Intensity Returns

by muse's blood

When Hawke joins the Inquisition, she and Cullen renew an old intensity.

He was in his office, reading yet another report while simultaneously speaking to one of his soldiers about the guard rotation when he heard someone walk in the door. It was only when the soldier paused awkwardly to look, his words becoming a stammer, that he put the report down to glare up at the man. He was about to tell him to get on with it already when a voice, her voice, came from the doorway: "Leave us." Authoritative as ever, with an aggressive edge which struck fear into the hearts of all who stood in her way, she wouldn't be argued with. Maker forgive anyone who tried. The soldier scurried out of the room, a fearful expression on his face. Slamming the door after him, she then turned the lock before she casually started stalking back and forth across the floor, her narrowed eyes not leaving his.

She looked almost identical to the way she once had. It was as though time and age just didn't touch her the way it did ordinary folk. She'd always looked young for her age, in spite of having the soul of an ancient dragon. Even now, aside from the faintest appearance of lines next to her left eye, a detail one wouldn't notice unless they were searching for it, she still had a youthful glow in her pristine skin. The habit she had of smearing the blood of her felled enemies across her face hadn't changed either. It was like being taken back in time, only with the wisdom you'd gained since you'd been there.

Staring her down indignantly, his own features twisting into a contemptuous expression, he found himself snarling, "What gives you the right to order my people about?"

Pausing, she placed both hands on the edge of the desk and leaned in, her glare becoming heated, "The Inquisition gave me the right. Or have you not heard?"

"The Inquisitor agreed to let you work with the Inquisition." He put his own hands on the desk, leaning forward himself as he stood. "That doesn't mean you have any authority here."

"I have more than he did." She rolled her eyes, gesturing at the door the soldier had departed through. Then, leaning back to stand upright again, she gave him a grim look. "So, you've been busy. Helping your 'holy' Inquisitor save the Templar order? Battling the rebel mages? Undoing all my hard work? I imagine that brings you a tremendous amount of satisfaction."

"The rebel mages brought trouble on themselves when they allied with a Tevinter cult." He pointed out with a stern glare. "One which worships Corypheus. Or have you forgotten?"

"Stow it, Cullen." She snapped defensively. "Everyone here knows why I've come. I don't have to justify the entire mage rebellion to you."

"Considering they rebelled under your banner..." He started before she gave him a hard, hateful look. Pausing, he wondered why it always started this way. (And why it always ended the same.) It was pointless to argue with Hawke. It always had been. Clearing his throat, he nodded. "I suppose you have a point. You're with the Inquisition now, and we can't change the past."

"Would you want to?" Hawke wondered, nonchalantly raking the sharp point at the end of her armored finger over the surface of the desk, leaving a mark in the varnish. "Because I have no regrets."

"Only the heartless have no regrets." Cullen retorted dismissively. "Mistakes and the regret which comes with them often help a person grow."

"Grow into what?" She smiled wickedly. "Because I've yet to decide what they did for you, Cullen."

"They gave me the strength to leave the Templar order, for one." He held himself up proudly. "To serve a greater cause."

"I suppose there's that." She agreed with a shrug. "Still, it's easier when you don't have anything about yourself that needed changing in the first place." Before he could respond, her expression grew curious and she changed the subject. "Tell me, what's it like to answer to a mage? You may have left the Templar order, but I can imagine it must take some getting used to."

"The Inquisitor has done nothing save prove herself a formidable leader." Cullen answered truthfully. "I have no trouble following the lead of someone who has proven, over and over again, they've earned the mantle and the burdens of being Inquisitor. She's risked everything for our cause, and I have a great deal of admiration for her."

"I think she's a goody-two-shoes Circle loyalist who stumbled into being the Herald and only managed to 'prove herself' through dumb luck." Hawke sneered dismissively. "Facing Corypheus in battle will be the real test, if you ask me. Believe me, it's no small feat. You sure she's up for it?"

