A/N: Thank you to everyone who reads! This chapter is NSFW, so just a heads up. Also, I don't normally write smut, so feedback is always appreciated.

...-...

When Cullen first kissed Finley, she'd been so still that he'd been sure he'd misunderstood what she'd said. However, even as he'd apologized, cheeks burning as he tried to think how to fix their situation, she'd dismissed all his fears and doubts with a kiss of her own.

From there, it was as though a fire had been lit inside of him, and he'd been desperate to commit the shape of her lips, the feel of her skin under his roaming hands, all of it to memory.

He forgot everything else, that he was her commander, that she was supposedly both a witch and Andraste's chosen, that there were so many differences between them that pursuing such an affair might not be wise.

Instead, all he could think of was her and how she felt pressed against him.

He pulled her back to his bed, falling against it so that he was sitting on the edge. When they broke for breath, he jerked his shirt off, thinking only that it was in his way.

She slid into his lap without coaxing, pressing herself against him again, one hand in his hair as the other cradled his neck. He met her passion with his own, an arm wrapping around her waist and anchoring her to him as he kissed her.

When she rocked her hips against him, he just about went mad.

A little voice in the back of his mind whispered that this was happening rather quickly, that perhaps he should slow things down. It wouldn't do to move too quickly, when they were just coming to terms with how they felt for one another.

When she rolled her hips again, biting his lower lip and then moving to leave a trail of kisses down his neck, he completely forgot all of that.

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, other hand still splayed against her lower back, he pulled her shirt away from her neck and kissed the exposed skin, relishing the taste of her. She let out a soft moan, and he felt heat raging in him.

She smelled of freshly broken twigs and rain, and he wanted nothing more than to be lost in her, in every way possible.

His hands went to the hem of her shirt, and she paused, lifting her arms so that he could pull the cloth away from her. When it was tossed aside, he pulled her close again, kissing her and letting his tongue run across her lower lip, thrilled when she opened her mouth to him, tongue caressing his.

Trailing his fingers up over her spine, he hesitated when he reached her breast strap. Pulling back so that his forehead rested against hers, he listened to her gasps for breath for a moment, enjoying the feel of her against him.

"Keep going," Finley murmured, brushing her nose against his, her voice a soft, but resolute plea.

He didn't need a second invitation.

As he cast aside her breast strap, she moved from his lap, and he almost protested until he saw she was slipping out of the rest of her clothes. He took advantage of her absence to tug off his own, barely getting them to his knees before she was on his lap again, arms around him, mouth and body both pressed to his.

He took in a shaky breath as she rocked herself against him again. He was already hard, and the feel of her skin against him drove him wild. How many nights had he woken from dreams like this, riddled with guilt that he was playing out fantasies with a woman who might not even want such affections.

To have those fears banished, that guilt assuaged, was like divine providence, something he didn't deserve, but couldn't bring himself to turn away.

Maker, how he'd wanted this. Wanted her.

Abruptly, he gripped her around the waist and rolled them so that they were more on the bed and he was on top of her. He kissed her once more, feeling as though every inch of him that touched her was on fire. This was so much better than any dream could ever be.

After another break for breath, he began to move down, planting open kisses on her neck and then her collarbone. She moaned again, writhing under him, finger nails scraping his scalp. He smiled against her soft skin, breathing in her intoxicating scent and basking in the way she touched him, as though she'd been wanting him as long as he'd wanted her.

It felt so surreal and completely and utterly perfect.

As he cupped her breast and stroked her skin with a calloused thumb, relishing the sounds she made in response, one of the doors to his office below banged open, and he heard an all too familiar voice.

"Commander!"

Cullen stilled where he was, mind trying to put together what had just happened and who in the Maker damned void would be bothering him at this hour. Finley's breath caught softly.

"Commander? I'm sorry to bother you when you're sleeping, but…"

Hands sounded softly as they gripped the rungs of his ladder.

Jerking to his feet, he nearly tripped over his pants which were still bunched around his calves, though he jerked them up quickly, not bothering to tie them into place so that they hung low on his hips. "What?"

The word rang out harshly, though he couldn't be bothered to care.

When he came to stand at the top of his ladder, he could see that same scout that had interrupted him when he was trying to talk to Finley before, earlier in the day, already halfway up.

The man looked a little lost and a little frightened as he stared up at Cullen, though as Cullen's brow dipped down, he finally found his voice. At the same time, he started back down the ladder. "Ser Barris has returned from Denerim, ser. Ambassador Josephine wanted to speak with the Inquisitor about what he has to say, but she can't find her, so she was hoping you might help look, since you seem to have a better feel for her than most."

