Cullen caught her for the kiss, the scratch of callouses scoring along her jaw, his other hand running warmly down her back as he pressed his lips to hers. She still saw his eyes in her mind, bright and excited, sparking with anticipation, as though he'd been just as anxious for this moment as she was. Of course he would have been, despite whatever whispers of insecurity she felt upon the approach to Skyhold. If he had continued to love her for years now, what difference would a week and half traveling to Crestwood make?
Even after the rush to get to him, the kiss that followed once she'd been enclosed within in his arms started slow. The luscious pillows of his lips settled tenderly upon hers like a satiny caress, gently suckling and exploring, drinking her in with an exultant sigh. But despite the gentle dance of their lips, her arms gripped him with all her strength, pulling at that vast expanse of his broad back in an attempt to get him closer, feeling metal and fur and drapes of a lush fabric as her palms sought out the familiar swells of the flesh beneath. The chamber of the Skyhold entrance had gone quiet, the rest of her party having departed and the remaining guards chittering under their breath as their footsteps scurried to and fro, but Avery only heard it distantly. Her focus was swallowed up in the meeting of their tongues, of the warm air that whispered along her cheek as he exhaled through his nose, in the delicate strokes of his fingers combing through her hair. She had to stifle a satisfied groan as his gentle touch raised goosebumps down her back and along her arms, and she wished for probably the millionth time in their lives that his blasted armor wasn't standing in the way of feeling his body up against hers.
"Thank you for writing me," Cullen said quietly after he pulled away, resting his forehead on hers.
"I'm sorry it's a few years late," she answered, feeling the sad pang of regret at the memory of his letters.
"Well, it was worth the wait."
She kissed him again, and it seemed like each second that their mouths met was replenishing her very life force. She leaned completely up against him, closing her eyes and sighing contentedly, heart swollen and singing with joy. This was it. She was home.
He stepped away for a moment to pick up her pack, and wrapped his arm around her waist to lead her out the door to the courtyard. She was increasingly aware of how grungy she was after the trip, her hair hanging heavy with grease, the layer of clothing below her armor the same one she'd put on several days before, just after they'd finally gotten out of the rain.
"Once the watchmen alerted me that you were over the last mountain pass I had them start filling a bath in your room," Cullen said, as though reading her mind. "I hope you don't mind that I let them in. I, um, took a few other liberties as well." He glanced at her out the corner of his eye as they climbed the winding stairs up to the battlements toward his tower, both grinning bashfully back and forth. Watching the smile he kept holding back only made her own spread more and more out of her control.
"Commander," she began through straining cheeks, "please feel free to take as many liberties with me as you would like. I encourage it."
He laughed softly, his face blushing a light shade of pink. "I will keep that in mind."
He opened the door to his tower and let her walk in first, setting her pack down along the wall and then turning to stand before her, appraising her with a pleased smile as he picked up her hand and brought it to his lips.
"Well I ordered us a larger tub, for starters," he explained, and then pressed a kiss onto her hand, "and I might have moved a few of your things into my quarters."
"Oh?" she asked, deeply surprised.
"You should still keep your room of course, since I'll need the office for meetings and such during the day. But there's no reason you need to sleep there," he said, laying on another light kiss.
"I doubt we'll be doing much sleeping even in your quarters, Commander."
"Our quarters now," he corrected with a smirk. "And you're right about that."
She glanced down at her feet, and then around at his office, once again in full disbelief at everything that was happening.
"It's not too soon is it?" he asked quietly.
"Not at all," she answered, looking back up into the changing browns of his eyes, feeling a little lightheaded. She was reminded of words from one of his letters, when he said that he'd felt blinded when he looked into her face. She was experiencing exactly that, with this unfairly beautiful man before her, continuing to offer her exactly what she'd never dreamed could be possible. But it was, it was real and it was happening now, even as that little voice in the back of her mind nagged that it all had to be too to be true. She swallowed hard and tried to compose her thoughts, but her heart was racing. She felt as nervous as if they were starting over from the very beginning.
