Author's Note: I need to first say that I am so so sorry that I didn't update when I said I would! When I got back to the US, my friends kidnapped me for several days, and I suffered some serious jet lag (I slept for 16 hours straight... ugh) before getting sick, which is where I am now. Sick. Bleh.

But anyways, I didn't put this note here to complain, I just wanted to tell you all that I'm sorry and I didn't willingly abandon you guys. But I will be utterly busy for the next week, so don't expect the next update for a week or so.

Also, this chapter is very not safe for work. You have been warned ;)

Toriana was sick of being miserable. She was sick of being alone, of mourning everything she'd lost. She wanted to feel something – anything – that wasn't pain, and in that moment of weakness, of need, she turned to Cullen. And perhaps she was making a big mistake, perhaps she would regret this after the fact, but right now she didn't care one bit. She emptied her mind of her sorrow and pain, of her nervousness and doubts, and thought only of the man in her arms.

Though her body was cold, her mouth was hot. She tasted the same as she had that night in Kirkwall, minus the flavor of ale, and smelled like her scent and rainwater. One of her hands was trailing through the hair at the back of Cullen's neck, the other grasping at the shirt on his back, and she pressed her entire body against him as if he was the only thing keeping her on earth.

And oh, Maker, she was quickly warming up against him, her soft curves fitting against his solid chest as if they were made for each other. He couldn't think, couldn't find the state of mind to pull back and ask why she was suddenly doing this, because when he buried his hand in her wet hair she moaned against his mouth and it was all he could do to keep control over himself.

It was everything he had imagined, and at the same time so much more. She was more experienced than him, he could tell easily by the commanding way she pressed her hips against his and nibbled on his lip. And those noises coming from her! The moans and half-whimpers and gasps, they went into his ears and then straight down, fueling his desire for her in a way that made him feel like some wild animal, groaning and pulling slightly on her hair to tilt her head back so he could taste the skin on her neck.

It was working. Toriana's plan was working. With Cullen's lips brushing against her neck she was no longer miserable, she no longer thought of Pater and Tomas and everyone else. She only thought of the feelings he was awakening in her, the heat between her legs that throbbed achingly when he gently bit her just above her collarbone.

She snaked her hand down his chest to rub along his insistent erection over his pants and was rewarded when his breath became labored and his kisses along her neck slowed. And then she untied the ties to his pants and slipped her hand inside to grasp him, unable to help her smile when he stopped tasting her skin and let out a strangled gasp, his fingers tightening in her hair as he groaned into her neck. The sound sent delighted thrills of arousal down her spine.

He couldn't breath. Maker, he couldn't breathe with her hand around him so firmly and stroking in just the right way to make his hips jerk. He gasped against her neck as she touched him, unable to think of anything but the feel of her hand, the breeze of her breath on his neck, the smell of her filling his nose. He wasn't even conscious of the rain still falling on them, dripping from their hair and soaking into their clothes. Then she was pulling his chin up with her free hand and kissing him with an intensity that both surprised and aroused him, and when his fingers found one of her nipples and gently squeezed she moaned into his mouth and her hand tightened around him, eliciting a mirroring sound of pleasure from him.

Now she was wrapping one arm around his shoulders and pulling him down to the ground on top of her, and he was being carried away too quickly by a river of pleasure and desire to stop and think about what he was doing, to question whether or not it was a good idea to be doing it. She was hot beneath him, her hand guiding him so he was pressing against her entrance, and Maker help him this was so different than his only other sexual experience at the Blooming Rose because Toriana was twisting and burning and gasping for him in a way that the lady he had been with hadn't. Where the prostitute had been businesslike and distant, pulling out a lubricating oil that had felt cold on his skin, Toriana was passionate and excited, her natural wetness warm and inviting and utterly arousing because he knew it was for him.

Cullen didn't even have any time to doubt himself, to panic that he wasn't experienced enough for this, to think that he would do something wrong and ruin everything, because she was lifting her hips up to him and he was instinctively pressing down to meet her. She was slick and tight around him, and he felt a spike of pleasure shoot through his body that made him nearly lose control and end it all before it truly began. But the discipline of a Templar life was useful, and he regained control over himself and began sliding in and out in a smooth, steady pace.

Toriana couldn't help the moan that escaped her mouth as he pushed inside of her, the feeling both invasive and wholly satisfying at the same time as he filled her completely and began the rhythm set by nature since the dawn of life. She could feel the heat building, coiling inside of her faster than she had ever before experienced, but it wasn't enough. There was something restrained in the way he was moving at such an even pace, as if he was holding himself back. That had to change. She wanted all of him, and she wanted him now.

When she wrapped her legs firmly around him, dug her fingernails into his back, pressed her mouth to his ear and whispered in a breathless, throaty voice, "Faster," all of his control was shattered. He thrust faster, feeling the heady pressure in his stomach build as he moved, egged on by the loud noises she was making, no longer muffled by his kisses. She was grasping him tighter, her fingernails biting his skin and her legs sliding up his waist so he could bury himself deeper, even deeper inside of her.

And then she was arching against him, crying out in release as she spasmed and tightened around him. He had already been teetering on the edge precariously, and now he was pushed over, his entire body flooding with the overwhelming feeling of an orgasm as he emptied inside of her, calling her name in a rush of pleasure and passion.

Toriana couldn't move at first, and it had nothing to do with Cullen's weight pressing comfortably down on top of her. Her muscles had turned to jelly, her mind still swimming and tingling with the aftereffects of her orgasm, and so she just lay there calmly beneath him, panting, as he pressed breathless kisses to her neck.

But inside she was experiencing battling feelings of happiness, regret, guilt… and something she was terrified to name. When he had called out her name, and now as he gently trailed kisses up her neck towards her mouth, she had had a rush of feeling. A feeling she had felt with Alistair, only so much stronger, more forceful and tangled with other feelings that she just couldn't sort out.

Thoughts of Alistair sent a crippling wave of guilt crashing over her, and before Cullen's lips could find her own she was pulling away, trying to wriggle her way out from beneath him. He looked confused, but he pulled back and let her get up, watching silently as she pulled her shift back down to cover herself before she – without sending one word or one glance his way – turned and walked unsteadily away with one thought in her mind.

What had she done?