"I am." He held himself up to his full height again, a stony expression on his face. Had anyone else asked him, he would be sure of the answer, but when Hawke did it, he had an inkling of doubt. After all, Hawke may be many things he didn't approve of, but she was a skilled tactician with more than her share of experience. She'd carved her way through half the Templar order the night Meredith had invoked the Rite of Annulment. More than that, she'd faced Corypheus in battle, just as the Inquisitor inevitably would, and had lived to tell of it. If she had her doubts about the Inquisitor, he should know them. Swallowing his pride, he asked, "Why would you think otherwise?"

"I nearly died facing him." She suddenly looked uneasy, less confident. "We all did. A healer, a Templar, Varric and myself. He called forth powerful magic unlike anything I'd ever seen. The entire chamber flooded with fire, lightning crackling in the air around us, stone rising up under our feet, shards of ice falling from the ceiling, shades summoned in every corner. Everyone passed out save me, and I barely managed to defeat him. That was before he had access to red lyrium, before he had an army, and I recall Varric saying, 'If that thing pulls a dragon out of its ass, I'm leaving!' Well, he has one of those now too. I was the Champion of Kirkwall when I fought Corypheus. What is the Inquisitor?"

"She's everything you can imagine, Hawke. You'll see for yourself, I promise."

"I suppose so." Hawke's confidence returned. "I'll be leaving for Crestwood in two hours, so I'll see her again very soon. I imagine there will be more than ample opportunities in the coming days to see if she has the mettle to face down our adversary."

"I've seen her mettle up close." Cullen reminded her. "Trust me when I say it rivals even yours."

"You'll need her to have more than that, once it comes down to it." She frowned deeply. "This is not just the battle of our age, but of all the ages, ancient and modern. Hopefully, she'll be ready. Frankly, I'm not one for hope, it's too risky, but sometimes it's all we're left with."

"Speaking from experience are we?" He gave her a skeptical look. "Because it seems to me you're the one who's left with nothing else but hope."

"I don't need you to remind me of how much I've lost." She snapped irritably. "Or why I've lost it. You're partly to blame for me losing it all to begin with."

"Don't lay the blame at my feet for your choices, Hawke." Cullen shook his head grimly. "I didn't make the decision to ally with a terrorist, to stand with blood mages and their willing followers, to prevent the annulment, to become the heart of the entire mage rebellion. You're the one who walked that path of your own free will. You could have walked away, but you chose not to."

"If someone had wanted to slaughter every Templar in Kirkwall, the innocent and guilty alike, because of Meredith alone, would you have stood by and let them?" She rhetorically asked with a knowing expression. "Because we both know you wouldn't have. You would have seen the injustice in that."

"That's a poor comparison." He rolled his eyes and folded his arms. "Templars don't have the power to destroy entire Chantries. There's a reason no one annuls Templar strongholds."

"From what I've been hearing, the Inquisitor very well nearly did just that, at Therinfal." She raised an eyebrow. "If she'd killed every Templar in that particular fortress, just to be ensure none infected with red lyrium made it out alive, would you have supported it?"

"I...don't know." Cullen admitted, hanging his head. "I suppose I should merely be grateful she didn't."

"Exactly." Hawke nodded almost solemnly. "The Inquisitor made the right call. She saved the innocent knights, good men and women who wanted nothing to do with that kind of damnation, in spite of the risk of a few maybe being corrupt. I did the same thing in Kirkwall."

"Hopefully, when the Circles are restored, the necessity of annulment will be a thing of the past." He pondered out loud. "Fortunately, the Inquisitor has many ideas about how we can do so. Promising ones. If you gave her a chance to tell you about them, maybe hear her out..."

"I'm afraid I'll always be an old-fashioned apostate, Cullen." She answered with a shrug. "You weren't wrong when you said Templars can't be our friends."

"I regret saying things like that." He muttered sheepishly, remembering that day vividly. "I'm not proud of the man I once was, Hawke. I was blinded by my nightmares of what happened with Uldred. I've learned Templars can be every bit as corrupt as mages, though in different ways. I believe in the humanity of mages now. Not only do I think mages and Templars can be friends, but it should be encouraged. After all, part of the reason for the tensions and abuses of many Circles was the fact neither side saw the other as anything but a potential adversary."

