Character: Cullen Rutherford
Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition
OC: Ariaya Lavellan, kind, mischievous
Inspiration: Excited to post this one! I'm pretty sure there's no one in existence who isn't at least a little bit in love with Cullen, am I right? ;D Anyway, for my Dragon Age readers - I'm working on a Zevran lemon that should be done soon. Thinking about doing a DA only request session sometime over the next few months. Anyone interested? Let me know in the comments ;)
Aria doesn’t like chess. It isn’t as though she downright hates the game, it’s just that she doesn’t understand it. No matter how many times Dorian tries to teach her, the rules never seem to stick. There are too many pieces, and too many directions in which to move them. After a while, the tumbling black and white checkers make her head spin.
They don’t have games like that in her clan. Their constant traveling lifestyle makes it difficult to keep anything that isn’t necessary for daily survival. Games certainly aren’t a part of that, no matter how much Varric likes to dispute otherwise.
So – Aria doesn’t like chess very much. That is why Cullen is so surprised when she suddenly appears in his office one evening and suggests a match.
“You hate chess,” he says with a confused frown. He reaches up and scrubs at his eyes, blinking back the exhaustion that has become yet another part of his life. His desk is covered in reports and he still has a lot to do before he can call it a night, but he doesn’t immediately refute Aria’s suggestion. Saying no to her is…difficult. For a multitude of reasons, most of which go well beyond the obligatory respect for her title.
Aria shrugs. “I don’t hate it,” she denies, twisting her mouth up indignantly. Then she adds, “…I thought you might teach me some more, that’s all.”
That isn’t all, if Aria is being honest, but she decides to keep the rest of her ideas to herself for now. She gives Cullen that smile – the one that makes his resolve utterly shatter into millions of irreparable pieces – and he clears his throat. The effect she has on him is staggering, and it only grows more potent with every day. Ever since they’d been intimate that first time, it rather feels as though his very soul trembles in her presence. Falling in love is a tiring but intoxicating thing.
He can’t say no to her – doesn’t even want to. The thought of spending a relaxing evening in her chambers seems divine.
So Cullen merely says, “I’ll drop by in an hour, after I’ve dealt with a few more of these reports.”
Aria seems perfectly fine with that, and she hums in agreement. When she raises her eyes to his, something burns behind them. An unidentifiable glimmer that makes the hair on the back of Cullen’s neck stand on edge. He knows right then and there that he is missing something. Something important.
“Don’t be too long, Cullen,” Aria murmurs. The corner of her mouth tips up into a small smirk that looks oddly predatory on her face.
He is definitely missing something.
Still, his confusion disappears once she leaves, and for the next hour Cullen busies himself with reports. Aria keeps herself busy too.
Her chambers had been tidied earlier, and she goes around the room to light sconces and candles so as to brighten the space. She throws more logs onto the fire, hoping to remove all traces of the chill mountain air. Indeed, her plans require warmth for success, though she isn’t entirely sure it will make a terribly big difference at the end of it all.
What is it those Orlesians like to say? Presentation is key? She giggles.
She is just setting up the chess set Dorian had let her borrow when a knock announces Cullen’s presence at her door. She shouts a quick, “Come in!” and waits for his heavy footsteps to reach the top of the stairs before turning to him.
“Cullen,” she murmurs with a smile. He returns it, sweeping his gaze over the room. It isn’t particularly different from how it normally is, save of course for the chess set Aria has dragged in front of the fire.
“Why don’t you take off your armor?” she suggests idly, and goes back to setting the game up. She is having trouble remembering where the bishops and knights go.
Cullen hums in agreement and she hears the telltale sound of buckles and the clinking of steel as the armor is removed. After a moment, Aria takes a seat and glances over at him, fingers still drumming on the table as she tries to recall Dorian’s instructions. It is hard to do when Cullen is currently stripping himself down to the simple cotton shirt and trousers he wears beneath his armor. Such simple clothes, but the way they outline the muscles of his arms and the broadness of his shoulders makes her mouth water.
