Part II.
Chapter 6.
His belly was full of delicious Fereldan stew. Fereldan ale swam in his veins. The beautiful Ashara was tucked under his arm beside him. For this moment, all was perfect. The world was whole and at peace, at least within these walls.
She sighed happily. "You Fereldans sure know how to do it." She giggled. "I mean you all make some serious food. I'm fit to burst!"
He smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "We don't usually eat that much," he teased.
She laughed softly. "Don't judge me. It was just so good."
"That it was. And if we were to be judged for overeating this evening, I'm afraid I am the greater sinner." He patted his stomach before kissing her head again.
"My plan worked then." She sat up straighter and pulled her feet up onto the sofa. She wore intricately knitted Ander-style stockings.
"You know I worry about you not eating enough when I'm not around." She trailed a long finger up his thigh. "Maybe if you had some more tempting options."
If temptation was the issue, she was certainly helping.
He caressed her cheek and gazed down at her. "Why me?" he wondered aloud. "How am I so lucky to have your attentions, my lovely Ashara?"
She blushed at the term of endearment.
"Cullen." She took his hand. "What you did was just being you. You've been so kind to me. We've been over this before, Cull. Your strength, your dedication and loyalty. Everything about who you are and everything you've done for the Inquisition and for me. And even… Even if you made mistakes or were cruel or acted out of fear or anger in the past… Cullen, that doesn't matter. You are a good man. A kind and strong and… very handsome man."
She stretched up and kissed him firmly on the mouth.
"Now no more of that. We have the evening to ourselves. No more interruptions. So let's enjoy ourselves, shall we?"
He laughed quietly. "Okay." The familiar awkwardness of not knowing what to say began to settle in. She was too kind to think and say these things. How could he ever come to accept her version of him, the strong, kind, good man? He had accepted that she was romantically interested in him to some extent—though how far was she interested in taking this? He was inches from the precipice and would happily plunge into love with her, but what if she was only interested in something simple with no expectations of the future? Would he be able to handle that rejection? And what if this grew into something serious and they got married? Would her family ever accept him? Would they even get involved? What if her previous experience being farmed out for marriage soured her on the idea?
"Hey," she whispered, her voice pitched with concern. "Where'd you go?" She cupped his cheek and looked up at him, eyes wide.
"I… Was just thinking about you, my lady," he bluffed.
"Oh? And just how were you thinking of me, my knight?"
"I assure you, my lady, that it is all entirely pure." He smirked at her.
"Now there's a shame."
His breath caught in his throat then came out as a growl as she pulled herself into his lap, straddling his thigh. She giggled at the sound before nipping at his lower lip.
"Have I offended you, my lady? I promise you my thoughts of you are… entirely… chaste." He traced her figure through the thin fabric of her robe, carefully observing her facial expressions and the sound of her breath as she reacted to his exploring touch. "I have no intention of… seducing you, my lady." He bowed his head to whisper in her ear, bringing his mouth closer to let his breath tease along the sensitive skin of her neck.
She whimpered and inhaled a shaky breath. "Hmm… Is that so?" A battle-hardened finger trailed up his arm. "I guess that means I'll have to seduce you," she whispered huskily, setting the fine hairs on his neck on end. "With your thoughts so pure, it sounds like I might have my work cut out for me…" She shifted to straddle his lap completely and nipped his earlobe. She was perched above him, not yet resting her weight on his legs. "I hope these efforts will not… offend you, good ser knight."
His cock twitched against the fine linen of his new smallclothes. The unfamiliar sensation provided a physical reminder of her affections, adding to the effect. He pulled on deep reserves of strength, as he used to call upon lyrium, to maintain control and an air of calm.
"No, my lady," he choked out. "No, I am not offended. Perhaps… surprised."
He brought a hand to the small of her back, earning a short gasp and shiver. He had to bite back his own trembling reaction.
"Well, then…" She lowered herself to rest her weight on his lap. "That's… Good to hear." Her hands drifted to his shoulders, fingers tracing his collarbones through the thin fabric of his shirt. "But, pray tell me, ser knight… How would I successfully seduce such a chaste and honorable man?"
He needn't answer her. A hand found its way into his hair, tangling in the curls, scratching lightly at his scalp. His breath came uneven and shaky, but he held onto enough of his faculties to continue their game.
"Well… my lady…" He traced gentle circles on the small of her back, relishing in the heat radiating through her dressing gown, wondering what she wore beneath it, nearly losing his cool again at the thought. "I believe it would be… ungentlemanly of me to voice such things."
He smirked teasingly.
She narrowed her eyes, puckering her lips in a grin, then took his mouth in a deep kiss. Her lips were soft. She tasted of mead. Her tongue was curious and shifted between powerful and timid, teasing him to seek more when she softened the kiss and pulled away ever so slightly.