"Maybe that could work for the mages who actually want to be part of something like that." She conceded with a nod. "For those of us who want no part of a Circle, I imagine little would change."

He supposed she had a point. For the mage who resisted or even abhorred Chantry law, they would never be able to see a Templar as anything but an enemy of the freedom they clung to. Hawke herself was the prime example of it. Unfortunately, she was also the best example of it. An apostate's apostate, she was proof a mage could accomplish great things without any Circle to guide her. It was always difficult to explain to other mages since her rise to the title of Champion that she was the rarest of exceptions to the rule. One in a million. It was something he'd seen in her early on, dating back to the very first day they'd met, when she'd saved his life. Ever since, he'd hidden any mention of her magic from the Templar order until the fateful day she'd been discovered by Meredith herself.

But now wasn't the time for nostalgia.

"Do you have anything further for me, Champion?" He asked, stiffening up. "Because I have much to attend to, as do you."

"Don't I always have something further?" She purred suggestively as she leaned over his desk again. "Because you know our little visits always end one way."

"Not anymore." Cullen sharply inhaled as he spoke, watching her features became acute and hungry. He knew without a doubt this shouldn't happen. Things shouldn't end the same way they once had. It never should have happened the first time, nor the subsequent times that had followed. It had been his great shame as a Templar, the secret whispered only in the confidence of confession to a priest, his penances always heavy but never seeming heavy enough. Their encounters had been few, he could count them on one hand, but he remembered vividly the intense passion which had overwhelmed him.

Especially now, as she maneuvered quickly to the other side of his desk to stand toe-to-toe with him, a more melodic tone emerging in her demanding voice as she commanded him, "Say it again." Finding himself unable to, his mouth opening and closing to try and form the words, only to fail tremendously, he resorted to shaking his head. With a coy expression, she remarked, "I knew you couldn't."

"Hawke," Exhaling her name, he tried explaining, "What we had, if you can even say we had anything, should never have happened."

"Which was the very reason it did." She smiled hotly, running her hands up the front of his armor, one rising to rest on his cheek. "All that passion, all that intensity, could only happen between two people who should never have so much as touched one another."

It was true. At the height of every coupling had come an urgent satisfaction in the tabu. Whenever her skin had brushed against his, the thrill of the forbidden had brought him close to an edge of more than mere physical pleasure. It was a taste of ambrosia itself. The connection happened on a soul level, two rivals becoming one in purpose and need. Recalling the way he'd brought her to completion, causing her body to surrender in ways she never would, the ecstasy of spilling his seed into her, he felt almost at the mercy of his memories. Knowing he would become powerless to resist giving in soon, he backed away a few steps.

"I don't know if we should do this again." He murmured uneasily. "I can't say I'm not tempted, but..."

"Shut up and take me." Hawke told him in an authoritative tone, throwing her arms open to give herself to him.

Cullen felt his will shift dramatically. It wasn't a loss of his willpower, but rather a sudden will to claim what was his. Closing the space between them in a breath, his hands pulled her waist into his, his breath hot over her face as he spoke, "I shouldn't be doing this." Rather than an admonishment, it was an urgent wish, an invitation. She took a sharp breath and tilted her head back, tempting him to taste her bared neck. Cullen's mouth moved easily to the first patch of skin, the soft feel of it under his lips leaving him craving more as he deliberately left a mark on the pristine flesh. With a sly smile, he moved his mouth to her ear. "I shouldn't have done that. And I definitely shouldn't do this."

Engulfing her partly open lips with his own, not waiting before he slid his tongue into her mouth, the intensity of her return washed over him like a tidal wave. They kissed, or was it struggled?, for an extended interval, only stopping when they had to breathe, and not for long when they did. Her tongue would languidly roll over his as he explored her mouth with his own, her hands now sliding over his back, his pulling her hips squarely into his. Their passion was everything he remembered, and everything he wanted to experience. Everything powerful enough to defy the will of creation itself. What they had could never be contained by concepts as trite and vapid as love or affection, could never be easily categorized into words like right or wrong. The desire overtaking them transcended all.