Soon, she reminds herself.
With the armor off and neatly placed on the floor by the sofa, Cullen strides toward her. She doesn’t expect the sudden way he threads his fingers into her hair, tips her head back, and lowers his mouth to hers – but she certainly enjoys it. Aria kisses him back languidly, and when he pulls away, Cullen smirks.
“I’ve wanted to do that all day,” he murmurs to her. She grins, feeling only a little bashful. His sincerity often makes her tremble in the wake of it.
His runs his fingers lightly down her face, catching her lower lip with his thumb, and smiles almost wolfishly down at her. She shivers.
It would be easy, so easy, to convince him to continue down this path. He is willing – the burn of his eyes told her that. But Aria has been planning this night for too long to just toss it away so quickly. She wants to take her time. Make him crazy for want of touching her.
“You’re first,” she whispers, inches from his mouth. He looks momentarily confused at the words before he remembers why she has invited him up here to begin with.
Clearing his throat, Cullen pulls back and chuckles. “Of course.”
He takes his seat.
Aria knows before the game even begins that she will lose. Cullen is a masterful player. He’s been playing all his life, and she has only just started to learn the game only a few short weeks ago. But she isn’t trying to win.
He takes one of her pawns on his third move.
With a glimmering smile, Cullen glances up at her. He isn’t sure what he plans on saying. Something teasing? Perhaps a word of encouragement? The game has only just begun, after all. If she has improved since the last time they’d played, she has a chance to beat him. But everything he wants to say falls short when he notices the way she is propping her foot onto her chair and unlacing her boot.
“…Getting comfortable?” he wonders, raising one eyebrow at her. Aria just laughs and hums, looking strangely dangerous even as she hikes the boot from her foot and throws it across the room. Oddly enough, she doesn’t go for the other one.
“My move?” she askes instead, turning her attention to the board. She moves her pawn forward and looks up at him.
Two more moves, and then Aria steals one of is pawns and sets it happily on her end of the table. Cullen chuckles at the way her expression brightens with pride, and looks down to see what he will move next.
Before he gets the chance, Aria snorts and says, “Cullen, don’t be like that. You’ve got to follow the rules.”
He looks up at her with a frown. “Pardon?” he asks, not sure what she is talking about.
Aria just smirks and nods at him, “Take something off. It’s only fair.”
He gapes at her.
“…Take something off?” he repeats after a moment, and then rolls his eyes and mutters, “Dorian…”
She laughs and nudges him with her foot. “I hadn’t realized that strip chess was a thing. I like the idea of it though.” She rests her chin on her palm and purrs, “…Don’t you?”
The look in her eyes has him swallowing tightly. At once, Cullen feels cornered. The odds are completely against her and they both know it, but the thought doesn’t help much. Her suggestion for tonight suddenly seems as beautiful as it does perilous.
He still reachs down to unlace his own boot. Saying no to her is impossible, especially when it has to do with something like this. His heart does a little flip at the thought of her putting herself in such a position, knowing how awful she is at this game. He can only assume that she doesn’t much care for the consequences. That, perhaps, she wants to lose to him.
Well, that is something Cullen can do. He gives her a little smirk and tosses his boot off to join hers on the floor, then turns his attention back to the board.
He will crush her.
She smirks at the determined expression now coloring his face and allows him to make his move. One of his knights knocks over a bishop. She shucks her other boot off, strategizing what the best clothes would be to remove first as she peers down at the board. She should be thinking of how to beat him at this game, but Aria is practical. She knows she doesn’t stand a chance unless she plays a little dirty.
Cullen doesn’t like cheaters, but she has a feeling he’ll like this.
They barter back and forth across the table for several moves, shifting pieces until the chessboard is fairly intermingled. They two of them have both removed their boots and socks. Aria has also untied the band holding her hair together and so the long messy braid is now undone and framing her face. It is around that time when things start to get a little complicated.