Cullen wasn't sure if Finley's groan was loud enough for the scout to hear, but he definitely caught it, pausing to glance over and see that she'd covered the top half of her face with an arm, a frown replacing her earlier smile. The rest of the view was rather picturesque, and he almost forgot he was talking with someone, half ready to go back to her when he realized he was being watched.

"Tell Josephine that our Inquisitor needs her rest. She can discuss it in the morning." When the scout didn't leave the bottom of his ladder, Cullen narrowed his eyes again. "Is there a problem?"

"W-well, she said you might say that, but…"

"But?"

"Last time, the Inquisitor left so quickly. She was worried she might not catch her in the morning."

Cullen closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath, willing himself not to throw something at the scout, and then looked back down, a tepid smile in place. "I'll make sure to catch her before she leaves."

While the scout looked as though he might want to argue further, he finally just nodded. "Good night, then, Commander. I hope you…sleep…well." The last word was uttered as he bolted out the nearest door and off into the night.

Once they had further repairs under way, he was really going to need to get locks for those doors.

Taking in a slow breath, he turned back to Finley to see she was lying on his bed, propping herself up on her elbows to watch him, a half smile in place as she bit her lower lip. As he walked back toward the bed, she sat up slowly to meet him, head tilted as she let her gaze wander appreciatively down his body. "I need my rest?"

Cullen hesitated when he was standing in front of her. Despite having used it as an excuse, it was true enough. She would be traveling a long ways, presumably, and the last thing he wanted was her falling off her horse because he'd been too selfish to let her sleep. "I…you really do."

The words rang with defeat.

Finley's gaze wandered so painfully slowly back to his, that his breath caught in his throat twice before she met his stare with one that he couldn't read. Carefully, she reached out, lightly taking hold of the top of his pants and pulling him a step closer. "I can think of a way that I'll sleep very well tonight."

Cullen felt that fire in him stirring again as he watched her, her gaze never leaving his. "Are you sure?"

She raised up onto her knees, slipping her arms around his neck as she pulled herself flush to him, her breasts pressing against his chest. Pulling him down, she kissed his ear and then his jaw, moving painfully slowly to his chin and then pausing. "I suppose if you want to call it a night—"

He didn't remember kicking off his pants or getting back on the bed. Instead, his ears were filled with the sound of her laughing, and his mind with the feel of her body underneath his.

When his hand slid down between her legs, he found she was already wet and wanting, and her kisses were more urgent as he circled her clit gently with his thumb.

"I want you…" The last word trailed off into a whimper as she moved against his ministrations, head tilting back as she gasped. "Cullen."

His name had barely been a whisper on her lips, but he'd never heard it said more beautifully, and instantly he was kissing every inch of her he could reach as they rocked their hips together, building friction between them.

Moving his hand back down, he took hold of himself as she wrapped one of her legs around his hip, and angled himself to enter her. When he paused, looking at her to be sure this was what she wanted, she stroked one of his cheeks, kissing him as her other hand went down to join his, guiding him inside of her.

Just being inside of her was indescribable, and he held himself there a moment, savoring the feel of her around him before beginning slow thrusts with his hips.

There was a short, awkward moment before they found their rhythm, bodies entwined, breath mingling as they gasped and gripped one another, desperate to be as close as they could.

When she finally came undone, she arched into him, her cry soft and fingers digging into his back.

He followed her soon after, his world shattering with ecstasy.

When he came back down, he was still over her, gasping for breath as she was, arms half curled around her. He lay there another moment before pressing a kiss to her jaw and then pushing himself up and sprawling out on the bed beside her. Looking back at her, he reached out to gently brush his fingers against her cheek.

Her chest heaved along with his, body glistening in the dim light with sweat.

Maker, he'd never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

She turned her head toward him, pressing a chaste kiss to the backs of his knuckles and then reaching up and taking his hand. "Well, commander? Do you have a better feel of me than most?"

He couldn't help but laugh at that. "I suppose I do, don't I?" Sitting up, he hesitated, letting himself drink in the sight of her again before motioning toward the pillows. "We should, uh, probably…"

Finley rolled over, eyeing him with a half-smile in place. "Is that my invitation to stay?"

Cullen felt heat creeping into his cheeks, despite everything they'd just done. "I-I'm not going to just kick you out or—"

She interrupted him with a gentle kiss before slipping under the bedsheets and shuffling over to make room for him. "I'm teasing you."

