It was some time after midnight when he woke. Though he was far from his desk, he could feel the pull of the blue, and with a groan he rolled over onto his feet, pushing aside the heavy blankets and grabbing his surcoat. Sleep would not be returning, he knew, unaided by the growing whispers. Shuffling out of his tent he stretched, yawning, blinking against the change in light as he slipped on the fur to ward off the nights chill.

He could hear Bull - or Varric - snoring softly over the snap of the fire, could hear the nickering of the horses. As his eyes adjusted he noticed the fire was better tended than he expected for the hour and he padded over, warming his bare hands.

"Couldn't sleep?"

His hands immediately reached for his missing sword before he realized that it was Evelyn, curled up in a blanket across from him. He relaxed. "Nights aren't always easy," he shrugged, crouching down on his side of the fire. "What's your excuse?"

"Skyhold spoils me. It takes a little while to adjust to the bedroll sometimes." She chuckled, adding, "and Sera is a very active sleeper." He was struck for a moment at the way her hair caught the firelight, red hues mixing with the brown like a tree in Harvestmere. He'd seen it a thousand times before but this time seemed different and it took him a little while to realize it wasn't braided anymore, hung over her shoulders wavy and long.

He gave her a sleepy smile. "Why did you bring her?"

"Because if she's here, I can keep an eye on what pranks she wants to pull, rather than have her drive Josie mad at Skyhold. And she is a wonderful archer." She was watching him, and he knew she saw the dark circles under his eyes, the unkempt bed head, the simmering frustration. "Since you're up, there's fresh brewed tea."

He went to refuse, but she was already up and straining him a mug from the kettle, making a second for herself. She padded over to his side, tucking her legs underneath herself as she got comfortable before pushing the warm mug into his hands. Cullen smiled ingenuously as she snuggled back into her blanket beside him, blue eyes reflecting the golden fire as she watched the flames, bringing her own mug up to her lips to blow on it in an attempt to cool the bitter brew.

He'd never wanted to kiss her more.

Her gaze flickered to him, concern etched in her brow. "Does it bother you, the fact that we have to play the Game here?"

"No, it's just... Yes?" He shifted awkwardly, tired brain still registering echoes of the blue as he remembered the way the Comte's cousin had sized him up. He made a disgusted noise as he plopped the ground proper and let his legs stretch out in front of him, nursing the tea.

"It's because it's the same, isn't it? Not knowing which part is real." To his surprise, she leant against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, I should have found a reason for you not to come. I can make up an excuse for you not to join us for breakfast, if you want?"

"I'll be okay." She was looking up at him, and smiled gently at his response. Feeling brave, he wrapped his arm around her, not caring if the Comte still had eyes on them. "I'm Ferelden, they'll think it's charming if I'm grouchy, I'm sure." He rested his head on top of hers, letting his eyes close, relishing the closeness.

"You are charming," she chuckled, nuzzling into his chest. She'd been awake for a while already and knew the rest of the camp was fast asleep. "I have to play. I have to smile, to be polite and appreciate the attention. But you don't, if you don't want to. I'd never make you play; you and Sera can go pull pranks if you want, it's very therapeutic."

He flushed, blaming it on the fire as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "But if I'm helping her pull pranks, we won't be able to get lost in the woods together."

She laughed, entertaining the thought of him running around with the elf as she pushed herself back up to a sit. "I'm not sure which I prefer."

"You're supposed to say you'd rather be alone with me," he murmured, amber eyes dangerous in the firelight, smile brazen.

It was her turn to blush and she bit her lower lip, trying hard to ignore the incredibly sinful things her mind wanted her to do. "Forgive me. And if I had said that?" She set her mug aside carefully, not breaking eye contact, daring him to act.

Maker, but she was going to be the death of him. He was less careful with his mug, practically tossing the half-drunk beverage aside as he pulled her in, kissing with a gentle insistence. She squeaked in surprise, but quickly recovered, the blanket falling off her shoulders as she buried her hands - one in fur, one in golden, sleep induced curls - and crawled into his lap. He chuckled against her lips, gathering her hair out of the way with one hand as he deepened the kiss, the other trailing a lazy swirl down her side. Once he reached her hip he reversed direction, fingers ghosting back up.