Cullen destroys her rook with a well placed move from his queen, and gives her a smirk that frankly makes her want to kiss him. There is an expression she does not often see on his face – that devil may care regard. How lovely to see it there now.
And to hear it in his voice when he murmurs, “I believe it’s your move, Inquisitor.”
How utterly unfair of him to use her title in such a purring, delicious way.
She sends him a glance that makes his smirk deepen, and unfastens the leather ties of her pants. Aria shuffles out of them slowly, extricating herself from the fabric before tossing it to join their pile of discarded clothing. Then she props her knee up, smiles at Cullen, and turns her attention to the board.
He is only a little taken aback by the sight of her bare knee appearing above the table. Aria often sits in such a way, with one or both knees propped up. Tonight she’s just…not wearing pants as she does it. Maker.
Aria somehow manages to knock over his bishop and grins proudly, eyes glimmering as she glances up at him. Cullen is smiling, no doubt amused at her glee. His eyes turn dark and hungry when she murmurs, “Your move, Commander.”
Aria somehow manages to knock over his bishop and grins proudly, eyes glimmering as she glances up at him. Cullen is smiling, no doubt amused at her glee. His eyes turn dark and hungry when she murmurs, “Your move, Commander.”
Two can play his little game.
He swallows tightly, reaching up to pull his tunic off his body. The fabric drags over his skin and with every inch revealed, Aria feels her throat get drier and drier. He’s so handsome and half the time, he doesn’t even realize it.
When Cullen’s upper half is bare, he sends her a tiny smirk before averting his attention to the board with singular focus. It seems that while she’s been strategizing which clothes to remove first, Cullen has actually been coming up with a battle plan for his cause. Hardly surprising from the Commander of her forces, though she is left a little shocked when she suddenly realizes that he’s cornered her in several different areas of the board. Huh.
Instead of getting angry, Aria feels a burst of sharp arousal tear through her at the realization. He’s good. He’s proven himself several times over and – Mythal, he looks perfect in the firelight. The muscles of his chest taper down to with subtle masculinity, brushed over with that blond chest hair that she is so fascinated with. She can't help it - her own race is practically hairless in comparison. Where elves are lithe and elegant, humans are powerful and earthy in a different way. It is an endless source of curiosity for her.
The first time she’d seen that chest hair, Aria had been completely overwhelmed with that curiosity that she had spent a good portion of the evening fawning over his chest and lavishing him with attention. She has half a mind to do the same now.
“Your shirt, this time?” Cullen inquires, leaning back as he watches her watch him. He knows the look on her face. With a not so subtle grin, Cullen tugs at the collar of his shirt and lets it fall open, chuckling when Aria’s cheeks puff out in consternation at being caught. Then she realizes his words.
And she laughs. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she teases, but reaches into her shirt instead of peeling it off. Instead, she goes for her breast band, hands tenting the shirt as she unravels the band from inside the protective layer of clothing. It’s technically not cheating. And besides, Cullen looks downright hungry as he stares at her.
She drops the band to the floor with a flourish, then leans forward to push her elbows onto the table and allow the collar of the shirt to fall open. Cullen’s eyes dart down to that opening, catching just a hint of those pert breasts, that sinful cleavage. He can see the outline of her nipples against the fabric and swallows, clenching his fist beneath the table.
His cock twitches headily as he struggles to maneuver his way around his arousing thoughts.
She’s doing this on purpose. Cullen rubs his face and chuckles tiredly. As a strategist, he’s got to admit that it’s a damn good move on her part. Distraction is always a good technique – especially when it comes in such a scintillating form.
“You’re too smart for your own good, Inquisitor,” he tells her, reverting back to her title without thought. Aria just laughs.