"I take back what I said about you shutting up." She told him with a faint smile as their lips parted. "Tell me everything we shouldn't be doing."

Pushing her hips away from his, he hastily removed his gauntlets, letting them drop to the floor with a clang while his bare fingers moved to her buckle. "I shouldn't be unclasping you belt. I shouldn't tell you to take off your gloves." Continuing as her belt dropped away and her own gloves fell to the hard stone, he added, "We shouldn't begin taking off the rest of our gear."

"If you say so." She remarked in a lusty tone. "Then, no, we probably shouldn't."

Both of them moved to slide his coat off his shoulders before a sudden flurry of activity ensued. Between kisses and tastes of her gradually emerging body, their hands undid straps and pealed off layers until they were standing in nothing but the underclothes that prevented their armor from chaffing against their skin. Slowing things down, he stopped her from lifting the hem of her tunic when he saw she wore nothing under it. Moving his fingers to a nipple, visible through the fabric, he began rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. Hawke began to eagerly pant, so he spoke in an authoritative tone rivaling her own, "I shouldn't be pinching your nipple, Hawke. And you shouldn't be enjoying it."

"Neither should you." She rejoined as she began sliding her hand over the erection in his smallclothes. Repressing a groan, a gruff noise nonetheless escaped his throat. Moving his other hand between her legs, he found she'd soaked through the light shorts she wore under her armor. Running the side of his hands into the wetness while she took in a deep breath, he gently stroked her through the fabric, listening as she took a deep breath and held it for several seconds. When she finally exhaled, she was trembling as words left her in a rush. "Don't tease."

"Should I tease you, or shouldn't I?" Beginning to enjoy her impatience, his lips curling into a coy smile, he withdrew his hands and left just the faintest of kisses on her velvety lips.

"You know full well what I meant." She began to grip his cock through the linen, rather than sliding her hand over it, as she used her other hand to move his back to her breast. "Stop teasing me."

"Say it." He demanded, in spite of feeling his own patience wearing thin. "Should I tease you, or not?"

Hawke looked suddenly pensive, as if she was in suspense about what her next words should be. Sliding one finger over her nipple, barely, he raised an eyebrow. She leaned forward and murmured into his ear, the hot sensation of her breath against the sensitive curve of it causing his cock to throb heavily in her grip as she spoke, "You should, most assuredly, keep teasing me."

"Hawke, I can stop anytime." He reassured her, suddenly cognizant of the risks of "should" and "shouldn't" having opposite meanings. "Just say 'when' if you want to."

"Understood." She nodded once, as if they were discussing martial strategy, then smiled. "You should continue teasing me. Now."

Pulling the drawstring which held her shorts in place, he loosened them until they slid over her ample hips and down to the floor below her. Running his hand into the soft, dark curls to feel them for a moment, he then moved his forefinger over her slick to caress each fold and crevice tenderly. By the time his finger came to rest on her clit, she was breathing heavily. Putting just the slightest bit of pressure on the tiny pearl, he began shaking his finger to stimulate it. Hawke's heavy breaths became gasps, her eyes rolling back before they closed, her body trembling from his touch as she moved her hips more firmly into his hand. Cullen felt the heat rolling off her in waves as she began sliding her hands up and down his back, could see by the nuances in her expression she was piquing.

"I shouldn't be stroking your clit." He informed her, his cock twitching in the air, though he felt more patient than his urgent physical demands. Exchanging the finger on her clit for his thumb, he began probing with two fingers in her slick until he found her entrance. Sliding them into her cunt, feeling how hot it was, and hearing her gasp, he resumed shaking his hand as he all but growled, "I shouldn't be fingering your cunt, Hawke."

