Motes of dust struck the golden light streaking through autumnal leaves. I watched each one's sparkling fall as they came to rest upon the log pile beside the door. My focus should have been upon the book in my fingers, my body stretched across a divan to get into the perfect reading position. A cup of cinnamon tea cooled behind my head, masked by the leather throw pillow. While the creeping chill of oncoming winter circled the floorboards of the cabin, I ignored it. The cashmere sweater snuggling against my skin and piling at my wrists was certainly helping.
Licking my thumb, I moved to turn the page before realizing I once again failed to read it. Maker take me, but this cursed tome was dense. Squaring my shoulders, I prepared to dive in deep when the heavenly scent of the forest wafted on the breeze. An earthy but sweet musk, it sang of summer's overgrowth entering its next stage of slumber. Ripping through the senescence of the rust-colored sky came the piquant acrid smoke of leaves burning to ash.
He'd been at it most of the morning, dressed in his thick cotton shirt to stave off the early dew. I gulped at the thought of Cullen having to break open the buttons in the autumn sun to reveal his white undershirt clinging to the hard-wrought sweat drenching his muscles. No doubt some would scoff at the Commander of the Inquisition breaking his back to try and tame the excess foliage, but Cullen seemed content.
At least until a crow flitted into the trees and seemed determined to harass him. I could hear the caws breaking from outside, and on occasion, Cullen shouting at the 'Blighted thing' to 'shove off.' Stretching my legs, the hem of the oversized sweater rose to display my lower thigh. Scandalous for the Inquisitor, but she was left behind at Skyhold. Hung up on the rack along with the armor bearing the eye. Here, it was simply me, a golden cabin creaking with fall's perfect winds, and a man.
Also, a damn book I needed to finish. Digging deeper into the throng of gerunds and participles, I barely looked up at the whine of the screen door. It slammed back into place, trying to distract me, but nothing would. I was determined in my course. I would see this…
"What are you reading?"
Sigh. I wanted to be cross, but — slipping a finger between the pages — I glanced up and couldn't be. His bullheaded yard work turned the golden lion of Skyhold dewey, the man nearly glistening head to toe. His sandy hair was adrift and mussed to one side, leaving my fingers aching to wrestle it back in place. The scruff that delighted damn near every woman who saw him was nearing a beard. While some would probably laugh at it, Cullen's lighter hair leaning towards the splotchy look, I found myself enthralled with the barbaric feel of the fur scratching against my skin.
Here, in the woods, there was no political grandstanding, no ruffs, no corsets. Just a man, a woman, and no one around for miles to hear what that combination could get up to.
Cullen drew the back of his hand over his forehead, trying to wipe away the soot built up from the cremated leaves. It sort of worked, smearing off his face at least, and I had a better concept of what he'd look like as a brunette. Not my ideal. Those amber eyes that flickered through my mind like a candle in the dark honed in. He really wanted an answer.
"A book," I said, causing him to pout. I shouldn't pick but watching that chewable bottom lip jut free drew out the worst in me. "One on Tevinter History. I thought I'd catch up before the big meeting."
A thud broke through the easy air, a reminder that this was ephemeral and real life waited beyond the cloyingly quaint meadow lane. But Cullen drew past that, his body sidling closer to inspect the title. While he perused the cover, I inhaled his woodsy aroma. The man's natural musk amplified as he put his body to work, bringing a rush to my slumbering blood. Layered overtop the raw, magnetic scent was one of juniper and the forest after a hard rain. I wanted to dig my nose into his neck and take a deep whiff, but he pulled back to look up into my eyes.
"I read this one."
My lips were pursing for his, when his words struck me. Blinking madly, I glanced down at the gobbledegook of words and sputtered, "You did?"
"Yep. Back in…" His thoughts trailed off as he stared down at my legs trying to dig under a knitted blanket. "Are you not wearing any trousers?"
I shrugged, unable to hide the fact.
Cullen groaned, "You're going to get sick. You can't… It's cold in here. That fire is…" His half-finished sentences snapped away as he glanced to the hearth I'd sort of failed to tend to, now nothing but ash. "Merciful Maker, you cannot get ill."
"I'm fine," I tried to insist, burrowing my legs under the blanket so he wouldn't catch the goosepimples. But no, that damn lion saw all. His eyes were more of an eagle's.
