Though she hasn't seen him since they spoke with Dagna, she is somehow certain he will come to her tonight and thus she is unsurprised when hours later, he is closing her door quietly behind him.
She is surprised, however, by the flat expression on his face and the way his eyes seem to look just beyond her. Standing in the middle of her room, barefoot in her smalls and his oversized tunic, she feels suddenly absurd and exposed.
Cullen's mouth opens and closes once before he speaks.
"I know we have not discussed such matters but..." he pauses, one hand passing roughly through his hair. "You are, of course, free to do as you wish with whomever you wish, but I will not share you."
It takes her a moment to process his statement, her head tilting. "I'm not-"
"Michel De Chevin is interested," he interrupts.
Evelyn scoffs. "He's Orlesian. Light flirting is his default."
Cullen gives her a hard look, his gaze drifting down her bare legs then back up again. "He's interested. As are others. And I wanted to make myself clear. "
This feels important somehow to Evelyn, one more of the many moments that will shape how they go forward. "Just you?"
"Just me," he confirms.
His posture is tense as he waits and she is still a little bewildered by his sudden need to clarify the boundaries of their assignations after her one training session with the Chevalier.
But also, she is pleased as long as...
"I don't share either," she replies.
His eyes flick over her face before he relaxes, pushing off from where he stands against the door.
"Only you," he promises.
"Only you," she agrees in return.
He takes her hand and gently tugs her towards the sofa before sitting down heavily, and with a sigh, closes his eyes.
He looks worn to her, the circles under his eyes darker than usual and his skin pale from the burdens on him with the extra weight of the lyrium. After a seconds consideration, instead of joining him as he expects, she kneels on the carpet before him and places her hands on either side of his thighs, careful not to make contact. His eyes widen as he takes her in.
"Tell me what you want me to do," she murmurs.
He sat up a little straighter, his head shaking. "I- You don't have to do this."
"I want to. But I won't do anything unless you tell me to."
The look at each other for a long moment, Cullen's expression a heartbreaking combination of want and uncertainty that fills Evelyn with determination as she lets her body relax and waits.
Finally, after what felt like an age, he spoke, his voice soft and a little hoarse. "Take off the tunic."
With a nod, she moves her hands to the hem that sits over her thighs and lifts, tossing the garment aside, leaving her clad in just her smalls. The fire in her hearth is warm at her back but her nipples still pebble in the winter air that ghosts through on a draft from her window.
"Take down your hair."
The request is simple enough and she pulls the two pins from her haphazard coif, the curls a little wild where they fall just past her shoulders. Her face flushes hot but she meets his gaze steadily as she rests her palms at his sides. The apprehension in his face seems to be melting away as he takes her in and Evelyn wishes she could know what she looks like to him in that moment. His eyes are steadily darkening as he seems to wrestle with some decision internally before his hands are moving in a rush, pulling at the laces of his pants while he shifts his posture lower on the cushion.
It is a little surreal when he pulls his cock out. She's never seen one this close before and it is all at once fascinating, illicit, and a little ridiculous in the way it stands up from him. It is a few shades darker than his own complexion, veined, and thick enough that she wonders how it could comfortably fit into a woman's body. Her lips part slightly in surprise when he glides his fist down it once, the skin sliding to reveal a rounded head. It is altogether primal, the way she can feel her lower body warming and softening in response.
He wets his lip. "You can touch it."
She can sense the tremor of faint anxiety in his words so she moves slowly, taking the pad of her index finger to trace along the exposed ridge. Though the movement contains more curiosity than seduction at its core, his chest rises and falls with a shudder.
Emboldened by his reaction to her light touch, she sweeps her thumb over the tip. It feels softer, more sponge-like that she was anticipating and she watches with rapt attention as it twitches against her hand. She repeats the movement and Cullen hisses, causing her to jerk back. "Does that hurt?"
His eyes open and the corner of his mouth tilts upward. "Definitely not."
"Oh."
She looks back at it, uncertain of how to proceed until Cullen sits up.
"Give me your hand."
The words are gruff but his touch gentle as he guides her fingers to wrap around him, his hand over hers. The skin is surprisingly soft and together, he moves them up and down his shaft. Glancing up, she finds him watching her and she only hopes that she hasn't broken out into that blotchy blush that makes her look like she's had one too many of Garblog's Reserve. A few more passes and his hand falls away and his head drops against the back of the sofa while she continues. Evelyn finds herself watching the way his adam's apple moves and his hands grip the fabric of the cushion underneath him. Before long, his hips start to flex up against her hand and he looks back at her, his chest heaving and eyes glassy. With a low groan, his body goes rigid and liquid erupts from his member to land across her chest.
