"Cullen?"
He nuzzles the side of my head. "Hm?"
"C-could you..." I take a deep breath. "Maker, t-this is ridiculous."
"Could I...?" Cullen asks. "If you want to leave, we can-"
"No."
And then I'm kissing him, hands wrapping into his hair, dragging him down, closer. The water is unpleasant, but inconsequential compared to this man holding me, keeping me upright and safe. Cullen gasps, then groans, taking two strides without hesitation until I'm pressed against the supports of the docks. It seems unreasonable how quickly we shift towards this fire, this flame that burns unspoken between us, drawn towards the heat like moths to a flame. And yet we go willingly, tempted by the promise of a searing, glowing more
I gasp when wood digs into my back, and Cullen takes the opportunity to part my lips further, slanting his mouth over mine in a manner that demands allowance, his tongue seeking, breath-takingly conquering. My legs lock around his waist, refusing to be dominated and yet loving the thrill, the push of his bare chest as each muscle ripples, holding me up and pressing. Pressing and pulling because we can't get enough of this abandon, this heat coursing between us. I tug, tightening my fingers in Cullen's hair, melting at the way he sighs into our kiss. The power that he holds simmers just below, straining, brushing against the tightness in my chest, the abrasion liquid and molten.
A moan - barely more than a breath - falls against his ear when his hands slip under my tunic, spanning over my back. Skin-to-skin for the first time, and a slow curl of heat flicks in what little space lingers between our hips. Maker damnit, the palpable want lingering there is undeniable; ridiculous, bordering on fictional. I'm left unsure whether to damn or bless Cullen's self-control, for if he notices the distance he doesn't acknowledge it, instead pressing his lips to my neck, laving kisses under my jaw, questing.
"Hollyn..." Cullen growls, the timbre soft, and low, and dark. Sweet Maker this man could be reporting on nug variants and even the most uptight Orlesian noble would grow slick, so long as he was speaking in that voice.
My teethe capture his earlobe, nibbling through my words. "Cullen, Ara haurasha. Ara isalan ma. Please..."
Another growl, and suddenly our hips are connected, slotting together like missing pieces to a puzzle, having finally found their place after so many years of absence. I keen, gasping for breath against the sudden feeling of Cullen: the hard planes of his chest, the heavier press of his length dragging against my core. The flame between us flares, and sweet Andraste, it is healing.
I rock against him, barely feeling the water as it splashes between us, around our bodies. We need this; need this healing, baptising fire as it burns, searing away the wounds, the fears, allowing responsibility to be set aside, control laxed rather than broken.
My hands trail lower, skipping over his chest, committing each scar to memory until my fingertips settle into the crook of his waistband. The noise he makes is intoxicating, even as one hand presses my hips against the dock, halting their rocking rhythm. The other gathers my hands, raising them from the water to kiss the backs.
Each breath we share is heavy, clouding the air around us. Cullen rests his head along my neck, lips moving against the heated skin as he speaks.
"We're in a lake." He informs me.
"Believe me, this is not how I thought this day would play out either."
"Right..." Cullen doesn't move. "Still, we're in a lake."
I giggle. "Your childhood lake, no less."
At that, Cullen groans, extracting himself and hoisting me onto the dock. I laugh, laying there until my view of the stars is blocked by a smouldering pair of golden eyes. Cullen keeps himself propped above me, water dripping where our bodies don't touch.
"You deserve better than a lake."
"So do you."
Cullen considers this, then smirks. "Tell me," He whispers, and I shiver at the timbre he adopts. Nevermind Orlesian nobles growing slick from that voice; I could be wet enough to rival six. "When will you next be at Skyhold?"
"Hm..." I stretch, arching my back to tease him, breasts evident through the soaking fabric of my tunic. Cullen merely rises further until I return to my normal state, eyes never leaving mine. "Longer than I care to think. Why?"
"Because I want..." Cullen sighs, his breath fanning along my collarbone. "That is, if you..."
I brush a few curling locks from his forehead and kiss the damp skin found there. "I think the phrase you're looking for is 'Ar isalan ma'."
"You said that earlier. What does it mean?"
I laugh, blushing at the words. If the Keeper could see me now... Doubting he will ever take my advice, I grin at Cullen. "Ask Solas."
Cullen shakes his head, kissing my neck and then rolling off. "Thank-you, by the way."
"For what?" I ask, sitting up.
"For trusting me."
"Oh..." My blush flares anew. "Does that mean we're even now?"
"We always were, dear." Sliding an arm around my shoulder, Cullen shakes his head. "We always were."
A/N: As promised, M version of the lake scene, as a gift to that one lovely Guest who asked for it. Never really written anything like this, so please tell me what you think.
Also, I won't say what the Elvhen translations are. It will be revealed later, in an assuredly humorous manner, but if you're impatient, go snoop around The Elvhen Project on tumblr. That blog may or may not be the reason I'm fluent in Elvhen.
Thank-you for reading!