"Get up," he insisted as if I was a stubborn child, or one of his soldiers.
Crossing my arms and burrowing them into the sweater, I glared at him, "No. I'm comfortable here."
"You need pants! And socks." His massive paws wrapped around one of my feet causing Cullen to gasp, "They're icicles."
"I'm content here, burrowed under a blanket." I rolled my eyes, assuming that would be the end of it, but my personal worry-wart launched his unbendable arms out. Without a by-your-leave, he scooped me up off the couch.
"What are you doing?" I shrieked even as the man heaved me through the air and placed me up on his shoulder like a bag of feed.
"Getting you properly dressed. Last thing I need is Josephine hollering at me for letting the Inquisitor draw ill," he huffed, not because I was a heavy burden but in his dead-set pout.
My stomach pinched to the powerful shoulder I was hoisted upon. I could feel my cold toes dangling against Cullen's abs as he turned on his heel and marched me towards the bedroom. This whole thing was preposterous. I wanted to say as such, when his hand landed upon my ass. The wide spread of fingers and palm easily cupped both cheeks, while the other palm worried up and down my frosty calves. He was enjoying this, and to be perfectly frank, it was nice to be carried around with a free view of his backside.
Still. I cracked open the book, trying to focus on the words and not the flexing butt-cheeks of the man carting me about. "This is foolish," I chastised, when Cullen gripped onto the ladder to the cabin's loft and began to climb. My body bounded about like a rock in a saddlebag, but he kept a tight grip to protect me. And the damn fool kept on climbing the ladder with me in his arms.
Nibbling on my lip, I let my sight glance towards the bicep straining to hold me in place. How the muscle bulged below the skin, begging for me to wring my fingers over so much power. But I couldn't reach, and startling him seemed unwise lest we wind up having to explain the Inquisitor with a broken spine.
Arriving in the loft, Cullen paused to take in a breath. It was a charming getaway, the ceiling A-framed so the roof met in a point above us. Soft, oak-colored wood polished to a shine filled both the floor and walls. A single window allowed the hazy autumn light to glance upon the bed. Gnarled trees stood in for the posts, each guarding a great mattress garnished with a multi-colored quilt. Plush, with enough space to fit three people, the only downside to the bed was it tended to squeak. Not that that was much of a problem with the nearest person a good twenty miles and counting.
I smirked, waiting for him to put me down on my feet, when the air upended itself. Cullen heaved me off his shoulder with a shrug, sending my well-coddled ass diving to the bed. The entire structure shuddered from the addition, my bare knees nearly banging into my chest at how deep I sank. I whipped my head up from the surprise, but he was already wandering off to the chest of drawers to find suitable attire for the vacationing Inquisitor.
With a grump at such indignity, I spun onto my stomach and cracked open the book. Beyond the rich history of Archons I heard Cullen rustling about in a festoon of stockings he couldn't wrap his mind around. "What about these?"
He must have offered up a selection, but I was too enthralled with the Treatise of Archon Someone-or-other in the Blessed Age. My bare leg lifted through the air, foot pointed to a tip to emphasize the calf dangling near the man's eyesight as I deliberately turned a page.
"Are you going to lay there, barely dressed, reading that book?"
The familiar exasperation caused me to twist on my side, though I didn't dare clasp the pages shut. I eyed up the bull of a man who found brute force to be the answer nine times out of ten. Drawing my thumb to my lip, I graced it against the thin skin, eyes boring into his. As it pressed against my bottom lip, dragging the tempting treat out, the tip of my tongue lapped against it. With a smirk, I turned the page and rolled back onto my stomach.
"Blessed Andraste," he groaned, forgetting the leggings and collapsing onto the bed beside me. The mattress collapsed so my legs buckled to his hip. Cullen — even while exasperated with me — began to rub his calloused palm over them.
Maker, it felt divine, his fingers moving of their own accord to wrench all the stress off of my legs. As they abandoned their work to slide first over the back of my knee and skirt under the hem of the sweater, my thighs spread. But all he offered was a thrum of his fingertips rolling a beat over my lower thigh. There was better above, already. Grab it!
"Why are you so void-sent on getting me dressed? I'd have thought you'd prefer the other state."
