my her first place prize in my 300 Follower Giveaway. She requested Cullen smut set in my modern Dragon Age Inquisition AU We've Met Before (you don't really need to have read it to get what's going on but minor spoilers ahead).
Cullen paused from the report he was reading when he heard his personal phone chirp. Digging it out of his pocket, he swiped across the screen, a smile gracing his lips when he saw who had texted him.
[text] Elena: i have a surprise for you ;)
[text] Cullen: Oh? It's not even my nameday.
[text] Elena: are you in your office?
[text] Cullen: Yes. Why?
[text] Elena: cancel your appointments for the next two hours
Amused and curious, Cullen stood, walking to his outer office. When Elena said she had a surprise, it could mean anything from some sort of delicious pastry she's discovered at the local café to a book of erotic poetry she wanted to read aloud to him. Somehow, he suspected she had something closer to the second in mind, given her flirty tone.
"Harding, something's come up and I need to meet with Lady Trevelyan this afternoon," Cullen paused, checking his watch. "Can you clear my schedule for the rest of the day?"
His assistant, Lace Harding, looked up from her computer, "Sure thing, Mr. Rutherford. I'll send her in when she gets here."
Cullen nodded and thanked her before heading back to his desk. He tried to ignore the knowing smile on his assistant's face. Despite his best efforts, it seemed the entire consulting firm knew he and Elena were together. And tongues certainly waged whenever they were alone in his office for an extended period of time, despite the fact that they had been careful about separating work from their personal lives. Well, until today, apparently.
Glancing at his phone, he realized he had another message from Elena.
"Maker's breath," he exclaimed softly when he opened the picture message to see the creamy expanse of a pale chest and collarbones, a white business shirt unbuttoned just enough to show the beginnings of a black lace bra and the tops of perfect, full breasts. His mouth went dry. Cullen would know those breasts—and that shirt—anywhere.
He let out a soft groan as he felt his cock begin to harden in his trousers. What was she thinking? They had joked about fooling around at work, but they'd never actually done anything—too many things could to wrong: someone could walk in on them, being his chief concern. She was still, technically speaking, his assistant after all; he didn't even want to imagine the HR nightmare if anyone caught them.
And it already seemed like Harding was suspicious of his sudden schedule clearing.
Taking a deep breath, Cullen tried to return to his work. If he could just get this report finished before she arrived, he wouldn't feel as guilty about her distraction—whatever it might be. Despite he best efforts, however, he couldn't stop himself from checking his phone every minute or so, trying to see if enough time had passed for him to send her a message and see where she was. He was just about to text Elena when there was a knock at his door.
"Come in," he called, his voice gruffer than necessary in anticipation.
Cullen nearly fell out of his chair when Elena appeared in the doorway. Hands gripping the desk hard enough to turn his knuckles white, cock throbbing almost painfully in his trousers, he raked his gaze over her. She was wearing his shirt again, the white sleeves rolled up to her elbows and top three buttons undone, framing her cleavage beautifully. It was tucked into a black silk skirt that hugged her hips and fell to her knees. Sweet Maker, she was wearing the tallest black heels he had ever seen. Her gorgeous red hair was wound around her head in a braid, haloing her face. She gave him an innocent smile, her red painted lips parting to reveal white, white teeth.
Good Afternoon, Mr. Rutherford," she said brightly, sashaying towards him, the door clicking closed behind her. "I have the blueprints for the Warehouse, just as you asked."
His cock throbbed again, completely stealing his focus away from her words; Elena only ever called him Mr. Rutherford in private when she had something wicked on her mind.
Without waiting for an invitation, she walked around his desk, standing in front of him, where he still sat in his chair. Bending at the waist so that he had the perfect view of her round bottom, she spread the floor plan across his desk. The black lines on the back of her stockings stood out against her pale skin, beckoning him upwards. Cullen's fingers itched to reach out and run his hand over the curve of her hip, but he held himself in check, curling his hands into fists.
She straightened up, "as you can see, Leliana has placed all of her people in strategic positions around the upper perimeter."
Cullen stood, his body brushing against hers, and he felt more than saw the shudder that tore through her at the feeling. With her heels on, she was only a few inches shorter than him, her hips at almost the exact same height as his own. Cullen bit his lip, trying not to imagine what she would look like, bent over his desk, skirt rucked up around her hips, his cock buried to the hilt inside of her. He closed his eyes taking in her sweet, feminine scent, struggling between what he wanted and what he knew was proper. Before he could settle his hands at her hips and pull her close, she stepped away, going around the other side of his desk.
She smiled up at him and winked.