She nipped his lower lip and chased it with her tongue as she dropped the one hand from his head to his chest, flexing experimentally to see if he'd fall back. He held firm with a low growl and she shivered at the sound, feeling the heat coil low. The warmth from the fire was nothing compared to what she could feel below her hand and again she bit his lower lip, again chasing it with her tongue, a frustrated whine escaping her.

He kept the one hand tangled in her locks at the nape of her neck as he broke the kiss, eyes wicked as he dropped the other to her hip again. Pulling her in, down, Cullen growled again at the pressure it created, hating himself for needing her, wanting her like this. Knowing it couldn't go much further and not caring to stop.

She moaned at the friction he'd created, knowing she should have stopped him before, feeling his self-control waver as he kissed her again, tongue sweeping hers. "Cullen-" she tried, murmuring against his mouth, but he tightened his grip on her hip in response, deepening the kiss, giving no quarter.

It was hard not to give in completely when there was so little in the way already; they'd both shed their armor for sleep and all that separated them were two similar layers of cotton, one of fur, the blanket lost. Evelyn tried to move back, but the action ground her hips against his and his rough moan against her mouth was so perfectly indecent she couldn't bear to leave him.

Cullen untangled his hand from her hair to caress the side of her face, starting another lazy path down her body as he broke their kiss to nuzzle into her neck, nipping lightly before soothing with a kiss, his stubble scratching as he raised his head to whisper in her ear.

"Come to bed with me."

She bit her lower lip, shivering from the words as much as the sensation of his breath on her ear, feeling the knot of heat coil again. His voice was husky, low, the exact pitch that made those sinful thoughts surface again, and she wanted, Andraste preserve me, she wanted him. She could feel his heart hammering in his chest; could feel his arousal. She meant to shake her head, to tell him no, to remind him of the Comte close at hand and their friends even closer, to tell him to go to bed and take care of his needs however he must, but to do so alone.

Instead she rose to her feet at last, hand trailing from his fur as she sauntered a path to his tent.

Cullen stared dumbly for a moment before scrambling to his feet, following like an obedient puppy.

It was a sight he wanted to remember. She sat on his bedroll with her legs crossed, braiding her hair slowly as she watched him enter. Her lower lip caught between her teeth, a smirk on her lips, her undershirt falling off one shoulder, eyes dark even before the flap fell and blocked out most of the firelight. In the self-imposed dusk of the tent he could tell she was still watching him and he quickly shrugged out of his surcoat, tossing it at her feet before removing his undershirt.

Evelyn was sure she was going to draw blood from her lip, watching him strip in the hazy half-light, but she couldn't tear her eyes away. The braid was messy but functional as she forced it into a bun, trapping it in place as best she could with a ribbon. Hands free, she reached for him and he dropped to his knees, trapping her in another kiss all too gladly. She let him have control for a moment, her fingers skimming his chest, his hands at the nape of her neck and tilting her chin up to him.

For a moment, she let him drink his fill.

She pushed him back with a sudden, forceful shove, reversing their positions as easily as if she was knocking his leg out when they sparred, driving him down onto his back with a sultry giggle. A guttural "Maker's breath!" escaped him as she nipped at his collarbone before tracing a line of kisses down his chest, pausing when she reached his waistband to look up at him. Her fingers had followed her path down and perched expectantly on either side as she tilted her head questioningly.

There were so many things he wanted to say that were utterly lost as he stared back at her, breathless, half raised on his elbows. He swallowed at the sight of the cheeky grin on her face, could feel her breath, hot, above his painfully obvious arousal. He was torn between staying in this moment forever, and letting her continue.

His dazed look drew another sultry laugh from her and she kissed a trail along the waistband, nipping his hip as her fingers worked nimbly to untie the laces with slow and deliberate precision. He tried to sit up, to help, to tug at her shirt but she pushed him back down with ease. "Just watch," she hummed, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before resuming her work, sliding his breeches down as a moan tumbled from him.