As she began to run a hand up into her short, raven locks, the incandescence of her azure eyes becoming glassy whenever she opened them, he intensified the shaking of his hand. Taking the way her hips moved as a cue, he adjusted his fingers and thumb accordingly, opening his fingers wide and pulling them up against her wall, his thumb sliding gracefully to the left side of her clit. He felt such a deep longing to be inside that heat it almost overwhelmed him, especially since she looked so utterly breathtaking in the throes of her pleasure, but he was a man of great restraint. He could be tested, certainly, but never broken. They were equals in that respect.

"Andraste alive!" Hawke cried out in her rapture. "I'm so close! I'm going to...I might...so close!"

"You shouldn't cum, Hawke." Cullen hissed into her ear as he curled his fingers against her spot and shook his hand so violently it felt as though all the muscles in his forearm might snap. "You shouldn't cum now."

Where before the muscles of her cunt had been quivering, they broke into a series of wild spasms around his shaking, curled fingers. A gush of moisture soaked his hand down to the wrist, Hawke's upper body flailing before him, her hips strongly pressing into his hand in repeated pulses. A nonsensical sound escaped her open mouth. After a time, her cunt began relaxing, her arms gliding over his back again, her hips pulling away. Letting his arm take a much needed break, he slowly withdrew it from between her legs. Hawke made a faint noise of approval in her throat before taking his hand in hers and bringing it to her lips. Pausing, she gave him a devious look before she remarked, "I shouldn't lick my juices from your hand."

That was something new. Wide-eyed, he watched, as well as felt, her tongue running up and down his fingers, pausing to lick his wet (and sensitive) palm before sliding her tongue down to the moisture on his wrist. Running her tongue back up, she ran the tips of his two fingers temptingly over her perfect lips before closing her mouth over them. Sucking them, she took them in all the way in, his knuckles the only thing left outside. The sight and sensation of her suction was vaguely similar to something else he didn't dare suggest. Cullen began to withdraw his hand as she sucked, only to begin pushing his fingers when she increased the suction, until he could barely graze the back of her throat. She'd already licked off all her juices, and what she'd missed had long since dried. This, he realized was something she did merely to be suggestive. And in that effort, she was a success.

When she finished, she gave him a sultry look while hooking her finger into the waist of his smallclothes. Cullen took a deep breath, exhaling his next sentence, "You definitely shouldn't take those off." In an instant, she'd pulled them down to his knees, then let them fall to the floor. The image of her sucking on his fingers was still strong in his mind as she took his cock in her hand. The sensation of her bare palm against the skin was so electric he was already close to the edge. Practicing deep breathing to steady himself while she simply held it in a tight grip, he began gasping, "You shouldn't...you shouldn't...Holy Maker!...you shouldn't..."

"What shouldn't I do to you, Cullen?" Hawke demanded to know. "Should I not hold it? Should I not stroke it? Should I not get down on my knees and worship your cock?"

"I want...I feel...you shouldn't...I shouldn't ask..."

"Tell me!" She commanded him. "Tell me what I shouldn't do!"

Losing all sense of hesitation or propriety, he gave her his most intense, challenging stare in memory, and leaned forward. "You, without a doubt, should never suck my cock."

It was a declaration which surprised him, but seemed to embolden Hawke. Gliding down to her knees with as much grace as a dancer, her eyes never leaving his, she positioned her face to bring her lips right in front of his erection. With no help from her hands, she immediately wrapped her mouth around it, drawing it partway in, and the suction...! He began grunting as she slowly took him in deeper, deeper, the sight of it disappearing only heightening the effect. Then, with her nostrils flaring to exhale a rush of breath, she swallowed his cock deep into her throat. Cullen began to moan as she drew back and did it again, her rhythm slow but steady. After a few moments she began to go faster. He let her work at her own pace until her hands moved to his hips and pulled, encouraging him to thrust. Matching her tempo, at first, eventually he felt himself losing all sense and started to push his hips impatiently into her face. After he was thrusting wildly, she started humming urgently onto his cock.