"We've already waited a very long time, Cullen. I don't want to hold back now that we finally have this chance." Her words came out shaky and he took another step closer, his lips still curled into a gentle smile. Maker, he was intoxicating. She ran her eyes over the features of his face, that scar that just seemed to get better each time she looked at it, the imposing pauldrons that made him seem almost beastly. Certainly more imposing than his Knight-Captain armor ever was.
"I can still hardly believe this is real," she said, realizing that her knees had begun to feel like jelly. She didn't know if she'd ever felt so nervous in front of him before. How strange that the letters about how much he loved her seemed to reduce her to a puddle of quivering insecurity, possibly the exact opposite effect that they would have had on any other reasonable person.
He took another step forward, cornering her against the wall and tilting her face back up so that he could gently rest his forehead against hers again. He sighed, brushing their noses together lightly, his thumb brushing against her cheek while his other hand clutched at the crest of her hip, holding her steady.
"Me either. I have loved you for so long Avery," he said. "I don't want to hold back either. I couldn't."
"Good," she whispered breathlessly, a fire suddenly igniting, flaring hot under her skin. "Don't."
She took his mouth with a renewed urgency, focusing all her attention on the joining of their lips, the deep explorations of her tongue, needing to taste him, to make love to that beautiful mouth of his. She heard a slight whimper escape her throat as she clutched him close, her hands still seeking around his armor for a place to land that would let her knead at the flesh beneath. She had to settle for running one hand down the back of his neck, slipping below the collar of his metal plate to the hot, soft skin between his muscled shoulders. Her other hand finding the curve of his buttocks, gripping that perfect mound of flesh and pulling his hips against hers. She whimpered again as his solid bulge made contact with the pulsing center of her sex, grinding deeply into the root of her hips and sounding off a peal of ecstatic sensation that rocked through her body. One of his thighs worked its way between hers, pressing into her until she groaned at the need for more of him.
She was on the verge of pulling her leathers straight off when she was reminded of how badly she needed to bathe. She was covered in grime and a frozen layer of three day old sweat, plus her hair was a mess. It was a desperate struggle to pull away, to unlock her lips from his mouth, and she panted with the effort as she finally forced herself to fall back against the wall behind her.
"I really need that bath," she said, trying not to get pulled back into the vortex of his cupid's bow lips. His face hung just a whisper away from hers, his breathing coming fast and heavy. She rolled her eyes closed as the heat between her legs throbbed, rolling involuntarily against his solid bulge.
"Right," he breathed. "Yes, Mahanon usually calls a meeting in the War room about an hour or so after he returns, and he'll want you there for this one. So there's not much time."
"Will you be joining me?"
"I can walk you over there and stay for a few minutes. But I have a few things to gather before the meeting, so I'll have to meet you in the War room with everyone else," he said. He pulled away, leaving her body cold and quivering in the aftermath of his contact, and ran to his desk, pulling something small out of the top drawer.
"A key to your new quarters, my lady," he said as he took her hand again, placing the ancient looking metal piece in her palm. Avery looked down at it, barely able to comprehend what it meant. Maker, none of this felt real at all. And to think such a short time ago everything had been so drastically different.
She was still smiling as they made their way down the battlements to the tower that had been her quarters for all of three nights. It was larger than she remembered it, with her half full bottle of whiskey still sitting on her table and a stack of books at the bedside. The trunk in which she'd placed her clothing was gone, presumably the item that had been moved. But in the center of the room was the small copper tub, still steaming with freshly warmed water.
"Another reason to keep this tower," he said as he nodded toward the tub, "the runners would hate us if we tried to make them climb the ladder carrying buckets of water. Though I suppose there's always the office, as long as the doors are locked and I'm not working," he said. "Not that I could get anything done with you bathing in front of me anyway."
