Alistair
He slammed the door shut behind him and sagged against it, ignoring the raised eyebrows from his guards. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, then another, and another. It didn't help one bit. His heartbeat was clearly still trying to split his chest apart. It didn't exactly help that he could still hear Ashe giggling from the other side of the door.
I need to go start the day, I have meetings to attend, but I'll try to be quick about it, he'd said, pushing his crown up from where it had slid to the side of his unruly hair.
Oh, you'll do better than try, Ali, she'd responded. She'd proceeded to help him buttoning up the last bit of his clothing before she leaned forward as if to kiss him, but instead she had let her tongue glide along the side of his ear before she hummed into it, her hot breath making every hair on his body stand up. I'm going to be right here when you get back. And since I've been such a good girl then, waiting for you, you'll play with me, won't you? She'd kissed his earlobe. You can play anything you want, anywhere you want. Her warm tongue had snaked into his ear then, before she withdrew as quick as she'd entered, and bit his neck instead.
Fuck the meetings, he'd said.
Ah-ah-ah. She'd shaken her head at him. You go about your business, Your Majesty. And you'll do it quickly, since you're going to fuck the lights out of your hungry, little slut when you come back.
Laughing at his mouth hanging open, she'd opened the door behind him and pushed him out before retreating back into the room. He'd slammed the door shut, knowing that looking at her for one more second would break his resolve completely.
How the fuck was he supposed to concentrate now?
Cullen
He guessed that there were worse things in the world than being married to a hero. Everywhere they went together, they were greeted with admiration and respect. When they finally arrived in Amaranthine, it felt like every citizen was lining the streets to cheer and welcome their beloved arlessa home.
"Is it always like this?" he asked her, riding side by side with her through the busy streets.
"Not really. Being dead and then come back to life seems to have caused an impressive turnout," she said and he could see the hint of a smile on her face. She waved at the people and even greeted some of them by name. Cullen observed with amusement how some of the men were smacked out of their slack-jawed, dreamy staring by their annoyed wives. He could hardly blame them - Mahariel was almost unnervingly beautiful, and he couldn't help straightening up a little bit in his saddle, feeling almost proud that he was married to her. He would have been truly proud, of course, if she'd been his wife for more than practical reasons. Instead, his pride was more like a surge of primitive, male cockiness that came naturally when you brought the prettiest girl to the ball. He almost felt a little bad about it – she deserved better, she deserved something real. Instead, she was stuck with him - a brooding husband who'd spent the whole ride here sulking over another woman. He promised himself that he would try to make an effort to lighten up, to be a good friend to her. She would leave soon, he knew she had to, so he could at least try. He needed to get over his obsession with Ashe, anyway. Being a good husband to his wife would be a good start.
Not that I have any idea of how to act like one, but I can fucking try. For her.
Alistair
His knuckles were white from gripping the table in front of him. He'd given up on actually listening to what the men around the table were saying and tried to concentrate on just standing up straight and generally just staying in the fucking room. It was the last meeting of the day, and it was dragging on unbelievably slowly. Excruciatingly so, ever since a servant had arrived with a note for him a few minutes earlier. It was a simple, folded up little piece of paper with his name scribbled on it. He opened it and read it, and then he read it again, and again.
Alistair,
You're keeping me waiting, and it's driving me mad. I'm starting without you soon, but I'd much rather feel your strong hands on me instead of my own. I want you to feel how dripping wet I am for you. I'm biting my lip right this second, imagining it was your teeth nipping at my flesh. I want you to fucking ruin me, Maker, you are too good to not think about. I can't concentrate on anything else, HURRY, please, please, please.
Yours,
Ashe
He'd folded the note again and put it in his pocket, where it felt like it was burning a hole in the fabric against his skin. Maker's breath, how he wanted to throw everyone out of there and run, or stumble more likely, straight to her. But he just couldn't afford to piss off the nobles and the freeholders gathered around the table.
When they finally finished their yapping, he immediately excused himself and shot like a lightning bolt straight to his quarters. He shoved the door open. Disappointment formed in his stomach when he didn't catch sight of Ashe anywhere. He called out to her but got no answer.
Finally, he saw a piece of paper sitting on his desk, neatly folded, just like the note he'd received from her earlier. He snatched it off the wooden surface and quickly scanned the words.
Alistair,
I can't believe I'm writing this, but I have to postpone our time together this evening. Something came up and I can't ignore it. Duty calls, I'm afraid. But make no mistake – I can't wait to feel you inside of me. And I'll make it up to you, you better believe it. I keep my promises and then some.
