The moody flicker of a sea of candles is the only source of light in the Inquisitor's quarters. It's quiet except for the growing fire's crackle. Outside the sun has long set and the first stars are making a tentative appearance on the ebony night sky.
Cullen is sitting on the plush chaise longue reading without much concentration. Childlike anticipation is drawing a grin onto his face, and it widens when he hears footfalls from below.
He was finished before her for once, though by no means early. Knowing she was going to have a long day, he excused himself to sneak up here.
His grin widens and excitement flutters in his stomach as the door below clicks. The slow, heavy fall of steps betrays her fatigue. When it draws closer he puts the book aside and stands to meet her.
A head of stress-tousled hair appears, and heavy-lidded eyes widen in astonishment before her head rolls sideways and an awed smile softens her tired features. Now and then he'll prepare this for her, but it's seldom enough to still be a surprise.
Her eyes begin to shimmer, and her mouth opens. But Cullen has closed the distance between them, and an index finger on her lips shushes her. She presses a kiss onto its tip then squeals as he picks her up and brings her to sit down on the small sofa.
He's put out her night clothes and helps her into them- though he can't help but think the uniform she's shedding resembles them a little too much.
When she's done he gets on his knees and rolls the bottoms up beyond her calves. He pulls up a wide porcelain bowl and places her feet inside, one after the other. Her wince at the touch and the faint hint of sweat are a testament to how swollen and exhausted they are. When they sink into the steaming water she sighs, resting her head against the seat.
Sandalwood and orange blossom waft up from the bowl, and she hums at the pleasant smell. Cullen reaches over to the small side table and hands her a mug. He's brewed her favourite tea, and the heady smell of herbs mixes in with the infused water's aroma.
They sit in silence for a few minutes while her feet soak, and Cullen watches the play of light and shadow across her face as it relaxes, the frown diminishing.
Now and then he'll dip a finger inside the bowl. When he finds the water has cooled he grabs a towel, the softest he could find. Wrapping her feet in it, he gives them a gentle rub. She smiles, pats his hair before he bids her to lean back.
Cullen pulls up a small basket from beside him holding a set of small, dark bottles. He likes to try out different oils- it could be elderflower one time and a citrus concoction the next.
Tonight it's roses.
A small moan pours from her lips when his slick palms close around her right foot. He smiles up at her and places a kiss onto her leg. Then he begins.
At first his thumbs dig into her sole, rubbing the soothing essence in deep just above the heel. She groans at the pressure, accepts it knowing its benefits. He works his way up the elegant arch of her foot, lips following thumbs, coaxing the dearest little sighs out of her.
When he's arrived at her toes he tends to each of them individually. He massages up their stubby length, rolls them around, grins at the sound she makes when one of them crackles. Every toe gets a kiss before he moves on.
The top of her foot gets the same thorough, tender treatment, and he works his way upwards to finishes with little circles of his thumbs around her ankle. She groans. He chuckles and plants one last peck on her right foot.
By the time he's finished with the left she's purring, melted under his touch. Cullen rolls down her sleep pants. Rising from his kneeling position, he covers her in kisses and gentle tickles- her thighs, stomach, wrists, chest, neck.
When they're face to face her half-open eyes are blazing. Ardour swells in his chest as his lips find her left cheek, her right, then the tip of her nose before they share a kiss- warm, lazy and affectionate.
As he lifts her sluggish form up this time he has to make sure she's holding on to him before he carries her over to the bed.
He sets her down, pulls up the covers and crawls in beside her. Long tresses fan out on soft pillows, and it's not long before her eyelids flutter shut. Propped up on an elbow, he soaks up the calming scents radiating from her, watches her drift off as the flicker dies down, leaving them under the veil of night.
Sometimes they end up making love after a massage, slow, deep and sweet- but not tonight.
It doesn't bother him. Because he loves watching her fall asleep just as much.