Slipping under the covers after her, he was thrilled when she curled up next to him as soon as he'd settled down. Wrapping an arm around her, he smiled and snuggled down closer to her. For the first time in a long time...maybe even forever, he felt like his life was right.

For once, he was exactly where he needed to be.

…-…

Cullen lay in bed, staring up at the hole in his ceiling, half sure that he was dreaming. His thumb traced gentle circles against Finley's shoulder as she slept beside him, one arm slung across his chest and head on his shoulder, her chest rising and falling peacefully.

Despite what he'd said to her, he hadn't been able to fall asleep himself, instead going over the night over and over in his mind, if only to assure himself that he really was holding the woman he cared for.

He felt her stir, fingers curling gently against his skin and her breathing changing ever so slightly.

"Finley?" When she let out a soft hum of a reply, he hesitated and then allowed himself a selfish question. "Does it have to be you who goes to the Wilds? I could send soldiers. Or Leliana could send someone."

"Mmmm, no," Finley murmured against him, shaking her head, but not lifting it. Sleep still hung heavily on her words as she added, "It'd be like my bag. Impossible to find for anyone else."

"Why now, though?"

She was silent for so long that he thought she'd fallen back to sleep, when her voice finally cut through the darkness, any hints of sleep gone from it. "I think Corypheus is going to start another Blight."

Cullen stilled the circles he'd been tracing on her shoulder. "You're sure?" He hesitated a second, thinking through what they'd seen. "Because of his archdemon?"

"Because of the red lyrium," Finley buried her face against him a moment before shaking her head and sitting up, her hair more of a wild mess than usual as it fell in tangles around her. "It's wrong. It's…I can't explain it. It's like the Blight. I think it might be the Blight. I don't know. It's…we can't let it spread like it is. We have to get rid of it."

"We'll look into it, I promise," Cullen offered, feeling helpless despite his assurances. If red lyrium was really related to the Blight…

Maker, help them.

"It's not fair."

He was pulled from his thoughts as Finley picked at a lock of hair. He saw her brow pinch together and thought she might comment on it for a second before she simply put her hands over her face, taking in a ragged breath. "Alistair stopped the Blight. It's supposed to be over. We're supposed to be safe. It isn't…fair."

Cullen sat up beside her, moving to slip an arm around her waist as he pulled her to him, though it didn't feel like it was nearly enough. Even as he scrambled for something to say, Finley took in a ragged breath and began to talk again.

"I had a home." She was quiet for a moment. "It was little and cold and far enough south that the templars never swept through. The Chasind either didn't know we were there, or they didn't care. They left us alone, and we left them alone. We were happy, we were safe."

She trailed off, her hands slowly falling away from her face to rest on the blankets bunched up around her waist. Unshed tears glimmered in her eyes. Her gaze was focused on Cullen's bed sheets, not really seeing her surroundings as memories swept up. "Everything was so…perfect. And then one of the Chasind came stumbling into our garden, bloodied and terrified, speaking so quickly we could barely understand him." She paused and shook her head, correcting herself. "Well, I could. He never really picked up the language."

Cullen felt an odd curl in his stomach as she referred to whoever she'd been with. That she'd shared a home with them meant they'd been close, and the pain in her voice was so…heartbreaking.

"He died, the Chasind man." Finley's hands found their way back to her hair as she fidgeted. "I wasn't as good of a healer then. We went to see what had happened. We hoped it was just that the man was mad or that he'd lost to a wild animal or…" Her voice wavered and nearly broke as she finished, "The darkspawn were coming out in droves. Marching."

Cullen watched her, gaze slowly lowering to the expanse of blankets covering their legs. He'd known she was from the Wilds, known that the Blight had started out there, and yet he'd never really thought about how that might have affected her. It reminded him just how little he actually knew of her.

Even so, he found himself pulling her closer to him, wishing that that action alone was enough to banish her sadness.

"We lost our home, and had to flee. So many were displaced, so much was lost," Finley whispered, turning a little so that she could rest her head against his shoulder. "There were creatures who had lived for ages and the Blight claimed them. There were these old trees that I'd always loved…the Blight took everything, and I was left so…alone."

Cullen wanted to ask about the person she'd been with, the one she'd mentioned, but didn't. He didn't want to make her think he was prying or to make her relive what couldn't be a pleasant story.

He finally settled for resting his head against hers. "I'm sorry."

"There can't be another Blight."