She had known, of course, that would happen. However, like many things she encountered in her life, academic knowledge failed to accurately prepare her for practical experience. Curious, she releases him to drag one finger through the whitish fluid from where it landed between her breasts and Cullen makes a slightly strangled noise.
"On your back," he growls, quickly tucking himself away with one hand. She has barely reclined upon the carpet when he is tugging her knickers down her thighs to toss them somewhere about the room. His attention returns to her, his hands resting on her knees before he slowly pushes them apart while his breathing remains deep and labored as he just looks. She knows. With her legs spread as they are, she is completely open to him; she can feel the cold air brushing against the wetness of her inner folds and she instinctively clinches her inner walls, seeking warmth. Even from her position, she can hear him swallow.
Eventually, his eyes raise back over her body, tracing the pattern of his spend across her chest before meeting her eyes. Without breaking contact, he shifts down to close his lips over her clit and sucks.
Mine, she thinks, her thoughts a mix of pleasure, arousal, and possessiveness. For now at least, you are mine.
Warden Amell arrives one blustery morning, her expression grim as she relays the news that the Wardens have been swayed to use blood magic to try and kill the Old Gods. With every one of them hearing the calling, the looming death of their Order, and the protection they provide has driven them to desperation.
"This has Corypheus written all over it," says Cullen from his end of the War table. "The timing is no coincidence."
"They will wait until as many of us have amassed as possible. The roads being as they are, we have some time, but not much," replies Solona, the snow on her cloak slowly melting onto the floor. "A month, by my estimation."
"Our forces against the Grey Wardens?" asks Josie, her brow furrowed in consternation.
"Our numbers have been small from before even my time and were further decimated by the Blight. I hope to salvage something of what remains. But we are well trained and desperate. It would be best to prepare for a battle."
Evelyn nods. "Of course. We march in a month's time, then."
"Thank you, Inquisitor."
Evelyn smiles at the Warden and nods to dismiss the group. Leiliana's posture relaxes and she reaches out to place a hand on her old friend's shoulder.
"You must be exhausted, Solona. Let me show you to your room."
"Just a moment, Leiliana."
It is not until she is out the room that she notices Warden Amell approaching an uncertain appearing Cullen, but this vanishes behind the heavy oak of the War Room door.
Halfway through her sword lesson, Evelyn notices Hawke perch herself up on the fencing, loudly biting into an apple while she watches.
"Care to learn, Marian? I think I saw a smallsword on Warden Amell when she arrived yesterday."
"No thanks," she replies between bites. "There is something quite satisfying about knocking someone upside the head with my staff."
Evelyn snorts a laugh and returns to her exercise, so engrossed, she does not notice at first when Solona joins Hawke on the fence line. The two are murmuring to each other and Evelyn can pick out a slight resemblance between the two. The dark hair and shape of their eyes are startling in their similarity, but as where Hawke is all relaxed swagger, the Warden holds herself straight as if persistently ready. It reminds her of Cullen.
"Enough!" announces Hawke once she has finished her snack and hops down off the railing. "Time to put that practice to use with your magic. The Warden here will be joining us."
Evelyn has to admit she is very curious about the woman, not the least of which is how ten years fighting darkspawn has honed her fighting skills. Dismissing the Chevalier, she retrieves her staff and jogs to catch up with the other magi.
It is Amell who hangs back until they draw even and jerks her head back towards the sparring circle. "It is good to see a mage learning other forms of combat." She taps the small blade on her left hip. "Knowing how to use this has saved my life countless times."
"Who taught you?"
"It is not uncommon to cross-train when possible within the Grey Warden ranks, but," she smiles, her eyes going a little distant, "my first teacher was Alistair."
Evelyn frowns, the name sounding familiar until recognition blooms.
Alistair Theirin, the warden who dealt the killing blow to the Archdemon.
"How was he?"
Solona's brow quirks up. "As a teacher? Fairly shite," she laughs. "At my first lesson, he said 'uh, well, you see, this end is for holding, and this end here is for stabbing'. But he was otherwise wonderful."
Evelyn doesn't know how to respond to the warden's bittersweet tone and so she remains silent.
"It is strange," remarks Solona, "to see so many familiar faces after all this time. I truly never expected to see Morrigan again. "
"Leiliana is wary of her. "
"As she should be. Morrigan answers to a code of her own that I have only the faintest grip on. I trust her not to harm or kill me but our friendship is complicated and I would not say the trust between us extends to any organizations we align with."
"Understood."
They halt as Hawke turns around in the snowy field, her arms wide with that slash of a smile upon her face. "Shall we begin?"