Cullen felt his entire body flush, his cock achingly hard now. Wicked minx, what are you playing at?
He returned her smile, though, calmly as though he wasn't struggling with the urge to grab her by the back of the neck and pull her across the table between them. He smoothed his hand over the paper, reading Leliana's careful red markings, instead.
"I see. I'll make my placements, then," he murmured, reaching across the desk for a pencil, his fingers brushing over hers as he did so.
He studied the floor plan, making notations where he wanted his people inside Cory Feus' production facility. After a moment he slowly flicked his eyes up to look at her. She was leaning over his desk, making every effort to look as if she were examining the floor plan in earnest, but her postured afforded him the same view that she had sent him via text message. Cullen licked his lips, imagining how warm her breasts would feel in his hands.
"You look very nice today," he said, almost as an aside.
"Thanks," she murmured, straightening up. "Important meeting, you know, dress to impress and all that."
"Oh," he arched and eyebrow. "And just who were you meeting?" dressed like that. He wanted to add, but thought better of it.
Slowly, she circled back around his desk, trailing her hand along the surface as she went.
"My boss," She said as she came stand next to him, leaning over her desk once more. She held one hand behind her back, her fingers grazing over his straining erection. "Have you considered placing an agent here?"
Caution be damned, he thought.
Cullen grasped her hip, pulling her between himself and the desk. She giggled as his resolve broke, her game of teasing suddenly over. Her laughter turned to a gasp when he rolled his hips against the back of her own, making his desire for her known. Keeping one had anchored at her side, he pressed the other to his desk for leverage.
"Your boss? His is so terrible that you have to dress for battle when you see him?" He whispered, lips brushing against her ear before he tugged it into his mouth.
Elena's gasp turned into a moan as she ground her ass against his groin, sending hot burning desire straight through him.
"He's a bit of a tight ass, is all," she teased. "I thought if I flashed him a cheeky peak, he might go easier on me."
"Naughty girl. And what would he do if he found us, together, like this?" he asked, planting hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of her throat, his thumb stroking her skin as he held her neck still with one large hand.
"I'd be well and truly fucked," she gasped as he rutted his cock into her.
He chuckled, "one can only hope. Now I do believe you said something about a surprise? Or is the surprise that you're dressed like walking sex today?"
Without replying, Elena smoothed her hands down the side of her skirt, fingers brushing against his as she did so. Slowly, she lifted the slippery fabric, wiggling her rear enticingly against his groin. Up, up, up, revealing the lace tops of her stockings, held in place by a garter belt, higher still, until her pert, round ass was bare to him, framed prettily between stockings, garters, and a lace thong. Cullen groaned as he caressed her skin, relishing the shudder that tore through her at his gentle touches.
"Surprise, Mr. Rutherford," she purred, bending over his desk enough to display her clothed sex.
"Maker's breath," he swore, his hands trailing little circled over her skin as his cock throbbed at the sight of her. "Such a good girl you've been, Miss Trevelyan. I do believe a sizable bonus is in order. But first…"
There was a small voice at the back of his mind what whispered this was a bad idea, that they would be caught by Harding or a million other people who walked into his office every day. But all those protests died in his throat as his eyes roamed over her, bent and bare for him. It was like waving a steak in front of a starving man—he could see the dusky pink of her sweet folds through a screen of black lace and all he wanted to do was touch and kiss and lick. Cullen sank to his knees behind her, his big hands gripping her silk encased thighs, nudging them further apart to accommodate him kneeling between them. Leaning forward, he pressed soft kisses to the dimples at the base of her spine, his thumb caressing the curve of her ass, just along the edge of her knickers. Not wanting to ruin the pretty frame that her garter belt made, he hooked his thumb into the delicate fabric of her thong and tugged it to the side.
Cullen smiled, staring at her with appreciation; she was already flushed and glistening with desire for him. Slowly, he ran on finger up and down her slit, spreading her wetness in his wake.
"You have such a pretty cunt," he murmured, planting a soft kiss against her.
She moaned in reply, her hips rolling against his touch in a desperate attempt to build more friction. Cullen smiled to himself; he was the only man who got to see her like this, bare and begging, the only man who got to worship her secret spaces, to touch her, to taste her.
He moved back and kissed up her thigh, until his mouth hovered over her sex. Reaching his free hand up, he pressed firmly on her lower back, pushing down and exposing more of her to him.