Spiced breath, warm as an afternoon sunbeam, caressed the back of my ear. "Believe me, there is nothing I fantasize about more." That soothing hand rose higher, stubby nails glancing in a hypnotic rhythm over my flushed flesh. When he reached the crease of my thigh, I clenched my toes, hoping and praying for him to delve deep.
The fool rose away, leaving me spinning in place at the loss. As Cullen's wandering palm settled in his lap, he said, "But I know you. You'll spend the entire day freezing while pages deep into a book. Come tomorrow it'll be sniffles, and in three days time a full on flu."
I grimaced at his assessment, even if it was accurate. Twisting on my hip, I moved to finagle my cold legs around him, but Cullen caught a foot and once again cupped it in his hands. This time, he blew upon the icicle toes, manically rubbing his palms over it to bring forth heat.
"I'll have you know," I was losing the high ground in this fight, the warming grip rising to my ankles, "that this is a very fascinating book."
"Oh?" He quirked up an eyebrow and that scar upon his lip rose as well. Most didn't catch on that despite all of the Commander's terrifying snarls and growls, when that scar rose it meant he was in a sardonic mood. It allowed him to get away with damn near murder around the Orlesian Court, many finding the Ferelden as adorable as a mabari pup.
Collapsing the book into my palm, I told him, "A rich, vibrant tapestry of the Archons and how they led to the current Imperium."
His eagle eyes drifted from my palm trying to slam the book back and forth as if that'd shake out its secrets, up to my steel gaze. Rolling his tongue over his lips, Cullen said, "You know it ends with…"
I lashed forward, my palm slapping over his gossipy mouth. Hot breath danced through my lifelines, the delectable lips nibbling on the tender flesh but I wouldn't be charmed. "No spoilers!" I cried. "If I know how it ends I won't get through another page."
Amber flames burned at me, his nose prodding just above my finger. The devastating glare winnowing off his whiskey eyes was enough to cause any woman to quiver in her knickers. I may be the Inquisitor, vanquisher of Corypheus, but even I'm not immune to his power. My palm plummeted from his cheeks, his lips glistening from his hot breath dewing upon them.
Cullen lapped up the moisture, those eyes that pinned me in place abetting so I could take in a breath. Just as I was reaching for the book to begin again, he said, "Archon Nomaran was the first magi…"
"Damn you!" I shouted, fingers lashing forward to try and stopper any more secrets he spat out. But that wily Commander snagged my hand and entrapped it in his. A mischievous glow brandished deep in his eyes as he focused on me.
That cursed mouth opened, about to render futile any hope I had of forcing myself through the book's quagmire. Thinking fast, I dove forward, my lips silencing his. Maker's breath, he tasted of meandering walks under an autumn canopy. Of leaping into leaf piles with wild abandon. Of bubbling apple pie smothered in whipped cream. A moan reverberated up my throat, rolling my lascivious tongue to straddle his ravenous lips.
Cullen allowed me passage, my tongue lapping up not only the nutty flavor of his mouth but the heat. Robust fingers dug into my shoulder blades, bunching the ivory sweater as he pressed me to him. My personal bodyguard, protector from all manner of threat, nipped his teeth against my lip. I gasped, wiggling up off my bent knees in shock, and those hands swooped right in to cup my ass. He did it on purpose!
"Do," I sputtered, my panting breasts bunching against his own heaving chest, "do you still want me to put on pants?"
Burning amber swung to me, shadows lengthening his chiseled face. Cullen walked one knee forward, his palms digging into my scoops of derriere. I scuttled back with him, uncertainty rising as the man who plucked me off the couch graced his nose beside mine. A growl of a dragon defending its horde rose from his gullet as he said, "No."
I worked lighting quick, struggling to rip the button-up shirt off his tantalizing shoulders. Cullen's lips smothered mine, his palms sliding up to pad against the small of my back. The cable-knit wool of the sweater kept me from savoring the thrill of his skin upon mine. No doubt he'd wrench it off me soon enough. I had bigger concerns.
The ravenous Commander kept walking me backwards, my body teetering as I clung white-knuckled to the ends of his shirt to keep from falling. He swept a solitary hand nearly fully across my back, keeping me pinned upright, even as his kisses grew fervid. Teeth scraped over my chin and down the jaw, my neck extending in a cry for attention. He was happy to deliver, my body hanging upon a precipice at his full mercy. Granted, the fall was a foot at most to a feather mattress, but the thrill was undeniable.