“Thank you, Commander. Now I believe it’s my move.” She leans forward to make her move and the fabric dips lower. Cullen tries not to stare (he really does) but Maker it’s hard, impossible even, to ignore the desire that presses through him now. As she makes her move, he decides that he really needs to get the rest of her clothes off. Now.
Cullen barely even glances at the board as he knocks over her pawn and looks at her, waiting. But instead of taking her shirt off, Aria merely stands up and starts shucking off her underwear, wriggling her hips just so as it drops to the floor. Her shirt is long enough to hide the sight of her hips, but it hardly ruins anything for Cullen. In fact, he finds his arousal spinning more heavily, ricocheting through his body with such determined desperation that he can hardly remember how he planned on beating her at this game. All his strategies seem useless. Now, he just wants her naked.
Aria resumes her seat, tossing Cullen a wicked smirk as she wriggles into a comfortable position. He can only imagine what the wood of her chair feels like against her bare ass – the thought of her being so bare beneath that shirt makes him crazy. He wants to rip the rest of the fabric away and show her just how impatient he’s gotten. His cock is rock hard beneath the table, begging to be touched.
He needs her so damn much right now. And yet…
She’s clearly not going to make this easy for him.
With a smirk, Aria leans forward again and slowly peruses the chessboard. She takes her sweet time as she does, idling more than necessary over her choice. Her free hand smoothes up her collar and plays with the delicate necklace around her neck, twisting the chain around her finger. It draws Cullen’s attention to her cleavage (again) and he clears his throat as he watches her. It’s a thoughtless action on his part, but it speaks so much of his own frustrating desires.
After several very difficult seconds on Cullen’s part, Aria finally moves her only available rook across the board and murmurs with a gleeful grin, “Check.”
For a moment, Cullen doesn’t even hear her. He’s too distracted by those perfect breasts that he can imagine so vividly, picture them spilling out of her shirt and –
“What?” he splutters, forcing his attention back to the board with a frown. Did she just say - ?
“Check,” Aria repeats with a chuckle, and rests her chin on her palm as she peers at him.
It takes him all of two seconds to see the trap she’s put him in. He puffs out his cheeks and tries to strategize what his next move should be – but it’s so hard to think about all that when he’s so…well, hard. All he can think of is having her naked body beneath his, pinning her down to the mattress, rubbing his cock against her dripping wet folds –
“You’re not conceding, are you?” Aria wonders, playing with a strand of her hair. The words make him bristle with what’s left of his masculine pride. Pride that has taken a distracting downturn.
Maker, he can’t remember ever being so scatterbrained about something he usually finds so simple. He can beat Dorian at chess with his eyes closed, yet the moment Aria takes off the majority of her clothes, he’s done for. It’s not really surprising; just a touch defeating to his normally sharp mind. He’s not the Commander of the Inquisition for nothing, after all.
She’s doing quite a number on him tonight.
With a clenched jaw and fire blazing in his eyes, Cullen glances up at her and growls, “Never.”
If he notices the shiver that drags through her body at the tone of his voice, he doesn’t say. Neither does Aria, but she does do something else.
Something regarding inching her bare foot up his leg from beneath the table.
He’s trying to think, damn it, and she’s got absolutely no qualms now about how clearly she’s trying to distract him.
“Aria – “ he mutters gruffly, catching her foot in his hand before she can make it to her destination. She’s close, inches away from the bulge of his trousers, the hard erection currently spinning his thoughts for a loop.
“Make your move, Commander Cullen,” she purrs, rubbing her foot against his thigh the moment she feels his grip loosen. The movement makes his fingers clench down harder, curling around her bare skin with a strength that is quickly sapping out of him. When he had agreed to this, Cullen hadn’t realized that this would be so difficult.
Still, he can get out of this. He will make her take that shirt off if it’s the last thing he does. And he’d rather do it by proving to himself that he can think strategically and be ridiculously aroused at the same time.
