Dragon Age One Shots

Birthday Cake, Cullen/Inquisitor

It's my birthday so I got you all a gift! When the birthday girl discovers her birthday cake has her name spelled wrong she gets an extra special surprise -- Cullen in a tiny apron sent to fix it. Lots of sexy shenanigans occur.

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This wasn't right.

I pursed my lips, my eyes circling back and forth over the bright pink frosting. No matter how many times I read it, the letters didn't change. My name was misspelled.

Every year on my birthday, I'd order a cake for myself — the most expensive one from my favorite bakery. But after Mrs. Nutters closed, I was stuck this year with a new baker and a cake for someone else.

Not that it mattered really. My plans were to take it home, cut out the biggest piece, and eat it alone.

Just, forget it. Pay for the thing and...

"Is something the matter?" the new grandmotherly lady working the register asked me.

She must have read the massive flinch in my eyebrows. I was midway swinging my purse around to pay for it when she asked. "It's only that...well, my name is wrong. But it's no big—"

"Oh, so sorry, Dear," she cooed to me. "We'll fix that right up."

"Really, I can...I can move that 'a' around, and maybe add an 'i' with the leftover—"

"Cullen!" the cake queen shouted, spinning away from the counter with the cake I should have just paid for without looking at it.

"Ma'am," I tried to reach out to stop her, "it's no trouble. I...I'll..."

I expected a gray-haired grandfather to stroll out, bifocals clinging to the tip of his nose as he inspected the cake's inscription. When a six-foot-tall man with shoulders as wide as the door dressed in a pink apron approached, my jaw struck the sprinkled tiles.

The gorgeous man with a tempting scar rising along with his lips wiped his hands off on a towel and turned to my miscreant cake. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Had a bit of a goof up," the old lady said, showing him first the inscription, then pointing at me.

Heat throbbed on my cheeks as the man's sharp eyes focused upon only me. No one else was in the tiny bakery to snag his attention. Holy hell, those arms!

Each bicep hardened to chiseled rock, the veins rising as he took the tiny cake in his wide hands. Those cannons were on full display because he wore a small white tank top under the pink apron. My eyes drifted from his chiseled shoulders down to the wrists. Strong, hard-edged wrists attached to long palms which could easily pin both my hands together in one.

The blush burned hotter as the fire dripped down my throat, my gaze trying to look anywhere decent while those deadly arms flashed before me.

"Don't worry, Dear," a voice cut through my death blushing. It was the kindly old lady, her paper-thin hand patting me on the shoulder. "He'll get it all fixed up."

"Oh...okay," I nodded, meeting the amused smile of the gorgeous baker who had to deal with me.

He balanced the cake in one hand, lifting it up the way a fancy waiter would his tray, while those burning umber eyes cut through me. Bouncing on his heels, he weaved closer, and asked, "How about you come back with me?"

"What?" I squeaked. Trapped in a tiny room with a man who looked like he could power an entire galaxy on his hotness alone? I couldn't. I shouldn't...

His striking whiskey gaze danced down me before bobbing back up. "You can make certain I get it right."

"That..." My head bobbed, my voice frozen as I nodded along. "Okay. I can."