HEADS UP: THIS IS 100% NSFW

For Cullenites Prompt Week!

“ Lavellan has to visit a noble (notorious for being a handsome womanizer) for a few days to get an important contract to improve the Inquisition’s forces in some way.

Which is why Cullen has to go with her.

Little does Cullen know that Josephine has told Lavellan to not completely shut down the noble’s advances or to upset him.

Cullen and Lavellan are both in love with each other, but both think the other isn’t interested at all.”

~~~~~~~~

“You’re… not serious. Are you?”

Inquisitor Shivanas Lavellan was not the sort of woman who balked in fear at just anything. After all, she’d only recently faced a darkspawn-who-would-be-God and a maybe-Archdemon at the same time and survived it, against all odds. Cassandra had been right. She had a strange kind of luck – the kind where one is never sure if one needs more or less of it.

Still, balk she did when her head diplomat, Josephine, explained to her exactly what she needed to do in order to secure the weapons the Inquisition needed to recover from the attack. After what had happened at Haven, and after the near-miracle of Shivanas’ return, the fledgling organization was certainly not wanting for people. More were arriving every day to pledge themselves to the Inquisition’s banner. No, what they needed was supplies: food, sundries and, perhaps most importantly, weapons.

Which was where Lord Gavrin Tremont came in. According to apparently everyone, Tremont steel was exceptional. No one had quite been able to explain properly why it was so – most people admitted they had no idea what made it so unique, and Arcanist Dagna had tried, but sounded to Shivanas like she was speaking another language. Not even the poor blacksmith had been able to keep up with that girl when she got excited about something, and apparently Tremont steel was worth getting excited about. As far as Shivanas understood, some sort of unique properties inherent in the local iron made the steel coming out of Tremont smithies sharper and stronger than any other in all of Thedas. The dwarves liked to claim their steel is stronger, but Dagna suggested that dwarven smiths working Tremont steel would produce weapons and armor of quality above any available to any large force in the world. So it was decided; the Inquisition needed to convince Lord Gavrin to supply the Inquisition with large quantities of raw steel. And apparently Josephine had… thoughts on how best to do that.

“I’m quite serious, Inquisitor.” Josephine seemed distracted as the two women walked down the hall from the war room toward her office.

“I can’t do that!” They came to a stop next to Josephine’s desk, making the diplomat draw up short and actually look up from her notes to see the clear distress on the small elf’s face. She frowned – she hadn’t meant for her suggestion to cause the Inquisitor stress.

“Why not? It’s not so difficult. Just smile and nod, and he’ll do the rest.”

Shivanas made a small noise, almost a sound of panic. “I can’t! Creators, I still don’t fully understand how to interact with you shemlen in normal conversation and you want me to flirt with an Orlesian lord?!” She raked her fingers through her fiery red hair, cursing under her breath when she accidentally caught her braid in her fingers.

Josephine looked truly surprised. Shivanas was so often the very face of courage that she sometimes forgot that the woman was even capable of feeling fear. It seemed utterly alien that someone who could face down a dragon without breaking a sweat would be so stricken with fear at the idea of allowing a man compliment her a few times. She sighed, placing her papers on the desk behind her and pressing a comforting hand to the Inquisitor’s shoulder.

Shivanas startled at the touch – she had always known Josephine to be incredibly friendly and sweet, but she had also always known her to maintain a strict respect for decorum. A casual touch like this was not something that she had expected, but she found it remarkably comforting. At least it was a sign that Josephine didn’t want her to feel so afraid.

“You needn’t do anything in particular, Lady Lavellan.” Josephine’s voice was soft and gentle, reassuring to Shivanas in a way she hadn’t expected. It was times like this that reminded her why she counted Josephine among the few true friends she had in Skyhold. “Lord Gavrin fancies himself irresistible, and not without reason. So long as you do not actively rebuff him, he will assume you enjoy his flirting. If you cannot actively return it, it’s no matter. He will likely simply believe you are being coy. Just allow him the fantasy for the duration of your stay. Don’t worry yourself so much over it. You will be just fine.”

Shivanas took a deep breath, calming her erratic heart. “I… But Josephine… He’s a noble lord. What makes you think he’ll even be interested enough in me to want to flirt in the first place?”

Josephine’s lips parted in surprise. That had not been something she had expected to hear out of the Inquisitor’s mouth. She looked down at Shivanas, taking in her fine features, her wide green eyes, the faint spray of freckles over her button nose and under the intriguing lines of the vallaslin tattoos that marked her as Dalish. “Have you truly no idea how beautiful you are?” The words came out before she could stop them, and both women blushed faintly at the sentiment. Josephine dipped her head sheepishly. “I apologize, Inquisitor. That was inappropriate. Though, it is true.”

Shivanas couldn’t hold in the embarrassed little grin that was beginning to spread over her face. Contrary to what Josephine seemed to think, the comment hadn’t actually made her uncomfortable. The little jokes between her and Leliana had been difficult to ignore – it was quite clear, and had been for a while, that Josephine had at least some interest in women, so that aspect of the comment hadn’t come as a surprise. And there was something about the way she’d said it that made Shivanas think it wasn’t the result of Josephine’s particular interest in her; rather, she’d said it as more a statement of fact, the way she would observe that a woman’s dress was particularly lovely, or that she had a particular grace for dancing.

As it happened, the answer to her question was no, Shivanas had no idea how lovely she was. Standards of beauty differed among cultures, and the Dalish were no different. They valued physicality, strength, and a stoic nature. Shivanas had always been pale, preferring to study her magic in the shade of the aravels. She was strong, for a mage, as required by life as a nomad, but not half as strong as the hunters. That she was short, even for an elf, made it worse – a small body meant even less strength, less speed. And she had an easy laugh – it made it easier to face the darkness and to remember why life was worth something. It was one of the reasons she and Dorian got along so well; both of them sarcastic outsiders in an organization fundamentally foreign to both of them. She had a pleasant enough face, but as far as her clan had been concerned, that had simply been the only thing saving her from being truly ugly. The concept of being desirable was somewhat… unexpected, to say the least.

Shivanas offered a quick laugh. “Really? You shemlen have a strange idea of beauty.”

