Dragon Age One Shots

Old Times, Cullen X Inquisitor

Cullen registers a knock at the door and replies without his brain getting involved. Maker save him, but he's invested in finishing this damn paperwork. Whoever wants him can wait, or drop off the latest necessities upon the chair.

He leans tighter, weary eyes trying to pierce the warbling lines on the scroll, when his name punctures the air. "Cullen," she coos, scattering the quill from his fingers. He may not know much when it comes to matters of the heart, but he knows that voice. The breathy words, the strumming of the two syllables in his name, the purr in her throat that's aching for his attention.

Guilty, he glances up to the woman he callously ignored, and his jaw hits his desk. She leans against the doorframe, the Inquisitor leathers abandoned for a high-necked robe sewn to her body. A familiar corset is knotted around her waist, lifting her breasts with the nipples easily straining against the skin-tight robe.

"Th...that's a-a..." his lips stutter as he pieces together the entire outfit. Circle robes. Old circle robes from a decade past. When Cullen was covered in spots, wore wild hair and couldn't glance in the direction of a girl without blushing.

The familiar burn rises in his cheeks as the Inquisitor glides closer. Gulping, his eyes dart down, his fingers trying to wring the back of his neck. "How-d...d...did you find those?"

"Are you stuttering?" she asks with a laugh.

"N...n...no," he curses at himself, wishing he could slap sense into him. He is no longer some 18-year-old imbecile. He is an adult, he has seen the worst of thedas, and... Cullen's eyes raise from his desk to the beautiful woman sliding toward him.

Her fingers cup his cheek, ruffling the scruff he'd never have grown back in that Circle. "It's adorable," she whispers, tugging his rambling lips to hers. As her heat and assurance wash over him, Cullen envelops his arms around her. Tucking her body tight to his, he revels in the kiss heating through his body, the sweet taste of her wafting against his lips and tongue.

As she pulls back for a breath, her eyes sparkle up at him. Cullen smiles, his scar rising. Without a second's pause, he hauls her up over his shoulder, a hand wrapped around that fetish-forming corset.

"Woah!" she cries in surprise, her feet waving as he balances upon his stature. "What are you doing?"

Cullen kicks open his door. "Finding a roof."

Her giggles reverberate in his ear, even as her hands scoop down to grab his ass. "Why?"

Because in all of his fantasies, in all of his dreams of a pretty mage kissing him, taking his hand, wanting him, there was always a roof. The woman who went to the trouble to try and replicate his foolish whispers turned to look at him. Cullen didn't fumble; the young man he'd once been banished to the recesses of his memory. With a smile forged in fire and trust, he said, "Because you are enchanting by moonlight."