Dreaming of you,
Ashe
He groaned and scrounged up the paper before tossing it in the fire. It was bad enough that she wasn't here, but did she have to write things like that? He wanted her so badly he thought he might explode if he didn't have her soon, and her words did nothing to calm his feverish blood. He threw himself down into a chair in front of the window and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. That little minx. He couldn't keep a smile off his face when he thought about what he would do to her later – how he would punish her for this, and how she would fucking love it.
He waited and waited, but she didn't come. The sky turned dark outside and he couldn't handle any more waiting around. It didn't take long for him to find her. She stood in the courtyard, wearing full Inquisition armor, her sword sheathed at her side, enduring the relentless downpour of rain with a stoic expression while she watched a whole throng of apparent recruits performing various exercises in front of her, illuminated both by torchlight and magic.
He ignored the rain and circled around the crowd and stood beside her, close enough to touch. She glanced at him and he noticed, rather pleased, how she couldn't keep herself from letting a little smile tug at the corner of her mouth as she saw him.
"Your Majesty," she said and inclined her head toward him.
"Inquisitor. Care to tell me about this spectacle? I tend to know about what's going on under my own roof, but you have me at a disadvantage here, I'm afraid."
"Technically, we're not under any roof right now, as you might have noticed from the rather annoying moisture falling from the sky," she said. "Although it matters little to me now that you've arrived. You would have made me soaking wet anyway." She said it as if she was speaking about what she had for lunch, and it was all he could do not to throw her down into the muddy grass and find out just how wet she really was. He pressed his arm against hers from the side, and even though she was wearing armor, the contact still sent a current through his body.
Making sure that no one else was listening, he spoke, his voice low and rumbling. "I want to taste you. I want to lick your warm, wet little cunt and see for myself if you're lying, if you're just teasing me. I would punish you severely if you did." His tone mimicked her casual one. It was music to his ears when he heard her inhale sharply as he spoke.
"Now you make me wish I were lying, Your Majesty. How..." she licked her lips, "how exactly would you punish me?"
"Maker, you're such an impatient little girl, aren't you? But alright, I'll tell you. First, I would push a finger into you, then another, and then I would coat your ass with your own slickness before I would spank you until you cried and begged for mercy."
Ashe looked unsteady on her feet and he could see her chest rise and fall rapidly. "Maker's breath," she murmured. "How the fuck am I supposed to concentrate now?"
He leaned over and put his lips against her ear. "Now you know what you've been doing to me all day long," he whispered, and then he licked her slowly, shielded from view by her hair.
"Andraste! Alistair, n-no more, I can't take it," she begged, her hand gripping his arm tightly.
"Come back with me then. What are you doing out here, anyway?"
"People from all over the city has come to plead themselves to the Inquisition. It's my duty... Oh-hh, Maker!" she whispered as he bit the side of her neck lightly. "M-my duty to see them and send the worthy ones to work. This is not a vacation, you kn... Shit, please, Alistair..."
He didn't know if she was pleading for him to stop or to go on. He didn't much care either. "You've seen enough. The King summons you, now. You have five minutes to finish up here, or there will be blood, sweat and tears to pay, do you understand?"
Her eyes were alight with an unearthly excited glow. "Oh yes, Your Majesty."
He smiled and walked away to the sound of the woman of his dreams barking orders and promising bloody murder to anyone who delayed the process.
Maker, how he loved her.
Cullen
He wondered why he hadn't heard any rumors about Ashe's engagement to the King yet. Gossip like that, about the wedding of the century, would spread like wildfire. But he'd heard nothing except the expected buzz about him being the new Arl of Amaranthine, and how exciting it was that their arlessa had finally married.
He tried not to think about it. He decided to go find Mahariel, he knew she was around somewhere. Thinking about her actually made him feel a bit better. When he'd spoken to her that morning, her golden hair had shone like a gem in the sunlight, and he'd actually had a hard time concentrating on what she was saying when he looked at those full, pink lips that moved so sensually when she spoke. He would be lying to himself if he claimed he'd never noticed how stunning she was before – but now that she was his wife, he was looking at her with new eyes, far more appreciatively. If he could just get over Ashe, if he could just push that girl out of his mind for more than five minutes, he might actually -
All those thoughts came to a halt when he heard Mahariel's melodious laughter echo between the walls. He turned a corner and saw her standing in one of the larger reception halls, hand in front of her mouth, clearly trying to control herself, and just as clearly failing.
When she bent forward in another burst of laughter, Cullen groaned loudly when he saw who was the reason for this apparently hilarious exchange.
Maker take me, just kill me now. Fucking Hawke.