"Ashara…"
"Cullen…" She giggled and leaned back, arching her back.
He groaned with desire. Her dressing gown was draped low and the silken fabric clung to her body, revealing the soft shape of her breasts. He gave up fighting himself and fisted a hand in her hair and pulled her to him for a fierce kiss.
She slid down his lap, pressing herself to him. The swell of her breasts against his chest took his breath away. It had been so long since he'd had a woman in his arms. And it was her. It was better than he'd imagined in all his dreams. She was so warm and soft and strong and beautiful and she smelled summer and tasted like honey.
"My beautiful…"
She sighed.
"Ashara, you are the most incredible woman in the world. I have never known anyone like you." He looked at her in wonder, taking in every detail of her growing pleasure and need.
"Oh, Cull…" She rested her forehead against him. "You…" She didn't finish the sentence, pressing more hungry kisses to his mouth instead.
He returned each with his own growing desire. Her breath was coming faster now, crushing her breasts against him as her chest rose and fell, her nipples teased and hardening from the friction. The increasingly less subtle reminder of her arousal drove his own closer to the edge.
The hand not in his hair began to tug at the laces on his shirt, her nails scratching at his skin in her distraction. He finished the job for her and broke their kiss only long enough to pull the shirt over his head. She ran her nails down his chest, tickling and exploring the lines of disciplined muscle, sighing into their kiss as she explored.
He brought a hand to her jaw, tilting her chin up and exposing her throat to his mouth. She gasped and whimpered when he found a particularly sensitive spot just by her pulse. He memorized the place like a landmark on a map to her pleasure, reminding himself to return after he'd scouted the rest of her terrain. He had so many options before him now, so many places and ways to touch her. Which were her favorites?
She responded to his hand tangling in her hair with a moan, rocking her hips into him.
When he moved his hand from her full hip to the soft roundness of her ass, her head lolled to the side, giving him better access to that sweet spot on her neck, just below her jaw.
With his mouth latched to her pulse, he brushed his fingertips lightly along her side, earning him a desperate whine and then uncontrolled spasms that arched her back and pulled open her dressing gown.
One of her thickly-muscled thighs was exposed nearly to its apex by the flimsy garment, the ties dangling temptingly against the naked skin, a tassel resting right between her legs. Her writhing and the aggressive play of his hands were slowly uncovering more and more of her athletic body.
"Ashara, I…" He plucked at the ties. "May I?"
She bit her swollen lower lip and nodded eagerly. "Please."
He pulled slowly, keeping his eyes on hers. The anticipation there rivaled his own.
The knot untied, her dressing gown fell open, exposing her to him. The firelight cast the lines of bone and muscle in sharp relief. Dark nipples stood out against the olive skin of her high, wide-set breasts. The swirls of scarring along her lower abdomen and leg looked like marble, strengthening the statue-like impression of her powerful physique.
"Maker's breath…"
"Not so bad yourself, Cull." Her eyes, already hazy with desire, narrowed with her lusty smile. "Now… Touch me?"
He caught himself staring and recovered with a laugh at himself. He couldn't help it—she was perfect. "Of course…" He guided the silk off her shoulders and let it slither down her back to the floor. "How… how do you like to be touched?"
She let out a deep, shuddering breath before taking his right hand and raising it to her lips. She kissed the tips of his fingers before sucking one into her hot, wet mouth. His breath caught with the sensation. She was teasing him with a hint of things to come. Or he hoped she was. She winked, confirming the suspicion.
"But we'll get there later," she whispered, lowering his hand to her chest. She dragged his fingers down her breastbone, letting him feel the ridges of rib and muscle between her breasts, then along the lower line of her rib cage and across her stomach. There were sheets of hard muscle just under the layer of feminine softness of her belly. He wanted to dig his fingers into that layer of fat, marvel at the dents his fingers would make in her flesh, but she didn't linger. She wrapped his fingers around her hand and brushed the backs of his knuckles back up her torso, then along the line of a breast. Each breath brought the soft swells into contact with his fingers, teasing him with the potential of filling his palms with their fullness.
"And how do you like to be touched?" She drawled, slowly lowering his hand to rest it in his lap, close enough to feel the humidity and heat radiating from behind the thatch of coarse hair pressed to the laces of his pants.
Who? Him? How did he like to be touched? The thought didn't even occur to him.
"Later," he managed.
"Later?" She cocked her head playfully.
"Mm. Later. Right now is all about you, my lady."
He caught the sound falling from her lips as he took her in a rough kiss and rolled to his slide, planting her on the soda so that he was over her.
He turned and pushed away the low table with the remains of their dinner, clearing the floor so he could sink to his knees before her.
