Bittersweet Memories

Cullen relaxes in his office at Skyhold and fantasizes about his first love in spite of his relationship with the Inquisitor.

For my dear friend, askeebe. (I hope you feel better soon!)

She looked so much like her, it was painful at first. The Inquisitor, with her cascades of golden-brown hair and blue eyes that shone like a glacier, was so much like his Warden that his first meeting with her was mostly him gaping at her like a trout out of water. Even her voice was similar – rich and sweet, maybe a little breathy when she was excited about something.

Cullen Rutherford thought he firmly pushed his treasured memory of Solona Amell back into a locked cabinet, never to return. He didn't want to remember her running around the Tower, robes a little too long but breasts bouncing in all the right ways as she jogged to make it to class on time. She always had one too many books in her arms, and her poor staff was frequently dropped in favor of protecting an old tomb on elemental magic. He loved the light in her eyes as she giggled at something funny Anders said, or the way she tilted her chin upwards and chewed on a quill as she completed her studies.

Anders, he growled to himself, surprised at the amount of anger that name still retrieved. What a disaster of epic proportions. He never thought the mage was a good influence on any of them, but he passed his Harrowing with one of the fastest records ever seen by Kinloch Hold and was deemed safe, if not a bit silly. And his escapes, Maker preserve him. Solona helped Anders on two separate occasions, but she never got more than a slap on the wrist.

Watching her leave with Duncan was one of the hardest days of his life. She would never return – Warden mages weren't beholden to the Chantry for supervision. He remember her shy greeting that very morning. Ser Cullen, she said, her voice like honey. She dipped into a soft curtsy, allowing him full view of her breasts over the top of her robes that she always altered to allow for an open neck.

Miss Amell, he answered, licking his lips behind his helmet. At the base of her curtsy, she would always look back up to him and smile coquettishly, knowing exactly what she was doing. What a tease. It pained him to hold himself in check, to use his training to keep his arousal internal as she flounced off to another floor to attend to her duties.

Even now, sitting at his desk high atop the Frostback Mountains in Skyhold, he couldn't stop thinking of her. Her lips were pink and pouty from her habit of biting her lower lip in concentration or embarrassment. Jowan said something to her the morning of his disappearance, and she looked to him worriedly, nearly severing her lip from the rest of her mouth. Hindsight being what it was, he should have known she was asked to do something she didn't want to do. He knew her every tell, every micro-expression on her lovely, freckled face.

Cullen… her voice echoed in his memories, perhaps more sensual than it was in reality, but his Memory Solona was just his, just for him. She dipped too low, leaned a little too far forward, and her breasts released themselves from her robes. Whatever am I to do? Can't you help me put them back, Ser Cullen? They may just fit in your hands.

With a glance out the door into the darkened courtyard, he closed the doors to his office and returned to his desk, slowly trailing his hand from his stomach to the waist of his breeches. "Solona," he breathed. Fingertips lightly brushed his skin under his shirt, cool touches against the bonfire burning in his chest. His heart thudded as he teased the blond trail from his navel south, trying to imagine her small hands and long, dexterous fingers better suited to a musician than a mage locked in a gilded prison, tracing the same path.

Oh! Please do hurry. My nipples are ever so cold.

"But Solona, what if someone sees?" he whispered. His eyes remained closed as he slipped two fingers below his belt, his groin already tightening at the thought of her delicate hands reaching for his robes.

We're all alone, Ser. This cavern is ever so stuffy. Since when were they in the storage cavern below the tower? Please protect me from all the spiders! The only way to save us is to touch me.

"If you insist." His voice was quiet as he pulled at the laces to his breeches, freeing his already engorged cock from his tight smalls. "Oh, Solona, your nipples are so dusky," he murmured. He imagined her breasts' significant weight and size, the round globes too big to be held in his callused hands. They were frequently the talk of the tower – the men all wished to bury their faces or cocks between them, and the girls always wished they had her cleavage.

He allowed his helmet to clatter to a wooden tabletop and then he was upon her, gripping with his muscled hands and nipping and licking the hardening peaks with his mouth. She sighed her breathy sigh and tilted her head, exposing the soft dip of her collarbone and curve of her neck. He worked his way up to her neck, lightly kissing and sucking her pale skin. She flushed from his attentions and moaned, this time deeper and more guttural. Her right hand darted between her legs and he watched in fascination as she struggled to maintain any sense of propriety as she rubbed her sensitive nub.

Oh, please Cullen, let me taste you.

His own hand finally touched the head of his cock, smearing the slickness over the head and slit, groaning deeply. Memory Solona dipped to her knees and pulled at his Templar robes, finally flipping them over her head and covering herself completely. He couldn't see her movement and had no idea how she would touch him. Every lick and tug was torturous bliss, mimicked in his own light touches and jerks. One hand cupped his balls and gently tightened as the other began to stroke, his juices almost enough to let his hand slide freely.

Solona stopped and positioned herself over the table, pulling her robes to her waist and presenting her glistening lips to him, beckoning him to enter her. A loud moan escaped his ever tightening jaw as he tried to maintain control. She was so tight, so wet, and he could hear the slap of his bare thighs against hers as he pounded into her.

His hand began to move faster of its own free will after he spit on his palm, slicking the calloused skin of his sword hand. Faster, deeper, he thought. His hips bucked to meet his tight fist and he moaned again as a slow fire began to burn deep in his stomach. His abs began to tighten as he neared completion, and he struggled to hold back his orgasm. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his face contorted into a grimace.

She looked over her shoulder, blue eyes meeting hazel, her mouth open and eliciting the sweetest of gasps as he continued to pound into her. Cullen, oh Cullen! Oh, Maker! You fill me up just right, Ser! You're the only one I want! Solona continued to cry in his mind as he tried to fuck the meaning of life from her tight, wet pussy. She bit her lip and came, her cries echoed by his own wail as he spent his seed over his hand and desk.

Bonelessly, he sat back in his desk chair and used the underside of his cloak to wipe away his shame. Solona was everything he wanted, but everything a Templar should never have. Maker, what was he doing to the Inquisitor? Sarah was everything he wanted in a partner, maybe even a wife, but Solona would always be his first love, the one he compared to every other woman he met.

"Pain, so much pain. Deep, dark pain and shame and such horrible memories. Shall I make the pain go away?" a voice asked in the darkness. Cullen looked around his office and quickly tucked himself back into his breeches and laced them up once more. The rafters were dark, but he swore he saw movement. "I will take the memories away, and there will be no more pain."

"No, wait! What?"

It was almost as if a fog descended, dulling his senses. He swore he was thinking of someone, of something. What was it? Who was it? Someone precious to him?

"Cullen? Are you okay?" The Inquisitor walked into his office and was immediately by his side, touching his sweaty forehead and noting his shaking hands. "Are you ill? Come back to my room – I'll take care of you tonight."

He couldn't argue with her – she was the love of his life. Never had he loved another woman as much as Sarah. "You needn't bother, my dear," he slurred. It was hard to grasp the desk to stand. Was it the lyrium withdrawals? His arms and legs were weighty, like he ran a marathon or performed every sword stance an hour too long.

"You mustn't work yourself so hard. The Inquisition will survive for one night without you." She smiled over her shoulder to him, a coquettish grin crinkling her eyes.

"Mmm, okay, Solona," he said quietly.

"What did you say, dear?" she asked, slinging an arm under his to help him stand upright.

"Nothing, love. I didn't say anything at all."