With broad, flat strokes of his tongue, Cullen began to taste her. He moved slowly, savoring the frustrated little whine that escaped her mouth each time he reached the top of her slit and then followed his path back without touching her pink bud. He peppered light kisses against her folds, flicking his tongue against her sweet skin, nipping here and there. She moaned in response and ground her hips against his face, begging for a firmer touch. Cullen chuckled at her impatience before he pushed his tongue inside of her, savoring the warmth that his cock would soon be buried in. He sucked hard, her sweet desire flooding against his tongue. Just when he though she was about to go mad from his teasing, he dragged his mouth along her seam, and fastened his lips around her pearl.
The muffled cry from above him made his cock throb, hardening with insistence. He needed to be inside of her, and soon, but first, she deserved to come.
He flicked his tongue over her bud while he firmly pressed two fingers inside of her, crooking them against her walls. Already so close to her edge, he felt her clench and ripple at his intrusion. Cullen began pumping in time with the pattern his tongue lavished on her pearl. He could feel her growing wetter and wetter, hips bucking wildly against his face as she writhed above him. Curling his fingers in and up, searching for that sweet spot deep inside of her; he sucked hard, his teeth scraping over her as her legs began to shake.
"Cullen," she gasped, and he could hear her nails scarping over the surface of his desk, as her release overwhelmed her.
Her legs clamped down and her hips rolled against his face. Cullen withdrew his fingers, and lapped at her sex as it pulsed and dripped into his mouth, his thumb taking over his lips' work on her clit. He could hear her struggling not to scream.
Fuck. The thought aroused him more than he expected.
After a long moment, her hips began to slow their frenzied jerking and she slumped against the desk, breathing heavily. Cullen slowly extricated himself from between her legs. Standing, he leaned over her, chest flush with her back, propping himself on the desk with one hand. He could feel the heat and wetness of her cunt soaking through the front of his trousers, but he didn't care. He pressed his desire coated fingers to her lips, and she sucked greedily, her tongue laving over his digits, soft moans rumbling at the back of her throat as she tasted herself on him. Fire flooded through him at the sight of it, at the sounds she made. He was so hard, all he could think about was the throbbing, aching need between his legs, and the memory of how warm and sweet it was to be buried inside of her.
"Good girl," he murmured, kissing her hair just above her ear.
In response, she rubbed herself against him causing Cullen to groan in delight. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers from her mouth and stood up, pulling her along with him. He held her close, rocking his hips against her pert ass, driving his clothed cock between her cheeks in a frustrated attempt to alleviate some of his aching need. She shivered in his arms, head leaning back against his shoulder. Cullen began to unbutton her shirt. He stroked her neck, ran his fingertips along her collarbones, dipped them in the valley between her breasts. She shivered again, her skin rising in gooseflesh at his light touch. He stopped his movement just below her bra, toying with the front clasp—Maker's breath, she thinks of everything. He unhooked it, and her breasts sprang free. He cupped them, warm and heavy in his palms, pushing them up and together, his large hands squeezing at her warm flesh. Andraste preserve him but he loved her breasts—loved touching them and kissing them, feeling them against his body, watching them bounce while she rode him to oblivion. They fit into his hands perfectly, creamy skin spilling over his fingers as he kneaded his fingers into them. She moaned softly, reaching up a hand to tug at his curls as he rolled her nipples between his fingers.
"Can you feel what you do to me?" He demanded, driving his hips once more into her ass.
"Mmm, yes," she replied, voice breathy as she wiggled back into his groin. "Why Mr. Rutherford, is that all for me?"
"Every last inch, honey," he chuckled. "All for you, only you."
Cullen brought one of his hands away from her breasts to cup her face, thumb trailing over her jaw as he tilted her head back. Eyes alight, he studied her—studied the flush on her cheeks, the swollen state of her lips—done, no doubt, to silence her cries. There was a wild, hungry look in her bright eyes, a look that made him ache to be inside of her.
He smiled down at her before crashing his lips over hers in s searing kiss. She kissed him back, her mouth hard, and sharp, and wanting. It sent fire roaring through him, stoking higher with each press of her tongue and nip of her teeth. Cullen quickly slipped his hand between their bodies, and undid his belt and zipper. With her help, he pushed his trousers and boxers down just enough to free his cock; it fell between her cheeks, hot and heavy. Fuck. Her body felt so good, so yielding, against the sensitive skin of his length. Rolling his hips, he twitched against her, and she shivered in his arms.
"Hands on the desk, Miss Trevelyan," he ordered, breaking their kiss.
With reluctance, she withdrew her fingers from his hair and turned away from him. Elena stood, legs spread and skirt rucked up around her hips, balanced on her splayed fingertips. Cullen grasped her hip with one hand, fingers curving around the crest of her body. With his other hand he gripped his shaft and stroked the head of his cock down the silken skin of her ass. He pulled her closer, and pressed himself between her thighs.