He broods at the chessboard with that familiar determined expression. Aria watches him with sharp eyes. Desire bolts through her with every second that lingers between them. Just the sight of his powerful shoulders, his strong jaw clenched down like that – thinking about the best way to conquer her – makes her squirm against her chair with a breathy sigh.
The noise makes Cullen jerk his head up and stare at her. There is a touch of wilderness to his gaze that hadn’t been there a moment ago, as if he is mere seconds away from crashing into insanity.
Aria chuckles somewhat awkwardly (she actually hadn’t meant to make that sound, or for it to be quite so passionate), and whines, “Please hurry up, Cullen. This game is getting a bit old.”
She wants to get them out of their clothes just as much as he does, after all.
His eyes flash at her for only a moment before he diverts his attention back to the game and finally makes a move.
It’s not a half bad plan, considering his current position, but the best part about it is that he’s found a way to get out of her trap as well as take the rook that had threatened his king. He’s wearing a smug grin when he places the rook on his end of the table and leans back to look at her. His thumb drifts over the bottom of her foot, which is still pressed into his leg. The touch makes her shiver, and the thankful way her expression melts makes his body react similarly.
“Take your shirt off,” he all but growls, looking utterly controlled as he sits there, almost like a king himself.
Aria can’t stand up fast enough, wrangling her foot out of his grip and darting out of her chair. She’s pulling the fabric up and off of her even as she walks around the table to where he sits. By the time she reaches him, Aria is as bare as the day she was born and is sliding into his lap without even a shred of hesitation.
The time for frustrating pauses and conflicting desires is over. Cullen makes that very clear as he shifts his hands from her hips to her breasts and clenches his fingers down around them firmly, mouth tilted up as he seeks hers. She doesn’t waste any time as she leans down and kisses him, completely surrendering her body to him as she does.
Mythal, he tastes so good. After all that waiting, all that planning, it’s delicious to finally feel him against her. She wriggles her hips down into his and gasps at the feeling of his erection brimming against her. He groans when her hips circle him, grinding sinfully down into his erection. They’ve both needed that friction for so long that it makes them melt into each other, fingers flying to touch more, to hold more.
Aria moans breathlessly against him, grasping the sides of his head tightly as her lips tip into. Even beneath her, Cullen commands her every action. Each fluttering desire that ricochets through her is because of him. He makes her crazy.
His hands grip her solidly, drifting from her breasts to her ass. He squeezes the globes of her flesh with tight fingers, spreading her out against his clothed shaft and firmly dragging her down into him. And then in a move that makes her nearly break apart, he dips those fingers into her wet heat and feels her properly.
“Cullen,” she groans, her voice a whimpering mess of ragged desire. She shifts her hips into his fingers and buries her face into his neck, breath spooling out over his skin. Her hands scrabble down his bare chest, over the patter of blond hair that she is always so curiously aware of – she paws at him, wanting nothing more than to rip off the rest of his clothes and see, feel, him as clearly as he does her.
She kisses the side of his neck, nipping at his skin, lifting her mouth to the underside of his jaw. The stubble there makes her shiver. He looks more unkempt than she’s ever seen him. The wild desire in his eyes seems to grow with each passing moment, hurtling into a stark need that presses color into every corner of her world.
Meanwhile, Cullen just sits there, feeling as if he is the luckiest man in Thedas. He had never allowed himself to imagine that he would ever be in such a position as this – that a woman like her would be a whimpering mess in his lap, driven insane merely from the way his fingers work at her and hold her possessively against him. It almost feels divine.
He slips two fingers inside her and Aria nearly screams. She doesn’t – instead, her outcry turns into a muffled wail as his mouth turns down to devour hers. His kiss is as desperate as the way he touches her, as if he cannot get enough of her. As if he doubts he ever will.
“Touch me,” he hears himself order, barely coherent against her mouth. It sounds more like a beg brimming with precarious desire that fluctuates between complete control and no control at all. He’s not sure where he stands. He’s just as glad not to know.