A swathe of beard hairs scratched down my throat, heralding the triumphant arrival of lips to soothe away the burn. I squirmed at each balmy kiss, a pleading whine dribbling from my lips. "Tell me…" Cullen breathed, punctuating each break with a kiss, "you want it."
I gnawed on my lip, squirming at the ache between my thighs. A sleeping dragon was awake and in need of proper attention.
He switched to the other side, his lips now proceeding the rash of beard. Maker's sake, how was that making me wetter? "Tell me…" The edge of his incisors scraped my jaw, bringing a wanton pant to my tongue. Those inscrutable, sometimes cross eyes flared into mine, Cullen waiting for me to fall into his abyss as he whispered, "Tell me you need it."
"For the love of the void!" I wrapped both hands to his shoulders and yanked him down on top of me. We both tumbled to the bed, his forehead nearly careening into mine. I crushed his palm to my back, trapping it, but was incapable of caring as my body lit up. Writhing against him, I hooked my leg around his waist and gurgled at the glance of his bulge against the wet spot in my knickers.
Cullen tipped his head back at the move, exposing the struggling Adam's apple. Never one to turn down a treat, I lapped my tongue around that masculine accouterment, the tip of my nose brushing through his scraggly beard. As he gulped down his excitement, well aware he just showed his hand, I tugged his forehead to mine. His eyelashes rested upon his cheeks, the man listening to the thrum of his body rocking against mine.
"I often want it," I whispered, my free hand canvassing down the skin-tight shirt clinging to his mountainous terrain. "And…" I paused, raising my head off the mattress to breathe in his ear. As my hand cinched around his cock, I said, "I always need it."
Lips plunged to mine, Cullen alternating between kissing the life out of me while also struggling to rip his button-up off. When the cuff snagged on the wrist, exposing his knot of shoulder muscle, I pulled his shoulder down to my lips. Three sweet kisses ended in a bite, Cullen squirming as a prayer dribbled from his tongue. Rising away, his face flushed to a rosy hue, he glanced over to find I'd undone the cuff button for him.
A chuckle broke from his throat as he finally made off with the button-up. I worked off the undershirt, palms soothing up his abs, nails skirting down his back. It was slow, laborious work to take a measure of his chest but I felt up to the task.
All the while, he kept pressing words to my lips. "Please." "Yes." "Be with me." "Trust Me." Each I answered with a kiss, my voice melted into my chest. When I wrenched the tight undershirt free, Cullen rose up allowing me free rein of his delectable body. Certainly, it could have been so he could unhitch his belt, but I knew where a delectable show was to be found.
He wore his strength the way an Orlesian would a ruffle; delineated pecs, abs, biceps, and more flexing in pride as he bobbed on his knees. A fine line of hair speckled out in a t-shape from his pink nipples down towards the pinkie-sized belly button. Staggering up to my elbows, I hooked my hands against the small of his back. Cullen paused in tugging off his pants, allowing my lips the freedom to ruffle up the start of his enchanting treasure trail.
With great strain, he lowered his trousers to match my probing tongue. I flicked the fluffy hairs back and forth, the tip of my nose bouncing into his belly button. My lips smacked a kiss, drawing further and further towards the real excitement. It was trembling within its knicker snare, trying to tap its way to freedom. Poor thing, it simply needed a helping hand.
Flattening my fingers to the sinewy hip, I slid them between skin and trousers, quickly filling my grip with that famished cock. "Blighted Maker," Cullen gasped from the tug of my palm slicking his skin up against the proud core. I gave another one, watching the flesh pile up under the crown, before flicking my thumb against the pleasureful passage.
He babbled at that, those pesky trousers remaining barely below his narrow hips, but I didn't mind. With my tongue as a guide, I traipsed through the lower belly hair as if on a mission. At the crease, where cock conjoined with body, I lapped the prickly skin into my lips and mashed them together. Cullen's cock bounded higher up at the move, knocking against the underside of my jaw.
