Author's Note: This chapter is moderately not safe for work.

Cullen was exhausted. It took some convincing on Tomas's part, but finally the young templar managed to convince him to go sleep, promising he would keep a watchful eye over the Warden-Commander until he returned. Tomas was a good man, his gaze was alert and watchful as he settled down beside Toriana's sleeping form; he was one of the two of his men he fully trusted to watch over her while he slept.

It wasn't exactly distrust he had for his men, he simply knew some of them didn't take kindly to mages and would not appreciate the task of watching over one. And so, in order to avoid someone not doing their job to the fullest extent, or someone harboring resentment towards the Commander of the Grey, he only let Tomas and one other – a templar whose illegitimate son was a mage in the Gallows – guard her while he got his little patches of rest.

Settling onto his bedroll, however, Cullen knew sleep was a ways away. His mind was full of thoughts of her, of what had happened. To say he had been shocked by what had conspired would be an understatement.

We used to be friends, once, didn't we? I miss that.

Toriana's words had made his jaw drop, and his heart had immediately sped up. She had considered them friends, as well? To hear that, and to hear that she wanted them to be friends again, was a relief. He was tired of the fighting, too.

He felt like a young man in the Circle again, stumbling over his words as he replied to her. He couldn't help but notice the curve of her neck, the flat muscles in her stomach, the fact that her skin looked as soft and smooth as silk, but covered flesh that was taut and firm from a life he knew was harsher than his own.

She was covered by a multitude of scars, but rather than mar her beauty, it only enhanced her… deadly sex goddess-ness. The term came unbidden to his mind, and he felt a stab of aggression for the elf that had said it to her, but he knew that it fit her perfectly. He had never met another woman in his life that had that fierce and deadly look so well blended with her beauty and compassion. She was a goddess.

Cullen closed his eyes and his thoughts drifted towards the end of their conversation. Her concern had surprised him, and he had instantly replied with a response that was vague and avoidant. She hadn't fallen for it, and the look she gave him as she said 'Don't lie to me' had made him feel like a child caught lying. Was he that transparent? Or was she just that observant?

He had almost confessed the truth about the dreams, that they had started since she came to Kirkwall, but in his mind that sounded too accusing, too… too much like admitting she had affected him so strongly. Even with their renewed friendship of sorts, he wasn't ready to admit to her just how much she had affected him. And so he changed his answer, blamed the dreams on the darkspawn.

Cullen shifted to find a more comfortable position on his bedroll. They had been down in the Deep Roads for almost four days now, the other Wardens had been gone for three days. Once they returned with the women, Toriana would need time to recover before she would be able to venture back into the Deep Roads to kill the remaining darkspawn.

Perhaps… Just maybe he would join her for a drink at the tavern she was staying in, maybe even a meal. They could talk, mend their broken friendship, and perhaps even get closer…

No. Cullen had to drag his thoughts away from that temptation. They could never be together, in any way. It would be… a disaster. And she likely did not think of him in the same way he thought of her, the way he had thought of her since he met her all those years ago in the tower. His attraction to her was a distraction, and a dangerous one. But he could not stop himself thinking of her, of her smile, of how her lips had felt the day she had kissed him…

He knew nothing would ever come of it, she would never have the same thoughts of him, but he also knew he would never be able to simply stifle the infatuation; it hadn't worked years ago, and it wouldn't work now. He would simply have to suffer through his thoughts, his urges, until she left Kirkwall – likely to never return.

At least they would be friends, now; that comforted him. He could take what small pleasure he could from the smiles she sent his way, now, the laughter that filled the air as they talked. It would have to be enough for him.

In the dark, eerie silence of the Deep Roads, he closed his eyes and sleep finally came to him.

"Cullen."

His eyes opened and she was leaning over him, her dark hair falling to frame her face. Those big brown eyes looked down at him with anxiety and warmth and something more… carnal that made him feel suddenly hot, his throat suddenly dry. Her hand was on his cheek, tracing the shape of his face with light fingers.

"I've tried so hard to stop myself," she whispered, nervously licking her lips so they shone pink. "But… I just can't, anymore." She shifted where she was kneeling beside him and put her other hand on his chest. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you."

The confession made Cullen's breath hitch in his chest as he stared up at her, unable to speak.

"Ever since that night, when we kissed… You've been on my mind." Her voice was soft, but there was a desire in her tone, in the way her fingers slowly curled on his chest until she was grasping at the front of his shirt. "I know it's wrong, I know what we are and that the world disapproves of this, but… I can't help that I want you. Now, more than anything."

Cullen's pulse raced and he found it hard to breathe, looking up into those chocolate-brown eyes. Her hair tickled his chin, and now the hand she had placed on his cheek moved up to run through his hair. As her fingernails grazed his scalp in a tantalizing caress, he couldn't restrain himself any longer.

He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to him with such a force that their teeth clicked together as he moved to kiss her. His bottom lip split in the collision, and though a small trickle of blood trailed down his chin she merely pulled away ever so slightly and licked it off before she took his lip into her mouth and sucked the sting away.

The groan that broke from his lips made her press herself harder onto him, shifting her body so she was laying on top of him. Their kiss was long and deep, full of a burning need as they grasped at each other, unable to get close enough, to press against each other hard enough. Her hands were under his shirt, her nails raking down his chest with a fervor that made him breathe even more heavily as he possessed her mouth with his.

She was only wearing pants, the wrap around her breasts, and the bandages, but even so her body was hot, the air around her sizzling with warmth. His hands slipped underneath the waistband of her pants and grasped at her bottom, pulling her up so she was pressed against his hardness. She gasped against his mouth, then let out a moan that sent shivers down his spine as he ground his hips against hers.

Then her hand was around him, grasping with a firmness that made his hips jerk uncontrollably. He wanted her, more than he had ever wanted her before. He wanted to claim her as his, to hear her moan his name and to look into her eyes as he took her. With a swiftness that startled even him, he flipped them so he was on top of her, pressing down against her willing body with a burning ardor.

As his fingers slid into her pants and curled into the wetness he found there, she looked up at him with a look that made his breathing increase even more as his desire, if possible, grew. "Cullen..." she whimpered, pressing herself against him, begging him to do what he had wanted to do for so long...

"Cullen…"

"Cullen!"

With a start, Cullen awoke, hurtling into a sitting position in the hopes that it – coupled with his thick armor skirt – would hide the evidence of his arousal. Toriana's hand was on his armored shoulder and her eyes were wide with a wild desperation as she panted on her knees by his side.

It was a moment of sleepy confusion before the sounds of fighting registered and he tore his bewildered look away from the Warden-Commander to see his small company of templars engaged in battle with darkspawn. He cursed himself for having such a foolish dream - he hadn't one of those types of dreams in years - that kept him from waking immediately, that left him so disoriented. Just as he heard a cry of pain and saw one of his men go down with a vicious hurlock sword in his gut, he heard Toriana's voice beside him, tight with barely restrained fear.

"We're under attack!"

Cliffhangers, cliffhangers, I love you! ;) Naughty Cullen and his naughty dreams... ;9