AKA, "Aylwen and Cullen Intimacy Issues Part 1."

It took me a really, really long time to make it to the sex scene in the Cullen romance, so this story is (one) attempt to headcanon why the two of them might have waited so long.

Also, contains the first legit kissing scene I've ever written (yikes). So, if anyone has any suggestions on how to make it read better, or if anything's confusing, please let me know!

They'd been away from Skyhold for three weeks, and Aylwen couldn't wait anymore. It was the longest she'd been away from Cullen since the first time he'd kissed her, and for three weeks he was all she'd been able to think about. His smile. His voice. His lips on hers. His hands on her face, on her waist, lower—where he hadn't touched yet. Her whole body buzzed at the thought. For three weeks, she had to force herself to focus on her companions and the missions they had to complete. But finally, today, they were back.

As soon as they were through the gates, as soon as her mount was stabled and she'd made her excuses, she was off and running. Across the courtyard, up the stairs. Boots pounding on the stone, not caring who saw. Running, flying, to his office.

She threw the door open and stood there, out of breath and red-faced. He was by the window, reading over some report. He turned when she entered and his face registered his surprise.

"I hadn't heard you were back—"

She didn't give him time to finish. She dashed across the room, leapt into his arms. She heard the paper crumple in his hand. He stumbled, but managed to catch her. She kissed him—hungrily, breathlessly. Her feet off the ground and her arms around his neck. He gasped, then responded. He wrapped his arms around her middle and leaned back for balance. His lips moved with hers. Her whole body flushed with heat, half from the sensations—so much better than she'd even imagined—and half from the intensity.

They'd never kissed so passionately. Even their first kiss had been too short—wonderful, but hesitant. The kisses after that were even more so. He always kissed her like he was being careful. He barely touched her, and always pulled away just when she most wanted him to continue.

But not this time. His kisses were hot, open-mouthed, and hard. Stumbling, but without breaking the kiss, he turned around pressed her into the closest wall. She barely noticed the rough feeling of the stones against her back. She was too focused on pressing her body as close to his as she could, on exploring his mouth with her tongue, his lips with her teeth. He groaned and leaned forward so her feet could touch the ground again. He didn't break the kiss. She moved her hands from his neck to his chest, pressed her palms into the armor as he cupped her face and tilted her head back to deepen the kiss. She groaned around his tongue. This was what she wanted. This was what she needed. This and more.

She slid her hands down his chest—disappointed, as she'd been before, that it was covered by the armor. She trailed down further, past his belt to press against his trousers. He shuddered, made a noise that was almost a whimper. Clumsily, she began to fumble at the laces there.

He gasped, breaking the kiss, which wasn't so bad. That made it easier for her to tilt her head down to better see what she was doing. His chin rested on top of her head, looking down at her, panting.

But, just as she managed to grab hold of his laces, she felt his hand close around her wrist, stopping her and holding it in place. She struggled, but then she heard his voice. Could feel the flutter of his throat as he spoke. "Wait," he said, voice strained. "Wait."

She looked up at him. His eyes were half closed, lips slightly parted, face flushed. He was breathing hard, but her wrist was still clutched in his hand.

"What's wrong?" she said. Her own voice sounded a little breathless, too. "What is it?"

He shook his head. She felt his body stiffen, pull back from her even as he still held on to her wrist. She wanted to groan in frustration. Her whole body was white hot, heart still pounding.

"Not now," he said softly.

"Why not?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it gently. Such a small action, but even this made her shudder. He released her wrist and smiled down at her, eyes soft.

"It's good to see you again," he said.

She leaned toward him. It was. It was good to see him again. But she needed more. Her eyes were lidded, lips parted, half begging him to kiss her again. But, instead, he turned away, moved back to his desk and began straightening the papers there. She blinked. It took her a moment to stand straight without the wall to support her, her legs felt so weak, but once she had managed it she came over and stood just behind him.

"Cullen," she said. "What's wrong?"

He didn't look up, but she saw his shoulders twitch.

"I just…" he said. He sighed. "We have a lot of work to do."