With only my lips, I worried the tender flesh enveloped around his cock. Each micro-kiss carried me higher towards the crown. The symbol of rule, power. It wasn't who owned the crown that had the power, but the person controlling it. Circling my tongue, I slicked down his cock, my lips pursed tight at the first touch. With each gain by millimeters, I opened my mouth wider, guiding the gasping man deeper into my sway.
He yet had one hand hooked to the waistband of his pants, trying to tug them lower to give me all the access I wanted. The other kneaded into my shoulder, fingers digging and scraping as he struggled to wrench himself back from the brink. I need not pull him clear down my throat, the cup of my hand making delectable work on the lower half of his being. It was the head that had my full attention anyway, every circle of my swirling tongue wrenching forth a moan.
The flesh in my hand plumped tighter against the seal, my fingers scrabbling to keep up. I moved to unhinge my jaw wider, when Cullen graced the back of his hand to the side of my cheek. When I looked up I discovered a man fully undone, his chest sparkling from sweat, the blush of excitement burning across his flesh.
"You," he gulped, his fingers gliding from my cheek towards the sweater. As his bottom lip tumbled out, a gasp puttering free, his palm circled around my breast. Blessed Maker! I squirmed in place, thrusting my chest out for more of his ministrations. Each swirl graced the soft sweater against my nipple, my eyes crushing tight as I marinated in the pleasure.
When no hand found my other breast, nor did he finish his statement, I risked a peek. Those amber eyes stared hungrily through the ivory wool, finding the dark shadow of a nipple below. "I what?" I asked, rising higher on my knees to try and meet him face to face.
His teeth bit down on his bottom lip, hard, candle-flame eyes honing from my panting chest up to my face. With a snarl, he said, "You are a pain." Gripping onto my shoulders, he heaved me backward. The mattress bent from my addition, prepared to rebound, when Cullen's hands slammed in beside me.
I laughed, locking the bare legs that drove him to such babbling pains around his waist. Another matter strained against my lower belly, the lubrication I left behind slicking it upon my skin. The motion brought forth yet another groan from the man.
Cullen dug his forehead to mine, his eyes tight while he pulled in a breath to inflate his body. As the chest pushed me deeper to the mattress, words dripped from his lips. "You are impossible to keep safe. To protect. To predict."
Chuckling, I rifled the heel of my palm through his beard, starting at the jaw. As it drew closer to his lips, he turned to plant a kiss. I asked, "Would you have it any other way?"
Those always cautious, always guarded eyes whipped up to mine. The breath froze in my throat, tension shattering the cozy autumn air. Cullen leaned deeper into the mattress, all of his weight dragging us down until I felt the box frame bounce into my spine. Still, he kept on, his nose burrowing into my cheek, the fire in his eyes blinding me.
A breath's distance from my lips, he whispered, "No." Ravenous kisses resumed, my hunger puckering his bottom lip between mine, rolling in the firm flesh that pouted to try to match me. But he couldn't compete with my ferocity. I could kiss every inch of his body morning, noon, and night. Rake my nails across the scarred skin dotted with freckles. Flex my thighs against his ropey hips.
Gasping, Cullen rounded up my wrists, yanking both back off his body and bundled them in his fists. "You are impossible," he sputtered, even while skirting his lips over my jaw. The kisses rose higher, his tongue lapping over my earlobe as I smiled.
I caught his eyes dusted over with lust. Popping my eyebrows, with all the hubris in my stable, I answered, "I know."
His hands released mine, both quickly knotting around the hips of my knickers. He twisted the grip around his fingers, winding it the way a drowning sailor would a rope, and yanked them straight down. I barely had a chance to bend my knees before they flew away through the golden light.
We both eyed up their final flight, Cullen's shaggy head whipping back to me. I watched the fire rise from his gullet as he swirled his palm up my thigh. It wrung out the muscle, the temptation parting my legs wider even as I straddled up on my knees.
"Well," I dug my hands to the hem of the sweater, "I won't be needing this." Before I could free myself, his unbreakable grip snagged my elbow and held my crossed arms in place.
"No, keep it on," his breath bounced against me.
"Why?" I glanced down at my breasts, both aching to savor in his naked skin flush against them.
"So whenever I see you wearing it," he whispered, hot breath trickling down my throat. His lips sought out mine, a hand rolling over my spine. Suddenly, he lowered me back, his naked thighs spreading mine wider. With a smile, he said, "I'll remember this."