Maker's blood, she was so unbearably scalding.
She began moving, rotating her hips back and forth, stroking his tip with the seam of her cunt; her desire began to drip down him, coating him and making him ready to enter her. Every so often a little mewling cry would escape her lips as the crown of his cock hit the sweet bundle of nerves above her entrance. Cullen wanted to make her come from that alone.
But the ache in his thighs was insistent; he needed to be inside of her, to be sheathed in her tight heat, stretching her, filling her. Fucking her.
As she rocked forward, dragging the slick slit of cunt over his pulsing crown, he bent his knees. As she tilted her hips back, ready for another teasing, tantalizing glide, he rocked his hips forward, driving her down onto his cock. She cried out in ecstasy, hands scrambling for purchase on his desk at the sudden, throbbing intrusion of his girth. Cullen fumbled, covering her mouth with one big hand, but he was sure Harding had heard. His heartbeat thundered in his chest, where he was sure it would explode. They froze save for the shuddering, aching pulses of their joined sex, and waited.
"Commander, is everything alright in there?" Harding's voice called, not yet opening the door but clearly hovering on the other side.
Panic flooding through him, Cullen began to pull out of her. But before he could, Elena reached a hand back and sank her nails into his hip, holding him in place inside of her. She pushed his hand away from her mouth.
"Everything's fine, Lace! I tripped in these stupid shoes," her voice was high, breathless, but it didn't waver.
As she spoke, Elena slowly began wiggling her hips, pushing herself further down his cock in a slow, teasing rhythm.
"Oh, okay," Harding called, still sounding skeptical. "If you're sure."
"Thank you, Harding," Cullen called, perhaps too loudly, his voice too sharp, as the woman before him seated herself completely his throbbing length, the heat of her cunt enveloping him, making his head swim and vision falter.
They waited a heartbeat more. The door was silent and Elena whimpered, squeezing her walls around him in a silent plea for more. He re-covered her mouth with his hand, as a precaution. Next time we'll use a gag. Taking a deep breath, and gripping her hip in earnest, he dragged himself nearly all the way out of her, the cool air making his desire coated his cock twitch, before slamming back in.
She groaned, her nails digging hard enough into his hip to break the skin.
"Hands on the desk, honey," he whispered into her ear, pulling her clenched fingers from his side and pressing them to the surface before them. "Don't make me tell you again."
She moaned against his hand as he began to work up a savage pace, his hips and cock slamming into her, driving her thighs against the edge of his desk. She would have bruises, beautiful purples and greens that he would later caress and kiss, that she would laugh about and pretend they spelled his name. Now though, she was gasping and moaning against his hand, her tongue, lips, and teeth writing her cries over his skin.
Cullen wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her close and he fucked her senseless. Cock sliding in and out of her liquid heat; she was painfully, gloriously, tight around him, pulling him as he pounded her into his desk. He had to work at it, to leave the intimate embrace between her thighs. She met each of his thrusts with a hard backwards snap of her hips, rutting against him, the sound of their bodies slapping together filling the air. He could feel sweat bead at his brow and run down his back; his muscles burned, ass clenching with each demanding snap of his hips. Fire spread through his body, tearing through him and making every least nerve scream with desire. He could feel his release building in the pit of his stomach, in the ache of his balls.
Cullen leaned forward, kissing her neck, focusing on the salty sweet taste of her skin instead of the inferno burning in his thighs. He pressed his lips up and down the column of her throat, sometimes bruising hard, sometimes feather light. Higher and higher, until he reached her ear.
"Do you feel me inside of you, honey? Do you feel me splitting you?" He whispered, his breath ghosting over her kiss-slicked skin.
She nodded against his hand, her hips rotating in time to his brutal thrusts. He could feel her heat fluttering around him, her response to his voice immediate and gratifying.
"I love this," he continued, panting as his lips scraped against the corner of her jaw. "Being inside you. Filling you. There is nothing more beautiful than watching my seed drip out of that pretty little cunt of yours as you lay in my bed, sated and exhausted."
The sound she made at that, hard and choking at the back of her throat, nearly made him spill right then, but he grit his teeth and continued, his hips rocking against her, his cock dragging in and out of the burning embrace of her entrance.
"Well, perhaps the look on your face as you unravel for me, eyes screwed shut and mouth open wide, calling my name," he closed his eyes, picturing it. "Oh, honey, there's nothing sweeter."