Aria shivers brilliantly at the words though. She can’t act fast enough as her fingers drift down his chest and work at the ties of his trousers, fumbling around her desire even as she dips her hand into the fabric to drag his cock out.
So hard – that’s the first thought that unravels through her head. It’s the last, too.
The moment she’s got her fingers wrapped around his erection, Cullen lets out the most perfect, beautiful moan she’s ever heard and hurtles forward. His body surrounds her, fingers still thrusting into her heat, face buried into her hair as his chin rests at her shoulder. His free hand grips her waist tightly, and every time she pulls her fingers up the length of his cock, he shudders against her like a leaf blowing in the wind.
It’s the most arousing thing she’s ever witnessed, seeing her strong Commander turn into such a frantic, desperate mess.
She still has so much planned.
“Let me reward you for beating me so brilliantly,” she whispers into his ear, giving his cock a gentle squeeze as she near the tip of it. He grips her harder at the move, pulling back to look at her face with a brief expression of confusion. Brief, because Aria is already extricating herself from his hold and slowly lowering herself to her knees in front of him.
Cullen lets out a harsh exhale that speaks volumes about what he’s currently thinking.
“Aria,” he begins, no doubt the start of some heroic speech about how she doesn’t have to do that for him. They’ve been intimate only a handful of times so far and she’s never done this before. But his voice is feeble, weak at even the mere thought of denying her current path. He wants this and she knows it.
“Shh,” she whispers, and her breath blows hotly against his erection. He’s not sure if she means for that to happen or not, but it certainly doesn’t help his self control. Or his willpower.
“Let me pleasure you, Cullen,” she murmurs. Her voice is sin and he the sinner, but he does not stop her from leaning in and taking his tip into her mouth.
Instead, he clenches his jaw and growls, “Maker’s breath,” as he watches her slowly inch her way down his cock.
He takes it back – the sight of her whimpering in his lap is nothing compared to the sight she makes now, lips wrapped around his length and eyes peering up at him with mischief intent. Perhaps her voice is not sin; perhaps the entirety of her is.
He exhales loudly when she wraps her hand around the base of his cock and starts to gently thrust it in and out of her mouth. His fingers act of their own accord as they spin through her hair, pushing it out of her face so he can see her, watch her, imprint this moment into his memory. He hopes he never forgets it.
She either knows exactly what she’s doing or she’s as quick a study in the bedroom as she is on the battlefield, because she moves with a confidence he finds entirely addicting. Her tongue slips over the underside of his cock with practiced movements, rubbing pleasure into him even as her lips suck and her fingers pump. She moves fast enough to just barely give him the gratification he so desperately needs, yet her progress is speckled with slow teasing strokes that have him gritting his teeth in frustration at the same time.
It’s entirely possessive, this need for more. More of her touch and her moans and just her.
He knows he’s not going to last long if she keeps this up, especially when she – does that thing with her tongue –
“Aria,” Cullen groans, jaw clenched and hands fisted in her hair as he stares down at her. The way she drags her tongue over his tip and then gives it a generous suck has him seeing stars, and all the chantry verses he holds in such high regard seem utterly inconsequential and even downright monotonous in the face of her loveliness.
His thoughts are beginning to verge on blasphemous when he slowly grapples with the sides of her head and stops her from coming back down on him. His cock pokes at the side of her mouth as Aria blinks up at him questioningly, and he’d like nothing more than to shove it back inside her mouth and –
But no, get a grip on yourself, Cullen – he needs to calm down if he wants to take this tidal wave of pleasure and turn it on her.
(He doesn’t want a repeat of their first time, that embarrassing moment in which he had allowed her to drive him so crazy that he’d spilled himself much too soon. She had smiled at him when he did, as if she’d been proud to make him want her so much that he, a mature and practiced man, could forget himself so easily. The sight of her pride had only helped his embarrassment marginally though.)