Stopping abruptly, pulling out of her mouth, he collected himself as his moist cock twitched madly in the air between them. He'd been tempted to cum down her throat, to watch her swallow every last drop of his seed, but he had other plans for her and he wouldn't be kept from them. Hawke looked amused he'd decided on his course of action, no doubt pleased with herself for having brought him to the edge as she almost playfully murmured, "Too much?"

Time to return the favor, he decided with a grin. Placing his hands around her waist when she rose, he began stepping into her. Then pushing. "You shouldn't sit on the edge of my desk."

She stepped back, allowing him to push her up to the surface. Bumping up against it, she put her palms on the varnished wood and pushed herself up onto the desk, shoving a stack of papers back with her backside, scattering them over the front of it. Cullen ran his hands down from her waist to her wonderful hips, taking a moment to appreciate the perfectly proportioned curves, then slid his palms over the outside of her thighs as he slowly sank to one knee. Hawke's mouth was slightly open as she watched, her anticipation building as Cullen hooked her legs over his shoulders. Lowering his face between her legs, he inhaled sharply through his nose, taking in her musky aroma.

Then, without any further stalling, he ran his tongue from her perineum up to her clit. Hawke groaned heavily from her chest, her legs beginning to tremble as he brought his tongue back down. After making another pass up to her clit, he paused there, tapping the pearl with the tip of his tongue in firm pulses. Hawke's head rolled back and she began to recline onto her elbows, granting him better access. Cullen began to explore every crevice in her folds, gauging her reaction for the most sensitive areas. Varying tempo, pressure, and location, he waited for her to be panting and making wordless sounds before he slid his tongue to her entrance. When she let out an impatient whine, he firmly thrust his tongue up into her, going as deep as he could. Widening it and curling it up against her wall, he began to flutter it strongly as his nose pressed into her clit. Her legs clamped around his head and her pelvis moved up into his face. Then, as he kept his tongue firmly against her spot and his nose in place, he began to violently shake his head, humming into her body.

The salty-sweet taste of her, the musky scent, the hot feel of her cunt around his tongue all made him feel more driven to claim her than before. Making every action count as he pressed his wildly shaking face into her as firmly as he could, he began grasping his erection to keep it from violently moving in the air. When he deepened his hum to a growl, her feet came around the back of his neck, her entire body shuddering. Hawke wailed loudly in bliss as her juices soaked his face, gushed against his nose, filling his mouth and dripping down his chin. Pulling back he began to let his tongue drift gently again over the now-hypersensitive tissues, keeping her stimulated without being overbearing.

When her legs went slack and she pushed herself upright again, no longer panting and moaning, he stopped to look up at her. The way she looked, her eyes wide and bright, her complexion flushed, her tempting lips parted, her chest rising and falling with every short breath, made her look fiercer than ever, as if she were some untameable force of nature. Wiping his face with the back of his hand, he began to slowly rise, tasting every inch of flesh he could find, marking it as his, until his mouth reached her left nipple. Taking it between his lips, he sucked firmly until he felt her breast stretching to fill his mouth. Her hand rising to the back of his head to encourage it, her words were a gasp: "You shouldn't suck harder, Cullen." When he sucked as hard as he could, she followed up with a sharp, "Oh!"

Pulling back until her nipple escaped his suction with a faint pop, he moved his mouth to the other one, giving it the exact same treatment. She continued to cry out from the mixture of pleasure edged with pain as he sucked. Finally, he released the seal and began nibbling with his teeth. After a few heavy gasps, he pulled back and rose to his full height. He'd been putting off his own pleasure for long enough, and wanted to feel what he'd only been allowing himself to touch or taste. Giving it only a moment's thought as he leaned forward to kiss her again, when he finished, he firmly decided, "You shouldn't face the wall behind us, back turned to me, palms flat against the stone."

With a sultry look, she pushed off the desk and moved around him. Standing between the two windows, she slapped her hands against the wall in a challenging gesture, then thrust her hips back temptingly. Turning her head to catch his eye as he took in the magnificent view of her backside and the lines flowing up to her lovely back, she announced, "You should do anything but fuck me."