Anxious to slough off the grime of so many days of mountain travel, Avery began shrugging off the pieces of her leathers without hesitation. She'd lost track of how long it had been already since her return, with Cullen's hypnotic eyes and heady kisses seeming to warp her perception of time. Butterflies took flight in her stomach as those very eyes followed the unveiling of her skin, feasting darkly on the exposed sections of flesh as piece after piece of leather and fabric fell away. She too couldn't help but eye him as she went, particularly the bulge in his pants, growing increasingly prominent and defined. It only took moments before she was completely naked, feeling the nerves that had filled her as he'd cornered her in his office finally begin to calm. There was no mistaking the burning lust in his gaze, in the sharp outline of his rigid cock as it strained against his leather breeches. The visible effect she had on him was thrilling, and her memory flashed with so many nights in Kirkwall, when he'd practically come just from watching her.
She reminded herself that there wasn't time for the things she was envisioning doing to him in that moment, that she needed to bathe, and he needed to leave to go do Commander things, and then there was a meeting. She swayed on her feet slightly, feeling as though as the blood had completely drained out of her head. What she wanted to do was go rip his breeches off, get on her knees and swallow his cock whole. But instead she turned, her legs wobbly with a raging lust, and climbed gingerly into the tub, moaning as the hot water climbed up her calves and pulled the thick layer of frost out of her bones. To the Void with those damned Frostbacks. If she never left Skyhold again that would be just fine.
Cullen dropped to a kneel beside the tub and watched her with a beatific expression, his face brightened by a healthy flush of pink to his cheeks and lips. She would work those dark shadows out of his eyes completely over time, she vowed. With better sleep, with someone to help him through the headaches and the nightmares, Anon would have no reason to push lyrium onto him again. Certainly not if she'd had anything to say about it.
He pulled off a glove and reached a hand out to caress the apple of her cheek, and she leaned into his touch. Under the adoring warmth of his amber gaze she felt whole again, felt safe and full to bursting with a precious, renewed hope. She kissed his palm and nuzzled into his hand, sighing contentedly for the hundredth time.
"I love you," she told him. "I hope that you've never doubted that. I've never loved anything in my life the way that I love you, Cullen."
The smile that lit up his face struck an unexpected chord of sadness in her. She watched in surprise as his eyelids reddened a little and his lip quivered. He furrowed his brows and blinked hard.
"Me too," he answered softly, and he leaned forward to press a kiss into her temple. "Me too."
He rose quickly and made for the door, stopping to cast her a shaky, but reassuring smile. "I'll see you in the meeting," he said quietly, "once it's over, I'm all yours. I've given word to the men that we're not to be disturbed for the rest of the night."
She entered the War room via a massive wooden door at the end of a partially crumbled corridor, and smiled a sheepish greeting as she realized she was the last one to join them. Cullen stood with a proud grace that normally would have marked him as a noble, though his open disdain for nobility quickly put that notion to rest if one were ever to mention the resemblance. Beside him hovered Josephine and Leliana, chatting quietly on one side of the expansive, ornately carved table, while Cassandra and Anon took the side closest to the door. Avery felt Cullen's gaze following her as they all exchanged greetings and small talk, before Anon finally spoke up authoritatively, officially calling the meeting to order.
Her eyes were drawn repeatedly to Cullen, admiring how the red and black of his attire seemed to enhance the flecks of gold in his eyes and make his skin appear creamy and robust. The red drapes of fabric softened the lines and rivets of the rigid looking chestplate, drawing the eye to its pleasing combination of textures. And crowned of course by that strong, stubbled jaw and beautiful profile, making it no surprise that the Commander was the object of so much admiration from other women in Skyhold. Avery felt a swell of pride to be the woman he chose, the gleeful recipient of his long held devotion and adoration.