"We'll do whatever we can," Cullen assured her. "We'll stop Corypheus and—"

"I don't want to fight him," Finley whispered. Even as Cullen blinked, she twisted in his arms so that she could look up at him. "You never saw him, but he was a monster. He was…everything that's wrong. Corrupted magic, corrupted flesh, evil. He is the Blight."

She brought her left hand up to her chest, her other hand rubbing it gently. "He picked me up like I was nothing, and I could feel all the corruption in him."

"Like the red lyrium?" Cullen asked, barely able to keep himself from reaching out to hold her hands.

"No," Finley shook her head, staring down toward the blankets. "No…if he'd felt like the red lyrium, I would have pieced together that the red lyrium and Blight were connected sooner." She frowned at herself. "I should have anyway. He's a darkspawn. They corrupt everything, ruin everything. Drive people to…" She trailed off a moment before whispering, "He was so much worse. With the Blight, you can feel whatever it was supposed to be being corrupted, same with the red lyrium. With him…if there was ever anything human, anything pure or good inside of him, it's gone. Completely and utterly gone."

"You shouldn't have had to face that alone," Cullen murmured, guilt spearing through him. "I'm so…sorry."

It felt like that was all he could say.

It took him by surprise when Finley reached out and caught one of his hands, lacing her slender fingers with his, pressing her palm against his. "Do you think…maybe there's a way that we can beat him without having to…face him? You know a lot about tactics. Maybe we could lure him somewhere and…start another avalanche or something?"

Cullen squeezed her hand, his thumb stroking the back of her palm. "Well, if the opportunity presents itself, we'll certainly try."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

A small smile graced her lips, though it was gone far too quickly. "I have our arcanist looking at some samples of red lyrium now." Cullen barely got a chance to wonder when they'd gotten an arcanist when she kept going. "I'm…I'm going to get more samples of red lyrium so she can look at them. Maybe, knowing that it's related to the Blight, we can find a way to…contain it? Repel it…? Something."

"It will be dangerous to keep here, but if it will help us, I certainly see the merit to it."

"We'll keep it in the Undercroft, so we'll need to let the templars know not to go there," Finley reasoned. She was moving her thumb across his hand as well, and he was surprised at how oddly comforting such a small touch was. He hoped he could bring her as much comfort.

"I'll discuss this with Ser Barris, Ser Yorric, and Ser Rylen. We'll make sure no one who's likely to fall prey to its song gets exposed to it."

She nodded and silence fell between them for a few moments, the two of them simply sitting there, holding hands.

"Did you hear a song?"

"What?"

"When you were near the red lyrium?" Finley clarified. "I remember seeing you get hurt…It's not clear…everything was…red. But…"

"Yes," Cullen murmured. He closed his eyes, though that merely brought the memory of that song, and of the blue song ringing up into his ears. He opened his eyes and found Finley watching him carefully, worried. "It was beautiful, and I wanted nothing more than to be part of it."

"I heard screaming." Finley replied. "When I got scratched with it. It was like a cacophony of voices screaming in pain, wanting the world to hurt the way they did."

"The song never seems to go well with magic," Cullen murmured, without really thinking about it.

As soon as he said it, he wondered if he should have, but Finley simply nodded, thoughtful. "Do you think it will be okay to bring red lyrium here? Should we find somewhere else to study it?"

Cullen considered her question for a moment before nodding. "I think it will be fine. I've heard that most of our templars don't have a problem resisting its song, if they're not around it too long."

The admission left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"But it affected you," Finley protested, brow pinching together. She appraised him carefully. "You're stronger than most of them. If you can't…"

Her words trailed off into a silence that he would have liked to let reign, but instead, he took in a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"When I left the Templar Order, I stopped taking lyrium." He pulled his hand free so that he could fall back onto the bed, staring up at the hole in his ceiling. "I…they use lyrium as a way to keep templars leashed to the Chantry, and after everything, I wanted to be free, so I stopped taking it. It calls to me, though, and there are times when I want it so…badly."

"It leashes you…?"

"You've probably noticed that templar abilities are much stronger right after we've consumed lyrium," Cullen explained, daring a glance at her. She'd started to move after him, but had stopped herself short, as though she didn't know if she should. After all, he'd been the one to pull away.

"I have."

"Well, they give it to us so that we can combat magic, but it's also highly addictive." Cullen brought his hand up to his forehead, to press against the headache that was threatening to surface there. "Without it…templars can die. Our abilities are..."

Weaker.

Were they, though?