~~~~~~~

Two things had gone through Shivanas’ mind at the news that Cullen would be accompanying her.

First, a jolt of pleasure. She had long ago abandoned the idea of pretending that she didn’t care deeply for him. It had been clear since early in Haven that she enjoyed his company. It was him that she’d gone to after the terror of the future she’d been sent into by Alexius. It was he who had supported her back to Haven after her legs had given out after closing the breach. His voice had been the first she’d heard after collapsing in the snow, trying to find the survivors after the destruction of Haven. His touch had been the one that had drawn her back from the cold abyss after she’d given up, lying in the freezing snow, awaiting a death that felt so bittersweetly inevitable. More than once, they’d wandered off from the training grounds, lost in conversation, whether about her clan, or about Templar vows, or even about the weather. And, of course, looking at him made her stomach explode into butterflies. His smile. The warmth in his eyes whenever he looked at her, made all the more precious when she knew the deep scars he bore from his past. Even just the way he held himself, all of him seemed Creator-forged to call to her.

She knew he didn’t feel the same way she did, which was probably for the best. After all, even Shivanas, foreign to shemlen culture as she was, knew that it would be considered inappropriate at the least for the Herald of Andraste to have a relationship with the commander of her forces. They spoke, sometimes, and she cherished any opportunity to have a proper conversation with him, because more often than not these days, he would be drawn away by his duties before they could speak at any length. A gentle apology, and an explanation that he had work to do… She knew a gentle rebuff when she saw one. Still, the thought of having a trip like this, alone with him, thrilled her. With no work to distract them, they could finish all the conversations left hanging by a report from Leliana, or a question from one of the soldiers.