Cullen thrust that stalwart crown inside of me, my body arcing to drag it deeper inside. I dug my head back into the rumpled quilt, my hands scrabbling to clutch at an anchor. Sparks darted through my vision, like the final vestiges of the lightning bugs as summer's warmth faded to fall's chill. His hips rocked gently against me, the man pleading for more as I did the same.
Give it to me. All of it.
He scooped a hand under my back, lifting it higher through the air until… Sweet blood of Andraste! Pleasure arced from my begging loins to the tips of my toes and down my fingers. "Yes," he crowed, pleased with my reaction as I fumbled deeper into the abyss. The thrusting amped from a rhythmic flutter to a flurry. I lashed out, wrapping my hand around his forearm to keep my back upright, to keep his cock bounding right against that perfect node.
Yes.
Yes!
That's perfect.
Don't stop!
Warmth swarmed my body, a tingling heralding the oncoming storm. I waded into the shallow pool of pleasure, clinging with all my might to the volatile perfection. Another thrust sent me tumbling over the edge, the orgasm walloping my soul. I crammed the heel of my hand between my jaws, biting down to try and compensate from the overload pulsing from my vagina. It barely made a dent, Cullen still stroking every pounding ache of joy like the maestro he was.
"Gah," fluttered from my lips, my flitting brain incapable of forming words.
Cullen released his hold, allowing my limp spine to meld to the bed. I shifted, prepared to switch up the position, when he bent over while still inside of me. Both hands locked to my wrists, pinning me down like a butterfly to a board. Helpless, I stared up into his hooded eyes, my vagina clamping tighter to his cock to siphon off every ebb of pleasure.
Gulping, I moistened my panted throat enough to speak. "Do you want it?"
His face twisted to the side, a ghost of a smile rising. Even with my hands splayed out, I lifted my head off the bed. Cullen met me, our foreheads nearly colliding as I whispered, "Do you need it?"
Lips stole away my breath, Cullen needing it as his thrusting increased ten-fold. I cried in a perfect agony as the already primed explosions continued to rock my body. The shockwaves lessened with each pass, but they were worth the ride.
"I…" His weary head bent down, Cullen pushing me down with his forehead. As I collapsed, he lifted his own knees, his hips rolling to match the wave rising through us. Pinned to his will, I watched as the golden lion tipped his head to the sky and let out a roar, "I love you!" As went the words so did his orgasm, warmth spreading between my legs. The man collapsed atop of me, his sandy hair seeking refuge in the folds of the creamy sweater he would never forget.
Extinguished lips pressed fluttering kisses to my shoulder, Cullen's slack leg curling over my hips as he clung to me. We panted together in ecstasy, savoring in the soft coo of doves flitting through the sparse branches. The scent of a forest turning in for a long sleep wafted through the breeze. It fluttered harvest gold curtains towards us, my eyes struggling to shake off the pleasure-induced blur to see beyond the golden haze.
"Do…?" His lips rose up from my shoulder, bounding against my throat. Despite his earlier protestations, a palm curled under the sweater. It traipsed from my stomach up to a breast, delighting in the bounce of flesh. "Do you want to get back to your book?" He asked, his voice as fresh as if we were speaking on the battlements in Skyhold instead of the man's naked form enveloping me.
A smile consumed my face, and I spun on my side. Curling a hand down his arm, canvassing his stomach, and rounding back to pinch those fresh buns which could use a hard nibble, I answered, "It can wait 'til tomorrow."
"Here." He locked his leg fully around me, his naked flesh molding around mine. "So you don't get cold."
My worrier, always hurling himself in the way so I needn't fret about a puddle. As he worked his magic, my body shaking off the chill of autumn, I murmured, "You know, winter will be arriving soon."
Cullen butted his forehead to mine, his scar rising in a grin. "I'll work even harder to keep you warm." As we found each other again, from the windowsill a crow called out one last herald of winter's arrival. It flitted freely into the darkening sun, shaking acorns for the squirrels rustling through fallen leaves. Smoke twisted from the chimney, the only proof of a small cabin hidden deep in the woods where the Commander and the Inquisitor enjoyed a cozy fall day.