Groaning in desire from her choice of words (Hawke had always used the term fuck, rather than some euphemism or more delicate phrasing) he felt a sense of relief as he stepped into her, his cock wildly throbbing against her flesh as he lowered it between her legs to her slick. The feel of hot wet flesh against his cock was almost enough to send him over the edge just from probing it alone. For a time, both he and Hawke were satisfied with the way his cock slid up and down in her wet folds as it searched out her entrance, both moaning and panting in pleasure and anticipation. But when his cock finally found what it was looking for, neither of them felt any urge to wait any longer. Her hips immediately moved into his cock as he began sliding into her cunt.

Taking time to savor every inch, the gliding sensation of her wetness, the strength and power of her cunt folding around him, the molten heat of her, he was losing all sense of time, of reality, of self. Becoming one with her, even their pleasured groan a harmonious unison as he sheathed his cock in the depth of her, it was as if there was no more Hawke, no more Cullen, only one being and one will. With every muscle in his body now tensed to prevent himself from cumming, the feeling he'd lost himself in was his salvation and his damnation, all in an instant. It always had been. Realizing he'd wanted nothing else from the moment she barged into his office, more than that, since the day he'd first laid eyes on her, he found himself shouting almost barbarically as he pulled back and thrust in again.

"You were right!" He found himself confessing loudly as he began circling with his hips, her moans exciting him further. "I shouldn't have started fucking you! I shouldn't keep fucking you! I should stop!" With no reaction from her but another moan and a quiver deep inside her, he pulled back again, growling, "I shouldn't love the way your cunt feels around my cock, so hungry, so eager for me. And the entire reason this is perfect is because we shouldn't be doing this."

"Tell me why!" Hawke gasped just before he thrust deep again. Then, with a short noise, she followed her order up with, "Tell me why we shouldn't!"

"Because," Cullen leaned forward to hiss forcefully into her ear, "you started the mage rebellion, Hawke." Continuing to pull back, to delve deep, to circle, to hold back as her cunt became more urgent in the way it pulsed and tugged and devoured him, he began the litany of her crimes. "You gave shelter to that bastard who destroyed Kirkwall's Chantry. You stopped the annulment. You murdered Templars to accomplish that end. You fled the city rather than face justice."

"And you let me walk away." She retorted through a breath when he pulled back again. When he drove in harder, a response filled with as much anger as desire, she then shouted, "You made innocent mages suffer in the Gallows! How many did you help brand into nothingness under Meredith's reign? Then you helped slaughter half the Circle! I saw the bodies of the children you murdered! I shouldn't be enjoying this anymore than you are!"

"Maker's breath!" He grunted blasphemously when her cunt became suddenly tight, threatening to tear the seed from his body. Desperately restraining himself, letting the pleasure of being on the edge sustain him, he slowed down, circling wider, the pressure around his cock immense in spite of the stretch which made Hawke cry out languidly. Panting heavily, he exclaimed "Sweet blood of Andraste, Hawke! You feel so...!"

"I shouldn't have come here!" She almost sobbed as she filled the space left where he trailed off. "I shouldn't have cared about whether you live or die!"

"Do you?" He wondered, pulling back again, raising an eyebrow. The tone suddenly shifted. What he and Hawke had was passionate, the intensity between them was undeniable, but feelings had never seemed to factor into it before. For a moment, he forgot about the fact his cock was so hard it felt as though it could burst. Reaching out, he tenderly touched her hair. "Do you care about whether I live through this or not?"

After a long pause, her head turned and her eyes firmly locked with his. "Evidently, yes."

"Since when?" Cullen asked, gently gliding all the way in again, pausing there so she could take a deep breath before he reiterated. "When did you start caring about my fate?"

"From the moment you drew your sword to stand with me against Meredith." Hawke murmured in a breathy voice. "I don't love you, Cullen. I'm not capable of it. But I do care."

"Maybe," Cullen mused thoughtfully as he began taking her more gently. "just maybe, this is better than love anyway."