His gaze kept flicking over to meet hers, growing warm as he eyed her in return, now clean and freshly attired since the bath. She'd run a comb through her hair and let it lay loose over her shoulders, and dressed in one of the few mage robes she still retained. It was a simple, light blue garment and nothing at all like the red one he'd admired, but it was soft, well fitted and comfortable. She'd be doing no fighting in Skyhold anyway, so there was no need to wear her leathers around. It might even be prudent to invest in more plainclothes, at least whenever the time came that she wouldn't be pulled with no notice to travel and fight with Anon and his crew.
The giddy grin she'd worn earlier was trying to make a resurgence and she pressed it down, reminding herself that she really ought to be paying attention to whatever it was that Anon was saying. She heard the words they were all speaking to each other, familiar names repeatedly uttered such as "Corypheus" and "Grey Wardens" and "Stroud" and "Western Approach" but the actual story those words fit within eluded her. Just when she thought she had a thread of it, Cullen would shift on his feet or make some other slight movement that immediately drew her eye. There was nothing much she could add to everything Stroud had told Anon anyway, and she just couldn't keep her attention from wandering down to the handsome man at the far end of the table. The man that she couldn't wait to bed at the first possible opportunity.
She eyed the table before them, noting the considerable amount of space on the table top, and wondered if they might ever be able to sneak into the War room sometime when it wasn't in use. She couldn't help but imagine the scene as she admired the tantalizingly striking vision of him. She would strip him of every piece of that beautiful armor and lay him out over the table, maybe even secure him to it somehow, so that he couldn't interrupt her as she feasted upon his body. She'd want to take her time, splaying him open and letting her tongue and fingers explore every hill and crevice of him, until he begged her to finish him off. There was probably more than electricity that she could use on him now. Maybe a bead of ice here, a spark of heat there. She could just imagine the glorious sounds of his voice echoing through the highest chambers of the room as he cried to the heavens. And with the buffer of that long corridor, no one would hear it. Except maybe poor Ruffles.
The trick would be to make sure all the big iron figures scattered throughout the table were put back in their original places afterward.
Cullen's lip had also begun to curl slightly as he noticed her own attempt at suppressing a grin and finally she had to look away, for fear of outright laughing for joy. Surely that would be the most inappropriate thing she could possibly do in a place called the War room, especially during a discussion of such grave importance. The others were securing their very future, figuring out how to save the world, how to deal with the threat facing the Grey Wardens, heroes that all of Thedas owed their very lives to. And here she could only concentrate on ogling her lover.
Right: Corypheus controlling Grey Wardens, demon army, Breach, end of the world, et cetera. Pay attention Avery. She cleared her throat and straightened her back, finally drawing her eyes over to Anon and the rest of the party.
To her horror they were all staring at her. She shifted her weight on her feet, waiting for a moment in case this was just a pause in whatever they had been talking about. But the second stretched into eternity and still no one spoke. Anon looked like he was on the verge of laughing, his dark eyes knowingly flicking back and forth between her and Cullen.
"Um," she swallowed and cleared her throat again. "I'm sorry, what?"
"Would you mind writing that letter to Stroud?" Cassandra repeated.
"A letter. Of course," Avery answered. "Um, do you want that… right away? Like, now?"
Anon finally gave in and laughed at her. Avery clamped her mouth shut, feeling her cheeks grow hot as the other advisors exchanged amused glances.
"Should we put a bag over his head?" Leliana asked teasingly as she nodded to Cullen. "Maybe that would help?"
"I beg your pardon," Cullen said with a scowl.
"Oh you're no better Commander," Leliana said, "I'd offer to put one over her head too but she is a guest here, and that would be rude. Don't you agree Ambassador?"
"Very rude indeed," confirmed Josephine. "It will have to be you Commander."
"She is to be more than just a guest here," Cullen informed them. Leliana raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. "And you will not be putting a bag anywhere on either of us."
Finally the laughter bubbled up out of control and Avery found herself giggling gleefully, which only seemed to feed Anon's laughter. Josie and Leliana just watched with quiet eyes, shaking their heads and clearly trying to suppress their own amusement. Avery glanced quickly at Cullen to see him flushed pink and struggling to maintain his scowl.