He hadn't really tried to use his abilities since he'd quit using lyrium. Part of him was afraid that he would see just how much he had lost.

And another part of him was afraid he'd be able to use them just as well.

That the lyrium would prove to have little effect on his performance.

"You could die?"

Finley's voice was a broken quiver. When he looked at her, he saw panic in her eyes. It was unlike any of the fears he'd seen grip her before, and he sat up, reaching out and lightly letting one of his hands trail down her back.

"I won't."

"You just said—"

"It can happen," Cullen admitted, glancing around as though he might find something lying about that would help him with what he was trying to say. Of course there was nothing. "But I won't let myself be leashed like that. No more." He paused before adding, "Cassandra knows. If I am unable to fulfill my role as commander, she's agreed to help me find a replacement. But until then, I will serve—"

Rather abruptly, he was encircled in two thin arms, his face pressed against Finley's collarbone as she held him. His mind blanked, and his breath hitched in his throat.

"You can't die," she repeated, her voice barely a whisper. "I'll…I can heal you. If it gets bad, I'll help." At that, she let go of him, dropping back to her knees in front of him, gaze searching his for something. "Is that why you get headaches?"

"…Yes."

"I can help with that. I can't make them go away permanently, but I can help numb them…" She hesitated, magic starting to flicker to life on her fingertips only to fade away almost as quickly. "But I won't be here for the next…while. I could…I know herbal teas. I can leave you the recipes and you can have someone make them for you. Adan or…."

As she spoke, she looked around his room for paper and started to get out of bed to help the search.

Cullen caught her without thinking, hands cupping her face and drawing her closer to him. "Finley." She'd still been murmuring about the different things she could make that might help. "I told you before, didn't I?" When her brow pinched together, he gave her a gentle smile, thumb brushing her cheek. "If I need help, I'll ask. And if it happens when you're not here, I'll ask Adan."

"Promise?"

"As always," he offered with another smile.

She abruptly leaned forward again, head resting on his shoulder, arms slipping around him, holding him firmly to herself.

"I don't want anything bad to happen to you. Between you and Alistair and…everyone, it feels like. Everyone's…sick. Is it even a sickness?"

However, rather than answer her question, Cullen's brow pinched together. Now that he thought of it, she'd mentioned Alistair by name before, hadn't she? While he'd heard the man was here, he hadn't heard that he was ill. Cullen hesitated, trying not to narrow his eyes as he watched her. "Alistair. Alistair…Theirin?"

"The grey warden who killed the archdemon," Finley clarified. She sounded like she might cry.

At the mere thought of the man.

"He's not well, either," Finley whispered. "It's not right that someone who saved us all from the Blight would be sick like that. I…I don't know how to help him get better, either."

So her fear hadn't been just for him, but in being overwhelmed that there were more than one person who she couldn't help.

Cullen tried to push aside the oddly crushed sensation in his chest, like someone had punched a hole through him, making it hard to breathe.

After all, he was the one she was curled up with, the one she'd sought comfort in, wasn't he?

Or had that been all she'd sought? Reprieve from an overwhelming sense of helplessness?

He certainly knew what it was like to seek another out in desperation rather than desire. But her lips against his hadn't felt…

He wanted to ask her what this was, what they were, if it meant what he wanted it to mean, but he didn't want to ruin what they had. It frustrated him and made him again feel helpless himself, until she squeezed her arms around him.

"Before I go, I'll write down the recipes for Adan." She hesitated, slowly bringing one of her hands back to his chest and running her fingers gently through his light dusting of chest hair. "If you want, I won't say they're for you. I'll just tell him they're for if people need them."

The moment she started talking, part of him wanted to protest, but there was such sincerity in her voice, such concern. Cupping her chin, he tilted her head up and kissed her, long and slow.

When he finally pulled away, he leaned his forehead against hers. He'd intended to tell her not to bother, but her eyes pleaded with him silently, and he found himself smiling faintly as he brushed some of her hair away from her face. "Alright. Thank you."

A hopeful spark lit in her eyes as she nodded. "When I get back, I'll take a proper look at you."

"I think you've already had a proper look," he teased, a hand squeezing her hip. Even as she rolled her eyes—he could swear there was a bit of mischief in them for a split second—he lay back down pulling her with him. "Come then. You've a long trip today, and there's a few hours yet before the world needs you."

She seemed ready to argue a moment before snuggling down and curling against him again. "As you say, commander."

He couldn't help but chuckle at that, tugging the covers back up over them and finally falling asleep to the soft sound of her breathing.