Of course, a moment after that particular though, she realized, with growing horror, that this meant he’d be there with Lord Gavrin. Watching him flirt with her. Watching her sad, sorry attempts to flirt back. She had to do it; she couldn’t risk the Inquisition’s deal. But Creators, did she ever hate the idea of making Cullen watch her flirt with another man! It didn’t matter that Cullen wouldn’t care – she did! She very nearly decided, then and there, that she couldn’t do it, that she needed to keep this meeting purely professional, but halfway to Josephine’s office, she’d balked at that too, because that would mean admitting her ill-advised feelings for the commander to someone, and that was nearly as terrifying.

And that was how Lady Lavellan found herself riding horseback with Cullen up a forest path towards the rather imposing facade of Chateau Tremont, dressed in a set of robes chosen for her by Leliana with the express purpose of drawing Lord Gavrin’s attentions. Theywere, admittedly, beautiful robes. They were made of silk brocade and royale sea silk, neither of which Shivanas had even heard of but which both Leliana and Josephine assured her were the finest materials available on such short notice. Both of them gushed about how well the colour matched her eyes, which seemed like a good thing, by their reactions. The silhouette of the robe was quite flattering, even Shivanas herself had to admit. The problem was the neckline. It plunged dangerously low, and even a woman of somewhat insubstantial chest size, such as the petite Inquisitor, would reasonably fear falling out of it. Frankly, she’d been shocked that Josephine hadn’t declared it absolutely tasteless, but instead, she’d called it daring and declared it perfect, much to Shivanas’ great disappointment. And that didn’t even consider the fact that the robe’s skirt was slit up both sides which, normally, was something Shivanas appreciated for the movement it offered, but this particular cut seemed designed to show off scandalous expanses of her thigh. She couldn’t understand how this wasn’t too much. How would a man of taste and class like the Lord of Tremont not recognize this for what Shivanas felt was a plainly obvious attempt at seduction? She couldn’t even bring herself to look at Cullen; she didn’t want to know what he thought of her, selling herself like this.

Cullen, however, was thinking nothing of the sort. For the first half of the ride, he’d struggled valiantly to avoid staring at her. Halfway through the trip, he’d realized that she seemed like her gaze was going to stay fixed to the mane of her horse for the entire ride and, upon realizing that it meant she was very unlike to notice his gaze, he couldn’t stop himself from staring the rest of the way.

He’d always found the Inquisitor to be a beautiful woman. It had always been a struggle not to stare, but it seemed the spymaster and diplomat had conjured this particular outfit out of the Fade itself with the express purpose of tempting him. She was a vision, the perfect combination of beauty and strength. Most men would find themselves drawn in by the deep cut of exposed skin of her chest, a daring stretch of creamy smooth flesh dipping down between her breasts… and Cullen would be lying if he suggested that it did not entrance him. But it was the low-slung back that he found his wandering eyes returning to, again and again: the subtle twist of her spine and the roll of her hips with each step her mare took, the shifting of the muscles under her skin, even the shining white, slightly puckered skin of the scar that traced a meandering path across her lower back. His hands itched to reach out and trace her spine and then spread his fingers across the small of her back – he was certain just one of his hands could span the entire width at the narrowest part of her waist.

His mind was a mess of fantasies – of slipping his hands up the slits in her robe to grasp her thighs and hips, of leaving a hot trail of kisses up from the base of her temptingly exposed sternum, up her neck and to that lovely, pink mouth… Cullen cursed at himself. He’d fantasized about her before, but rarely so overtly, and never without guilt. She deserved more respect than to have him think of her the way a horny teenage boy thinks of the local beauty. She was the Herald of Andraste, for the Maker’s sake. Shouldn’t that make her somehow untouchable to him? He should feel unworthy!