Her fingers trailed fire up his legs before hooking the band of his smalls and again she paused, eyes dark and irresistible, waiting on the same unspoken agreement from before to come from him. He tried to grab her hands and pull her back up to him but she easily broke his grasp and pinned his arms, tsk'ing and rewarding the effort with another small bite to the crook of his neck.

"Is there some part of watching that's hard for you, Commander?" she teased against his ear, honey and silk in her tone, his title spoken with irrepressible yearning.

Cullen shook his head, catching her mouth with his for another kiss before she pulled away, releasing him and returning her hands to his waist as she sat in his lap. She gave her hips a little twirl and bit her lower lip as he groaned from the pressure, his hands raising to touch her but dropping as he remembered her words, not wanting to stop her again. Evelyn chuckled at his display of willpower and made her way back down to her earlier position, this time not teasing him and instead pulling his smalls aside. She let him finish kicking them off as she took in the sight of him, once more propped up on his elbows and staring at her like a love drunk fool. He could feel his cock twitch, eager.

"You're still dressed," he pointed out, a note of sadness in his voice that was easily overwhelmed by the ardor in his eyes as he took in the curve of her body between his legs, her hands, bare against his hips, the smoldering reverence of her expression as she met his gaze head on.

"Because this isn't about me," she murmured, pressing a kiss to the inside of his thigh just above his knee and making him gasp. "I can't stay, but I wanted..." Evelyn trailed off, shrugging uselessly before kissing the inside of his other thigh, working her way back up his legs. He felt like an untried boy before her, powerless to stop the starved moan from escaping his throat as she took him in hand and mouth. It was exquisite and too much and he never wanted her to stop.

His arms shook but he wanted - needed - to watch her, amber gaze catching hers whenever she glanced up. She smiled every time she did, and every time he had to bite back a moan. Her one hand set the rhythm at the base of his shaft, her other tracing patterns on his skin. She was slow, almost torturous with her ministrations, but every kiss, every lick, every swallow was air to a drowning man.

She took her time, puzzling out what made him squirm and pant beneath her. She laughed every time he mumbled incomprehensibly, driving him to the edge with dedication and devotion. He watched, as ordered, willing himself to be quiet, trying to commit her to memory, eyes squeezing shut whenever her fingers trailed over his sack, hips twitching with little spasms whenever she ran her tongue down the sensitive underside of his length.

Her grin was wicked when she pulled away, leaving him teetering as she traced a path back up to his mouth. She kissed him deep as she straddled him, letting friction take over what her ministrations had started, one hand helping, the other tracing whorls on his bicep. He collapsed onto his back, his arms giving out while he gave in, letting the high wash over him, fist in mouth as she chuckled above him, unconcerned with the sticky wetness pooling between them. He gazed at her for a long time, part of him ashamed, part of him delirious, all of him utterly and hopelessly lost.

Finally, he convinced his heavy limbs to move and pulled himself up to meet her. The right hand desperately wound its way into her hair, the messy braid spilling out of the bun as he tangled himself up in it. His other hand gripped her waist, keeping her close as he pressed his forehead to hers. "Real?" he begged, breathless, lost either way.

"Real," she nodded, lips ghosting over his, "and yours."

He growled despite himself, fingers clenching as desire ran through him. His breath returned slowly, and he remembered with a jolt that she was still dressed. "I- I feel bad, you didn't..." He trailed off, unsure how to continue.

She chuckled, kissing his cheek. "It's fine. There will just have to be a next time." She paused, suddenly disquieted. "I mean, if- if you want a next time. If you want... Me." She had gotten quiet, shy, and he almost missed the last word.

"Maker, of course I want-" Too eager, Rutherford, he scolded himself. "Of course," he tried again, voice sultry as he pressed a kiss to her forehead in return.

"Oh." She smiled, sweet, a contrast to the devious gleam in her eye. "That's good, because... Words."

It was his turn to chuckle. "Yes. Words."