Evelyn left the tavern alone, feeling warm and contented. Varric had left a while ago, grumbling about issues with the Merchant's Guild, and Dorian and Iron Bull were remaining to drink together. She had decided to call it a night and try to get some sleep. The previous restless night she'd had as she wondered if Cullen felt the same way felt like a lifetime ago. Still, she had found herself stifling yawns as she listened to Dorian and Bull playfully argue about the Imperium and the Qun.

The courtyard was chilly, but after the crowded tavern it felt refreshing and she took a moment to look above her and gaze at the sky. Her renewed daydreams were interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind her. She turned, hopeful, and found the one she'd been thinking about standing only a few paces away by the stairs to the battlements.

"Evelyn, what are you doing out so late?" he asked, and took a few hesitant steps toward her.

"I was at the tavern with Dorian," she smiled, looking up into his face. She noticed him frowning and she mirrored it. "Are you all right, Cullen?"

"I -" he hesitated, and she saw the way he clenched his jaw, the way he flexed his hand.

"Are you in pain again?" she asked. He closed his eyes and nodded, an odd look like shame on his face.

"I was trying to take a walk, I thought it might help," he muttered. He still looked away from her, and she wondered if he was embarrassed she had caught him in pain again.

"I'm glad I'm still up, then," she reached and took his hand, leading him back to the stairs behind him. He walked behind her slowly, like he was resigned to what was happening, but she gently squeezed his hand to reassure him. She sat him on one of the steps and took a seat on a step behind him so she could more easily match his height as they faced each other. She rubbed her fingers together as she always did, focusing inward and imagining snow and ice coming to her fingertips. "May I?" she asked, still wanting to let him know he could control how this went.

He gave a jerky nod, his eyes still closed, his brow furrowed deeply in his pain. She softly reached up and touched his temples, focusing on channeling the minor ice spell she held at her fingers onto his skin. She massaged gently, pressing more firmly when she saw the tension in his brows begin to release. He let his breath out slowly, and she gave a small smile. "I'm going to add my energy now," she told him, and again he gave a brief nod.

She closed her eyes for a moment, focusing closely on the feeling. She was concerned that the wine had dulled her senses, but found she didn't need to worry as her practiced hands acted from years of memory. She had learned to do this for Bron without meaning to, but she had practiced on herself at the Circle, still believing for years that she would go back one day to help heal him. When the First Enchanter had discovered what she could do, she had occasionally requested help with her migraines. Evelyn felt grateful now that she had kept the skill sharp as she watched Cullen's face relax and his breathing deepen.

They continued in peaceful silence. Evelyn greedily observed his face this close to hers in the moonlight, and found herself wondering if he would kiss her again. He reached over to her knees and placed his hands on them, squeezing gently. Her heart was racing and she had to work harder to focus on her task, becoming easily distracted by the memories of that afternoon. He gave a sudden deep moan that sent a shiver through her and her heart jumped into a frantic overdrive. She pulled her fingers away from him and tried to steady herself. As she had the day before, she tried to pretend she was worried she had hurt him to hide the real reason she had stopped. "Are you all right, was that too much?"

"No, Evelyn," he breathed, and his hands tightened on her knees. "Please, keep going, please – Maker's breath," he sighed as she resumed her touch. She bit her lip to try to keep herself focused. She was flushed, her cheeks burning and an unfamiliar yearning feeling began within her.

He opened his eyes finally, and his gaze wandered over her face curiously. She couldn't tell if he could see the way she was blushing, but it seemed like he might have guessed where her mind had wandered from the way the look on his face changed. He reached up and pulled her hands from his temples and slid her arms to his neck, pulling her closer as he did.

Evelyn closed her eyes, eagerly anticipating his kiss with her lips parted. Cullen's touch was soft, his lips moving slowly over her own. It was a languid kiss, as though he was half-asleep, as though he was trying to convey his deep gratitude to her with his tongue. Despite its leisurely rhythm, Evelyn found her breath coming to her in gasps, pants that he quickly stole with his mouth moving hungry and unhurried against her own. One hand was on her jaw, one splayed on her back as he pulled her closer to him. The deep yearning within her intensified and she felt herself moaning at the sensation it created in her.

Cullen stopped suddenly and pulled away from her, staring down with a look in his eyes that made her breath catch in her throat. She couldn't look away if she'd wanted to; his eyes seemed to command her to look at him. He removed the hand from her cheek and put one of his fingertips in his mouth, tugging his glove off with his teeth as he held her gaze. He set the glove in his lap before he placed his bare hand on her cheek, gently stroking her with his thumb as his eyes wandered over her face. His palm was calloused, his skin hot and rough against her cheek. She let out a shaky sigh as she closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his thumb running over her lips.

"You tingle," he murmured, and the deeper, huskier tone of his voice sent another shiver racing down her spine. "Everywhere I touch you, you make my skin tingle. I felt your lips on me all day."

She let out a soft whimper at the feeling that coursed through her when she heard him say those words, and he responded by pressing his lips against hers. He slid his hand to cup her face and then slipped it into her hair, twisting his bare fingers into its silky strands. This kiss was more intense than the last, and she felt herself struggling a bit to keep up with the sudden onslaught of his passion. She felt warm, her breasts feeling too tight and sensitive against her smallclothes, her nerves in overdrive as she felt a throbbing begin between her legs. She slipped her hand into the hair on the back of his head, running her fingers through the soft waves and curls as she moaned against his eager lips.

And then he was pulling away again, winded as if he were trying to catch his breath after running. She looked up at him, sad to see him trying to calm himself. She hadn't wanted the kiss to ever end, and he had stopped too soon, just as he had that afternoon. He stared into her eyes for a moment before he lowered his lips to her forehead and pressed a tender, intimate kiss against her skin. "Thank you," he murmured against her hair. She wondered if he was thanking her for her help or the kiss.