She watched him, eyes glazed, mouth slightly open and swollen with kisses. "Cullen?"
He ran his hands slowly up from her ankles. "Ashara, I want to… May I… taste you?"
She whimpered and bit her lip. He could feel her legs relax and fall open just a little more.
"Andraste's ass, Cullen. Yes! Oh Maker, yes!"
He fought the urge to take her with the same enthusiasm with which she had given her consent, instead trailing wet kisses from the inside of one knee up her thigh. Powerful ropes of muscle twitched under a thick layer of softness. He smiled against her velvety, warm skin, savoring each reaction. Her breath was ragged, hitching when he flicked his tongue against her flesh, accompanied by soft sounds of anticipation and pleasure.
He inhaled her musk—faint and slightly sweet beneath the bath oil that still perfumed her skin—and pulled her closer to the edge of the sofa, hooking his arms under her thighs. She bloomed for him with a shuddering sigh. He cast his eyes upward, taking in the breathtaking sight. Her head was thrown back, her curls wild, her lush mouth open. Her chest rose and fell with her erratic breath.
He nipped at tender flesh at the apex of her thigh, calling her attention to him.
"Cull… Cullen," she breathed. She was quivering in his hands.
He needed this.
"Please, Cullen," she reaffirmed her consent, her desire.
The need in her voice peaked his own excitement. He bowed his head as if in prayer, bending himself at her altar, and rolled his tongue slowly up and then down the length of her vulva.
She gasped and shuddered, her whole body tensing dramatically every time the tip of his tongue unfurled where her lips met before he dragged it back down, parting her layers. His tongue made it deeper into her layers, her wetness coating both their lips.
He grasped her buttocks and shifted her forward, opening her farther. He sucked her clitoris, swollen, pink, exposed, rolling it carefully, gently between his lips before taking more of the ruby flesh into his mouth.
"Cullen! Oh!" Her cries were pitched and desperate as he explored and teased her.
He wrapped his tongue around the hardened nub and worked her, still slowly, tenderly, but with increasing speed and pressure as her panting and moaning.
"Please—oh!—oh, Cullen!—please… please…"Her words became muffled when her thighs clamped around his head.
Her muscles grew tighter and tighter, he knew she was close.
"Cullen! Oh, Maker… Cull! Cull! Cullen, don't stop! Please! Please. Please don't stop. Cullen!"
And with that, he was on his back on cold, blood-slicked stone. The sickening sounds of flesh rending, bones cracking flooded his ears. He screwed his eyes tight and curled into a ball, trying to keep himself safe from Desire writhing over him. Everyone was dead, gone. It was only him left, and he couldn't even fight back, coward that he was. There was no hope, no chance of escape now. He must hold out against the demons. Maybe, maybe if he survived… But no…
"Cullen. Cullen, what's wrong? Cullen! Come back to me. It's okay. Please. Please come back to me."
The voice was plaintive, sweet, laden with concern, and… love?
"Cullen, you're safe. You're at Skyhold. It's me. Ashara. I'm here with you. We're in my bedroom in Skyhold. There are no demons. No one can hurt you here. You're with me. Oh, Maker, please. Please, Cullen."
He opened his eyes and through the haze saw his Ashara kneeling just out of reach, her eyes wide and filled with tears.
"Hey… There you are… My darling, it's alright. You're okay. You're safe. You're safe."
The room slowly came into view. He was on a thick wool carpet, a silk robe, scented of orange blossoms, citrus, and salt crumpled beneath him. She wasn't a cruel vision, but the real thing. His Inquisitor, his love.
"Ashara…"
She made to reach for him but stopped, apprehension in her eyes.
"It's okay. I…"
He… what? How could he explain this to her?
"Kinloch?"
His head snapped up and he stared at her for a moment. How could she tell?
"Yes…"
"Oh, Cull…" She made a sympathetic noise deep in her throat and edged closer to him. "I'm so sorry. How can I… What can I do?"
She was completely bare, crouched down on the floor beside him. The situation finally came into focus.
"Oh, Ashara, I'm so sorry. I didn't know this would happen. Are you…? I—"
She shushed him and took his hand tentatively. "Not at all, Cullen. Do not apologize to me. Just tell me how I can help you right now."
He started to shiver violently as the sudden flood of adrenaline began to seep out of his system. A twinge of lyrium-craving pinched at his temples.
She must have noticed. She pulled a blanket from the sofa. "Should we move closer to the fire? Will that help?"
He nodded wordlessly and dragged himself along the floor to follow her to the fire where she settled in the middle of a thick pelt rug. He rested his head in her lap, wrapping the blanket around himself. She stroked his hair, massaged his temples.
"Hush, my darling. It's okay now…"