"This is highly inappropriate," added Cassandra with audible disapproval.
Avery cleared her throat yet again, forcing away the laughter and giving a meek nod to Cassandra. She was right of course, it was completely inappropriate. The things they were supposed to be discussing were no laughing matter at all. But there was a sparkle in Cassandra's eye that hinted that she understood a little more than she let on.
"Yes, I will send a letter to Stroud. Of course," Avery said, stifling her giggle and mustering up her most business-like tone. "Whatever you need."
"That way he does not rush to the Western Approach since we won't be trekking out there right away," continued Cassandra. "Once we return from dealing with the threat to Empress Celene we'll let him know when to expect us."
Anon finally calmed himself and flashed her a reassuring grin, "Thanks Champion. You don't need to stay for the rest of the meeting. I'll catch you up on what you missed later on. Commander Pink Cheeks won't be much longer, either."
Avery nodded, casting a parting glance at Cullen, who was doubling down on his scowl and rubbing the back of his neck. She caught his eye for a brief second, and then quietly exited the room.
He'd said he'd asked them not to be disturbed, she reminded herself as she wandered around his office. She'd let herself in with the key, climbed the ladder into the loft and confirmed that her trunk and the important items from her pack were sitting handily next to his, in the part of the room not exposed by the broken ceiling. She'd thrown herself down on the bed, which was much larger than the one in her quarters, — no, her former quarters — and more nicely outfitted as well. The sheets were considerably softer, well worn and silky and far from the crisp, freshly starched ones that she'd had on her bed. She held his pillow to her face and breathed in, the scent of sandalwood and musky man filling her senses like a drug, and she sighed ecstatically. How long had he lived here now? How many nights had she slept, or tried to, in this very spot while she'd wandered around Thedas, empty and closed off to the world?
It didn't matter. She'd said that to herself before, hammered it in to her own head on the day she first arrived in Skyhold in fact, but now it was really true. She'd be lying if she claimed she was completely without trauma or troubling thoughts. She still had the memories of the Gallows after all, bodies swaying in their nooses, of the deaths of innocents in the streets. Demons and abominations and blood mage sacrifices. She still carried the secret of her part in the explosion of the Chantry too, a secret that really only weighed on her in the moments she chose not to factor in Anders' lies and manipulation. Whatever Cole had done had not healed everything wrong in her heart. But things were still so very different now, and whatever pain she'd carried around for the past four years seemed muted and distant. Could it possibly be true that she was getting exactly what she'd prayed for back in Kirkwall? A future with Cullen, a future that he wanted just as badly as she did?
His office was nice. The cold stone of the walls turned pleasantly dusky once the candles and lanterns were lit, and the cushy red rug in the middle of the room made the room feel cozy and warm. The windows that looked down into the terrifying valley were long and protectively thin, letting in the golden light of sunset and revealing only a sliver of towering mountainside. It was a comfortable space, appointed with just enough not to be distracting for a man who needs to work, but a few touches here and there that made the place feel homey.
She was anxious for Cullen's arrival, jittering nervously as she read the titles of the spines of his books, books about strategy, fighting styles and the weaponry used by different types of warriors throughout Thedas. It was extra appealing to see that he was not only a fighter, but also a reader, a man who studied and sought higher learning. She could tell by the way he composed his letters, and how easily he seemed to produce them, that the education he received through the Chantry was of the highest grade. And of course he would strive to be as good as possible at his job, especially now that he was out from under the Chantry's oppressive control and free to be the leader that he wanted to be. So much depended on his ability to command his troops effectively, and judging by the success of the Inquisition so far, he'd excelled at that just as he had within the Order.
She'd love to just watch him work. Sitting at his desk, taking messages and making important decisions. Maybe one of these days she could slip under his desk while he worked, and fulfill that fantasy that she'd had ever since Kirkwall.