"Then fuck me like you mean it, Cullen." She demanded, the game forgotten, as she pushed her hands firmly into the wall, making her hips roughly collide with his. She felt so wild around his cock when it went deep again, he couldn't help but comply. Beginning to alter shallow thrusts with deep ones, always with the circles, he could feel his heartbeat in his cock as it pulsed within her. And it was better than love, the intense connection they felt, the instinctive nature of an attraction which couldn't be denied, which should never have begun, let alone culminated in this.

After their bodies laying claim to each other for who-knew how long anymore, he slowed to a halt. When she looked back at him, he was backing up to sit on the surface of his desk. Once he was settled there, she pushed away from the wall and turned around. With a shadowy smile on her face, she lifted her leg to hoist herself up over his lap. Straddling his cock, she wrapped her legs around him as she brought her entrance to the tip and gracefully but quickly slid him in so deep he could feel his cock pressed against her back wall. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she made a guttural sound from her chest, her arms coming around his neck to steady herself. Cullen thrust up with his hips and held there to heighten the effect for both of them, about to lose it from the way her cunt massaged him so greedily.

Hawke began grinding into him, rubbing his cock into her spot, her pelvis sliding over his. Doing everything he could to hold his position, he was gasping and panting from more than just the tension in his muscles: Her cunt began to spasm around him, to milk him as she rose and fell to grind into him. He felt his body radiating. Knowing he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer, he gritted his teeth and focused as hard as he could. All he had to do was outlast Hawke. From the looks of things, the way she became more intense with her movements, the sight of her head falling back with her mouth wide open, how she was arching her back, the sheer force of her cunt, he knew it wouldn't be long now. Taking in a deep breath and holding it in, he closed his eyes for a moment.

It was her shrill cry of ecstasy which prompted him to open them again and, as a rush of heat and moisture flooded him, he finally let go, shouting, "Cum with me, Hawke! Cum hard!"

"Yes!" The sound of her affirmation rang in his ears, adding even more intensity to his orgasm as his entire pelvic area contracted, seamen leaving him in a rush of repeated bursts as her cunt devoured his orgasm with her own. All her muscles were impossibly strong around him, not allowing an inch of movement from his cock, but they moved (Oh, how they moved!) as every last drop was squeezed out of him. Still hard when he finished, he still held his position, waiting for her own climax to subside, rather than bringing her out of it too suddenly. When she was finally collapsed over him, spent, he wrapped his arms around her while she breathed, "No one's ever been able to make me cum the way you do, you know that?"

"I didn't." He smiled smugly at the information. "But I'm glad you thought to tell me."

"Don't get cocky." Hawke rolled her eyes as she pulled back to look at him. "You're already too self-righteous to tolerate."

"I'm not the only one." Cullen pointed out with a smirk. "Speaking of self-righteous, how's the terrorist."

"I really wouldn't know." She stiffened as she moved off of him. "I haven't spoken to Anders since I left the Free Marches."

"Oh." He muttered awkwardly. "I'm sorry. I thought..."

"That we were lovers or something?" Hawke gave him a snide look. "No. We were close and I believed in his cause. But that's where it stopped."

Pausing, he considered arguing with her again, but what good would it do? Instead, he considered that moment of tenderness they'd shared, when she told him she cared about him. Had it only been in the heat of passion? Pushing himself off the desk, he looked her in the eyes as she began stretching her arms up. With a hesitant tone, he wondered, "Hawke, people say a lot of things during sex. Sometimes things they don't mean or only mean in the moment and..."

"I don't say things I don't mean." She shrugged as she began collecting her clothes and armor. "Not even during sex."

"Alright." Cullen nodded, digesting the information, unsure what to do with it.

Hawke seemed not to notice his awkwardness, merely dressing herself efficiently. By the time he'd gotten half clothed, she was fully armored, watching him with her former steely gaze. Cullen stopped for a moment when she informed him in an almost professional tone, "I'll speak to you another time."

"I don't know whether that's encouraging, or the opposite." He admitted sheepishly as he continued putting pieces of his armor on.

Hawke replied, "It just is."

Then, as abruptly as she'd come in, she turned and marched out the door.