“One of these days I’m going to make you come like this,” Aria murmurs, knowing that he is trying to get her to stop before such an end can occur. Her words leave him feeling dry and burned with unquenchable lust.
Cullen growls and says, “Not tonight. I want – need – “
He trails off because he doesn’t know how to put his needs into words. How do you verbalize something you can barely understand? Describe something that is too fleeting to hold onto?
Aria kisses his still clothed thigh (she really has to do something about that) and slowly crawls back into his lap. Her fingers push his hair back from his forehead, setting it right as her thumbs brush over his cheekbones and the edges of his eyes. In a soft voice, she asks, “What do you need, Cullen?”
Her voice sounds like acceptance and he pulls her closer.
Then he’s suddenly standing, heaving her against him and chuckling lowly when Aria gasps and scrambles for a hold, fingers delving against his shoulders. His hands grip her ass tightly, keeping her solid and grounded against his body. At least for the duration of the time it takes to reach her bed.
Five paces. And in the midst of all that arousing domination, Cullen breathes into her ear, “You. I need you. I need to feel you around my – “
His words break off when he accidentally drops Aria onto the mattress a little more roughly than he’d originally planned. It doesn’t seem to matter though. She propels herself back up with wide, passionate eyes that seem almost black with all her desires, and Cullen has a feeling that he’s just stumbled upon some very useful knowledge for future situations with her. That she appears to like dirty talk is very fascinating indeed, and he smirks down at her.
Aria reaches for him. He doesn’t quite expect what she reaches for, though.
Her hands grasp his cock again and with a purr, she murmurs, “Come here, Commander.”
The shiver that bursts through him then is so powerful he thinks he might fall.
It takes him all of three seconds to shuck the rest of his trousers off and kick them away. Then when he is finally as bare as she is, Cullen props a knee on the mattress between her legs and leans forward. Aria drags him closer as she throws her arms around his neck and pulls, and they end up falling together onto the bed with subtle laughs full of surprised passion and comfortable arousal.
She hooks a leg around his waist, drags his hips down firmly against hers, and that comfortable arousal immediately shifts to the burning cacophony of lust in less than a moment.
He groans into his neck, hips thrusting of their own accord. His cock grinds down against her folds and it is such delicious agony that he groans again. She arches up into him, an expression of frantic desire etched thoroughly across her face, and pulls his length to her entrance with impatient fingers.
Who is he to ignore such an obvious order from his Inquisitor? He slides in without pause, grateful that her impatience matches his own. His thrust is powerful and complete as he seats himself deep inside her in one swift move, and Aria is immediately mewling at the rough-but-perfect way he handles her. Gone is the shy Commander who had been so careful with her on their first night together. In his place is a man filled with a lust so extraordinary that it sheds away any lingering traces of hesitation.
“Maker – “ he chokes, and thrusts down again, hips shattering against hers even as his voice grinds into a low groan. He buries his face against her cheek, eyes fluttering between open and closed. He is too caught up in the blatant relief of being inside her to know whether he wants to watch her unravel or simply lose himself as solidly within this moment as he possibly can.
And yet, even as his thrusts turn into erratic pulls, Cullen somehow manages to retain a part of himself as he strains to ask, “…Hurting you?” He can’t even bring himself to say a full sentence, but Aria understands the question.
Her mouth upturns as she stares at the ceiling, lowering her gaze to the sight of his body moving above hers. His skin is a glorious golden glow in the firelight, and his muscular form seems starker than usual from the dip of shadows along his flexed arms and back. She threads her fingers through his, for once, unkempt hair and turns her head into his, whispering, “Just keep – ah, keep fucking me, Commander.”
Cullen immediately lets lose a strained moan that sounds absolutely sinful falling from his lips, and he lifts his head to look down at her. His eyes are a quilted mess of barely coherent desire and what looks like amazement. When it comes to her, he always finds himself amazed.