A thrill traveled through her body as she thought again about that sharp bulge in his those tight leather breeches, and about taking him on the War table and making him scream. So many things she wanted to do now, now that their time and access to each other was nearly unlimited. Her legs trembled with anticipation, feeling the pulsing center of her sex growing slick with increasing desire. Ever since she'd read the letter about how he'd woken up thinking about her mouth on his cock, she'd been able to think of little else herself, and she fully intended to get a taste of him whenever he finally arrived.
As she stepped lightly throughout the office she made her way from door to door, confirming that each one was locked to ensure their privacy, assuming that he had his own key to let himself in. And she figured she might as well be ready for him, as there was no question what was going to occur as soon as he arrived. She reached behind her to unbutton the top of her robe, loosening it enough that it could be dropped down her body. Since her smalls would likely just be ripped off if she left them on, she discarded them as well, kicking them toward the robe that was left at the base of the ladder.
It was exhilarating to be walking around naked in a new, unfamiliar space. It felt a little daring, a little naughty. This was supposed to be a place for making plans and conducting business, usually full of soldiers at attention, taking the orders to fight and defend. But her mind was quickly flooded with many other things that could happen on a regular basis in the room, and she smiled to herself as she grabbed a book about daggers off his shelf and settled down into the chair behind his desk to keep herself occupied until he showed.
His face when he finally entered the office was worth the wait, his eyes turning wide as he locked the door behind him then prowled across the room toward her. With the pauldron casting a wide shadow as he approached, she felt more than ever like prey under the gaze of an animal preparing to pounce and devour. When his hands flew up to begin removing his own pieces of armor she rose, making her way over to quickly grab his arms.
"No wait," she said, "keep it on for now. I like it."
He dropped his hands in acquiescence and let his eyes roam down her, growing glassy and black. She could practically feel his gaze as it stopped to linger over her breasts, taking in her bare thighs and the dark patch of curls that peppered the throbbing heat at the apex of her legs.
"Maker's breath," he breathed, his voice raspy and pained as a flush climbed up his neck.
"Sorry, I decided to go ahead and get comfortable in my new home," she explained with a little shrug.
"I see," he said, swallowing hard. "Well by all means. Though you are setting a dangerous precedent. Now I will forever be disappointed anytime I enter my office and you're not sitting naked behind my desk."
"Well I shall endeavor to disappoint you as little as possible, Commander."
His lip curled into that half smile of his and he took a deep, steadying breath.
"I wish I could have moved you in here much sooner."
The one item she helped him remove were his gloves, wanting to feel the hands that touched her, and the hands themselves to feel the flesh they explored. He lowered his head as she worked, tilting his mouth toward hers, honing in on a breathy kiss while she dropped one glove onto the floor, and then the other. Their lips brushed together softly, parting and bumping, breathing from each other's air as she advanced on him, pushing the towering mass of him with her body and directing him toward the chair of his desk. His hands cupped her breasts, fully possessing the fleshy mounds with his broad palms, rolling his fingers over her nipples until her breath hitched in her throat, then scorching up the wall of her chest to her neck, hungrily pulling her mouth into his while she worked patiently at the ties of his breeches. After a deep, searing kiss he pulled his lips away and dragged them lightly down the length of her neck starting under her ear, his breath coming hot on her skin, the tip of his tongue tracing its way to her collar bone before nipping over her shoulders. She could only stand frozen into place as his mouth worked on her, sending shivers rippling down her skin, hardening her nipples into little points as that bud of nerves between her legs throbbed insistently with the need to be touched.
Finally she pushed him down into his desk chair, the thick rod of his cock breaking free from his breeches and protruding tantalizingly from the leather flaps. In a swift move he was plunged fully into her mouth, the broad cockhead hitting the back of her throat as she lowered her body between his legs. His gasp sounded almost like a sob, and strong fingers immediately wound in her hair as she raked up his leather clad thighs. She looked up at him and swirled her tongue around the ridge of his cockhead, suckling and gulping, relaxing her throat in stages so she could manage as much of his length as possible.