"Oh," she said.

After a moment of her not moving, he finally looked over. He rubbed the back of his neck, his expression apologetic, maybe even pleading. Tell me what's wrong, she thought.

"We can, um." He cleared his throat. "We can speak more tomorrow."

She nodded. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

"All right," she said.

ooo

Later, she sat at the foot of her bed. She should have been unpacking, but instead she combed her fingers absently through her long hair, which hung loose over one shoulder. She couldn't stop thinking about what had happened earlier.

The heat and need that had filled her had been replaced with an icy feeling right in the pit of her stomach. It wasn't the fact that he'd denied her that bothered her. It was his distance and his unwillingness to discuss it. What she most wanted, what she really, really wanted, was to be close to him without any barriers. That was what he kept denying her.

Why? This had worried her before, but always faintly. Now, though, the worry dominated. Why was he so distant? Was it because of her?

She looked up and caught sight of her reflection in the mirror on the other side of the room. She had to look away. It's me, she thought, eyes on the bedspread. Of course it's me. He was probably having second thoughts.

And no wonder, her mind insisted. It was the part that always spoke up in times of stress. Usually she could ignore it, or at least push it aside, but when she was alone or unsure it always came back. This time, in a flood.

You're not pretty. You're too naïve. You always choose the wrong person. Always. Always.

She turned away from the mirror and curled into a ball on top of the covers. She tried to stifle the thoughts, but they kept coming. They were relentless.

ooo

The following day, she approached his office slowly. She hadn't slept well the night before and she knew there were dark circles under her eyes. She blinked to clear the exhaustion from her vision, and knocked, lightly, on the door. She heard him call for her to come in, and she slipped inside, shutting the door behind her.

Much like yesterday he stood near the window reading a report. He looked up when she entered and his face immediately softened. He placed the paper on his desk and came over.

"I hoped you'd stop by," he said.

He stopped, his expression turning to one of concern when he seemed to notice the dark circles under her eyes, and the way she kept wringing her hands and avoiding his gaze. He took another step forward.

"Is everything all right?" he said.

She looked up. Her throat was tight and she felt like she might cry.

"Cullen," she said. "I was thinking and…" She swallowed. "If you're not… if you're not interested in me, we don't have to keep doing this."

He blinked.

"What?" he said. "Why would you think…?" Then, realization seemed to dawn. He sighed, shut his eyes. "Maker's breath, this is about yesterday, isn't it?"

She nodded. "Yes. If you're…"

"Maker's breath," he said again, interrupting her. "Of course I'm interested. Of course."

"But, yesterday…"

"…wasn't about me not being interested," he said. "Maker, Aylwen. You're so beautiful, and it's been so long since I've… and I'm… I just…"

He threw up his hands. "I'm not ready yet," he said.

Now it was her turn to look surprised. She swallowed again.

"You want to wait?" she said.

"Yes," he said. "If that's all right with you."

She blinked, once. It had never occurred to her that Cullen might be nervous. He was older than her, possibly more experienced, and he was a man. Weren't men supposed to be all over you when they were interested? That was what all the books said. That was how it had been with Dylahn.

She must have still looked uncertain, because he stepped forward and took both of her hands.

"It's not because I'm not interested," he said firmly. "I want to wait until the time is right. I need to be sure…"

Sure of what? she wondered. But he didn't finish the sentence.

He squeezed her hands. "As soon as I'm ready, you'll be the first to know."

She couldn't help but smile at this. "I should hope so," she said. She took a step closer, pulling his hands onto her waist. His fingers clasped behind the small of her back, and he met her grin with one of his own.

"I will admit," he said. "I did enjoy your… enthusiasm."

"Then I'll make sure to be extra enthusiastic in the future," she said.

He was drawing her closer. She tilted her head up, ready for his kiss, but instead he pulled her against his chest and rested his head on top of her hair. At first her heart sank. There it was again. The distance. But, then, she heard him exhale, felt him melt into her. She returned his hug and pressed her cheek into his chest. This was good, this closeness, him holding her like there was nothing else in the world but them. For now, it was enough.