She was shaking, trembling, in his arms, hot puffs of breath ghosting over his hand. He could feel her cunt begin to clamp impossibly tight around him, drawing him in as she tumbled closer to her release. Her legs shook, and he knew she wouldn't be able to stand much longer. Grabbing the back of her neck, he bent her completely over his desk, opening her wide to his cock, as she sagged against the solid surface. His hand still covering her mouth, she came, legs kicking up around him. The sight of her, writhing and desperate, completely and utterly at the mercy of her pleasure sent fire coursing through his veins. Hips frantic in their thrusting, he leaned forward and bit down hard on her shoulder to stifle the snarling growls that rumbled through his chest. She bucked against him, meeting the final thrust of his hips before she drew him in and didn't let go until he'd spilled every last drop of his release so deep inside of her. The world blazed white, burning away until there was nothing but the warmth of her around him, throbbing and aching together as one.
Breathing heavily, he stumbled backwards enough to pull out of her, his head falling against her shoulder. Elena lay prone below him, her breath rising in harsh, panting gulps.
"That was…" she paused, her voice still quiet. "I need to surprise you at work more often."
Cullen chuckled, shaking his head. "You had better not, honey. Poor Harding would have died on the spot if she'd opened that door."
Slowly she sat up, allowing him time to move back to this chair. She was completely disheveled: shirt half open, bra undone, and skirt bunched awkwardly around her thighs. Cullen leaned forward, and beckoned her closer with the crook of his finger.
"Come here and let me put you back together, Miss Trevelyan. You're currently breaking about fifty dress code rules. You don't want me to report you to Cassandra, do you?"
Elena snorted, but scooched forward, shaking her head.
"You're one to talk, Mr. Rutherford, with your cock hanging out of your trousers," she teased.
Ignoring her remark, Cullen stood and hooked her bra back together before he began buttoning up her shirt. He felt her fingers tugging at his belt silently asking him to come closer, and he obeyed with a soft smile. Working quickly, she tucked him back together, before buckling and zipping him up. Cullen was just about to ask her to stand so he could fix her skirt when he noticed one of her shoes had fallen off. Spying its bright red sole a few feet behind his chair, he grinned.
"Allow me, my lady," he said, winking as he went to retrieve it.
Kneeling in front of the woman still perched on his desk, he gently slid the errant shoe back onto her foot, his fingers teasing at the back of her ankle as he did so. Cullen smiled up at Elena and pressed a kiss to her shin.
"If you could stand, please. I'll fix that troublesome skirt of yours."
With a grin to match his own, she hopped down off the desk. Cullen smoothed his hands up her sides, tugging the white shirt taut before pulling her skirt down over it.
"There," he murmured, jerking the fabric a little to the side in order to center it. "As if nothing has happened."
Elena reached down, carding her fingers through his hair."Well, almost," she said with a smirk. "You have sex hair."
Cullen felt a laugh rumble deep in his chest, "have you looked in a mirror lately?"
Her hair stuck out at all angles, red curls and kinks flying around her head. Standing, Cullen reached forward and gently smoothed her locks down, trying to make the just been fucked look not so obvious. Giving up after a moment, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close.
"As delightful as that was, we probably shouldn't have sex at work again," he murmured into the crown of her hair. "That was too close for comfort."
Elena rested her head against his chest, nodding in agreement. Cullen cradled her face in his hand, rocking them gently. After a moment, she pulled away just enough that she could look up at him. Cupping his jaw, she smoothed her thumb over the corner of his lip, along the scar. Her bright eyes were soft, hesitant, perhaps.
"Cullen, I lo—"
There was a sharp knock at the door and a moment later Harding appeared, pushing it ajar behind her. Cullen and Elena broke apart, and he could feel a flush creeping up his neck.
Harding paused, laughing eyes looking at them closely. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but Lady Pentaghast is here and she says it's urgent."
Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. Of course it was urgent; to Cassandra, everything was a damn emergency. "Um, tell her I'll be ready in a moment."
Harding nodded and closed the door, still looking like she was on the verge of laughter.
"What were you going to say?" He asked, turning his attention back to Elena who was busying herself with gathering up the papers she had brought with her.
She looked up at him, her cheeks flushed. "I…nothing. Want to come over for dinner? Dorian's making shakshuka—he always makes enough to feed an army."
Cullen could tell there was something more she wanted to say but before he could ask, Cassandra appeared in the doorway, clutching her laptop, and foot tapping against the floor. He took a deep breath, resisting the urge to kiss Elena's forehead, and nodded.
"Sure, text me the details," he agree, slipping into his professional tone, their afternoon diversion suddenly and clearly over.
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