Hooded eyes watched her, panting jagged breaths through open lips, and she took him in again and again, stopping when he was breaching the limits of her throat so she could breathe in the salty, musky scent nestled within the golden curls at the base. Maker, it smelled like pure man, lusty and carnal and drenched in the promise of sex. It only made her hungrier for him, made her more determined to feel him buck beneath her as she teased his cock to the heights of pleasure.
"Fuck," he whispered, "Avery… Maker…. Fuck." His hips began to gyrate in time with the plunging of her head, his fingers tightening in her hair until the tension bit at her scalp. Somehow the little tinges of pain traveled directly to that aching in her core, stoking the fire that burned there and called out to be plundered.
His enraptured, blissful face was a thing of beauty, enhanced to unnatural extremes by the lush mane of his pauldron, by the increasing moans of desperation escaping his lips as his head rolled against the back of the chair. She wanted to get onto the desk and lay on her back, taking him in as deeply as she could and letting him control the pace the way she had at the Inn, but there was something irresistible about seeing him occupying his spot behind his desk, ruling the room like a King on his throne, fully dressed in his gallant suit of armor while she was on her knees servicing him. It satisfied that little piece of her that wanted to be overpowered, wanted to be made small and simple, to exist solely for his pleasure. And the sight of him there made her moan as she devoured him, fitting her tongue into every groove, sliding along every vein, pushing flat and wide along the breadth of him while she sucked, simultaneously working her hand along the base of his cock.
"Oh Maker, Fucking Fuck…" he gasped as the rocking of his hips turned to full on bucking, lifting off the seat of his chair as one hand held her hair and one hand scraped across her shoulders.
In another swift move, she'd pulled away from him completely and stood, leaving him panting and coiled in his seat, his pink cock glistening, looking on the verge of bursting. Her intent was to climb on the desk, but before she could do anything she was jerked forcefully toward him and his tongue was penetrating her slit while one of his hands slid between her thighs to spread her legs open for him.
He groaned as he lapped at her, one hand bruising into the flesh of her thigh while the other hand dug fingers into the cheek of her ass. She yelped as finally her buzzing clitoris received the stimulation it'd been screaming for, and he pressed his face deeply into her, scraping her sensitive inner flesh with the stubble on his cheek and jaw. His tongue skillfully lashed against all the right places, and she grabbed his hair and bucked toward his face, groaning and keening with the irresistible sweetness of the rapidly building ecstasy.
"Let me get on the desk," she panted, feeling her focus pulled more and more deeply inward, responding to the song of her body. He groaned with disappointment as he let her go, but it was only seconds before she was on her back with her head hanging off the edge, guiding his cock back into her mouth, able now to take incrementally more of him in. His hands searched her body, and then they disappeared, occupying themselves elsewhere as she guided his hips forward and back, encouraging him to take control.
A soft breeze stirred her hair, followed by a whump as his pauldron his the floor. And then the clatter of metal banging together, and a pause as hands pushed the leather breeches further down his legs. One hand snaked around her head again, threading through her hair and gripping tightly at the back of her head as he pumped long strokes in and out of her mouth. She could hear him breathing and hissing with each stroke, his exhales turning into wanton, desperate growling. A heavy hand fell on her breast and pinched at her nipples, frozen there momentarily when it caused her to moan in response
"Maker!" he hissed as she moaned, and she remembered the reaction she'd gotten last time as she hummed around his cock. She happily continued vocalizing, feeling his hips tense and his thrusts quicken as she hummed and sucked and tongued him. She fell into a blissful delirium, her body and mouth surrendered completely to the hulking man pounding toward ecstasy, and barely even noticed as her own hand wandered toward her aching mound, pressing at the thrumming center of nerves within her soaked nest of curls.