“Yeah?” he asks, merely because he wants to hear her voice again – wants to wallow in the desperate plea that strikes through it. His hips turn down into a thrust that’s almost bruising in its force and he watches her face crumble into an expression he hopes he never forgets.
(Maker, let him never forget.)
Aria cries out when he does it again, her fingers turning into talons as she grips his shoulders tightly. Her torso strains up as if she’s writhing – body shifting into beautiful mess that has Cullen angling his hips down to grind into her faster.
When she sobs, “Cullen - ar halam, ma sa’lath!”  in her native tongue, Cullen utterly loses it.
“Aria – “ he gasps, eyes shutting tight as his hips take off into a pace that he can neither control nor stop. He is detached, it seems, from his own power. He can only barrel forward into her and hope that she comes before he does.
She breaks off into more lilted Elvish, which drives him even crazier, if possible. She doesn’t even seem aware of it – neither the language switch nor Cullen’s reaction to it – she is utterly consumed by her own finish as it rattles through her, pushing her past breaking point and shattering her right there in his arms.
She fluctuates around him as if she’s unconsciously trying to keep him within her, pulling him back every time he pulls away. Cullen can’t get back inside her fast enough – his hips propel him forward of their own accord, and soon his desire is tangled with hers to such a degree that he doubts he’ll ever be able to unwind himself.
He doesn’t want to anyway, and with a satisfied groan that fills the room like a heavenly chorus shining down its light, Cullen falls over the edge and spills himself inside her. He keeps thrusting until Aria is a boneless mess beneath him, and then lowers himself down to her side. They lay there beside each other for several long seconds that are peppered with the sounds of their panting exhales.
Then – Cullen mutters, “Maker…I forgot – I mean, I’ll have to ask Adan for a potion for you.” He runs a hand through his hair as he rolls onto his back and looks up at the ceiling.
Aria chuckles and turns her head to watch him. “You are aware that going yourself would basically air all our dirty laundry, right? I thought you wanted to keep this between us.”
He had. He does. He remembers having that very same conversation after their first night together. Aria had understood and even agreed that it would be best to keep things under wraps for now, at least until the Halamshiral Ball is dealt with.
Cullen’s mouth tilts up in amusement. He catches her eye and murmurs, “After the noises you’ve just made, I doubt there’s anyone in Skyhold that doesn’t know about us. Besides, Dorian can’t keep a secret to save his damned life.”
The last bit is grumbled, but she still hears him and laughs, nudging her leg against his with a smirk. Cullen’s response is to grab said leg and pull it over the both of his own, curling her up against him at the same time.
Aria snuggles down into his chest with a pleased sigh as Cullen’s fingers begin to thread their way through her hair. “Well you’d better get me a few potions rather than just one.” Then she falls silent, waiting for him to say…
“They go bad after a day or two,” he replies with a confused frown, looking down at the top of her head. “And you only need one for each…uh, act.”
Aria dissolves into giggles at his awkward phrasing. He joins in after a moment and squeezes her tighter against him. After a moment, she rises up onto her elbows to blink down at him with a grin that teeters on the sinful side, and he finds himself swallowing at the sight of it.
“…Exactly,” she purrs as she lowers her mouth down to his. She cups his face, pulls her fingers over the scruff on his jaw, and as she leans in to kiss him she breathes, “I don’t plan on leaving this bed any time soon, Cullen.”
This time, he does swallow, and quickly murmurs, “You know I can’t stay here forever – I have work to – “
She kisses him to shut him up and he lets out a soft groan as her body comes to rest against the length of his own. What had he been trying to say? He doesn’t remember. Doesn’t care, either. Instead, Cullen merely rolls her gently onto her back to kiss her properly.
At this moment, Cullen doesn’t care if the entire world knows about them.
 Ar halam, ma sa’lath … Finish/end me, my love