But Cullen apparently didn't approve, as the hand gripping her hair and steadying her head released, and she was shocked out of her reverie by a hot, solid torso laying itself upon hers, just as hands slid under her back to her ass, lifting her hips enough to give his mouth access again. She wrapped her arms around his waist and groaned hard against the pounding of his cock and the exquisite torture of his tongue flicking against her clitoris, all the while his own sweetly anguished whimpers buzzed against her slit. The tempest of sensations mixed with the heady musk of sex, driving her hard and fast toward the precipice of oblivion. Almost immediately she could feel the extra bit of tightening in his cock that indicated he was close, and she redoubled her efforts, sucking and humming and sliding one hand around his bollocks and pressing languorously into the tight bud of his rear.
"Ungh Fuck, Avery, Fuck!" he cried out, his head pulling away to rest on her hip while his hands squeezed hard at whatever flesh happened to be closest, finding her thighs and the cleft of her ass. His cock twitched and remained buried deep inside her mouth as it began pulsing streams of hot, tangy liquid into her throat. She kept suckling, milking every drop of seed from his twitching member as his hips tightened and released, rolling and bucking in slower and slower waves. When finally he fell limp, she moved to release him completely before the emptied appendage grew overly sensitive.
The room spun for a moment as she wiped her mouth and adjusted back to to a stable, still existence. Her own sex still throbbed insistently, radiating need through her thighs and up to her breasts, but she knew her time would come. She and Cullen still had all night.
Cullen dropped to his knees beside the desk and rested his head on her shoulder, his breaths heaving, and she could feel the quivering in his hands as he threaded through her hair again, cupping her head and massaging her scalp.
"Are you okay?" he panted into her ear. She smiled at the earnest concern in the question, as though she hadn't been the one to devise and urge him into that whole encounter.
"I am… fantastic…" she answered honestly. She'd been spending her nights dreaming about taking him in her mouth, and that desire had been fully, thoroughly satisfied.
He laughed quietly between heavy breaths, and turned to cover her face with kisses, peppering them into her hair, her temples, her brow.
"You are remarkable," he sighed into her ear. She blinked away the fog of bliss and pulled away from him to roll onto her belly. The few items he kept on his desk were now scattered across the floor, and it occurred to her that she hadn't even heard them fall. She climbed off the desk, legs still shaky as she took Cullen's hand and helped him stand. His leather breeches were gathered over the tops of his boots, and he paused a moment, apparently considering whether to take them all off, but instead he just pulled them up.
"I'll take them off up there," he said, pointing to the ladder. "We might as well go somewhere that you can lay down more comfortably, because I don't plan on letting you up for a very long time."
She flashed him a wicked grin as she admired the carved muscle of his bare torso, his warrior's physique never failing to impress no matter how many times she's seen it. But there were still those little differences that reminded her just how long it had been since she'd been able to admire him on a regular basis. If even Kirkwall could have been considered regular. Again she studied the new scars and patches of magically healed flesh that peppered the round bulk of his shoulders and chest. She felt the pull toward him as she always did when they were close, and before she knew what her body was doing it had carried her to him, tucking herself against the firm swells of that golden skin and nuzzling into the crook of his neck. He held her tightly, enveloping her in his solid arms and she immediately felt the pounding of his heart against his chest, reverberating powerfully through his body and into hers. It was as slow and steady as she remembered it, pounding away the seconds in his life with a clockwork precision. She sighed as she collapsed against him, letting him bear the weight of her for a moment as she listened to the familiar, beloved heartbeat of the man she loved. Her own chest swelled with adulation, filling up with the experience of him until there didn't seem to be room inside her for anything else.
"My love," she sighed, not even sure what she intended to come after that. "This… this right here is exactly where I belong."
He pressed a kiss into her hair and exhaled a shaky breath, his arms squeezing more tightly. She slid an arm to wrap around his waist and pulled him closer with all the strength she could muster. It didn't seem she would ever get him close enough.
"Yes it is," he agreed quietly.