But he didn’t. She was a woman, like any other, and he knew that more intimately than almost anyone else. She knew that others looked up to her as a new Prophet of the Maker, that they believe her to be destined to save them, placed on this earth by the Maker himself. To them, she was infallible. But not to him. She had needed someone to lean on, someone with whom she could share her secret fears and her moments of weakness… and she had chosen him. Few others recognized her as a woman instead of a symbol or an idea. That she seemed to want him to see her that way was humbling and warmed his heart in a way he wasn’t sure he had ever truly experienced before. It felt natural, then, for him to care for her as deeply as he did. Perhaps even love her, though he scarce thought the word to himself, never mind say it aloud to anyone.

He had approached this trip with both excitement and trepidation. He couldn’t have known that she missed their hours long conversations as much as he did. Back in Haven, it had been easy to leave the soldiers to their drills and wander off a little ways, to the edge of the frozen lake. Often, he’d explained to her the customs and practices of human organizations. He explained the Chantry and Templars. Sometimes, she told him about the Dalish – it was those conversations he treasured the most. Anything to catch a glimpse into her enigmatic past. But since moving to Skyhold, the conversations had moved into his office. Somehow, he found the privacy weighed heavily on him. In Haven, he’d had fleeting thoughts, fantasies about catching her hand in his, feeling her skin, or kissing those soft-looking lips. They had been easy to toss aside, knowing the troops were just up the hill within sight, and that Cassandra was watching them from the military tents. In his office, it had been… more difficult. Without anyone watching, it had been much, much harder to convince himself it was a bad idea to touch her. Once, he had lifted his hand to brush a strand of hair away from her face – an utterly inappropriate affection, without a doubt – and had only just managed to redirect the motion to take a book off his shelf at the last moment. She’d blushed, and he knew she knew what he had almost done, and he knew he had to stop it from happening. So he had started sending her away. As much as he cared for her, as much as he might have wanted to be with her, he couldn’t imagine she would feel the same for him. He was a broken old Templar who didn’t even deserve her trust, never mind her love. He had the former, for now, and he would have to be content with that. It was more than he deserved.

The forest broke before them, drawing both Cullen and Lavellan out of their reveries. Before them lay the mountain fortress of Tremont. It was enormous, easily rivaling Skyhold in size, though not quite as defensible. It was a mine and smithy, rather than a military installation, and the building spoke more of wealth and opulence than of strategic prowess. The huge gate was flanked by two enormous marble lions, and there were dozens of brightly coloured banners threaded with gold, fluttering in the wind hanging from the walls.

“Creators,” Shivanas breathed, not even really intending to say it out loud. She sounded unhappy, and she was; the place stank of wealth in a way she had never seen in her life before. She had imagined the opulence of the Winter Palace but, in her mind’s eye, she saw it as more tasteful than this. Tremont was simply garish. But maybe she would find all Orlesian wealth to be so.

Cullen caught her gaze and cracked a small smile – it was a relief to know he wasn’t the only one who found it to be a bit… much.

A moment later, a man strode out of the gate, flanked by two elven servants. He smiled as he approached, opening his arms in a gesture of welcome. “Ah! You must be Lady Lavellan and Commander Cullen!”

He was startlingly handsome, and suddenly Shivanas was aware of why Josephine had told her that he had reason to believe his interest would be returned. Dark of eye and hair, he bore the quiet confidence of a man who always got what he wanted. He’d been blessed by his parents as well, it seemed – sparkling eyes, a chiseled jaw, broad in the shoulders and chest. From the shape of him, and form the way he moved, he was a fit man, athletic and in the prime of his life. To call him handsome would have been something of an understatement.

He approached while Shivanas and Cullen dismounted, and the moment they were off, the elves took the reins of the horses while he gently seized Shivanas’ hand, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “When I heard the Herald of Andraste was coming to visit, I could not have imagined she might rival the Maker’s Bride in beauty.” He straightened, a playful smirk on his lips. “I apologize, I suppose that must sound like heresy, but I cannot imagine the Maker would truly fault me for speaking the truth.”

Shivanas couldn’t help the blush that rose on her cheeks. She was unaccustomed to compliments of any kind, never mind such poetry. She opened her mouth to respond, only to find that she couldn’t find the words, and a bashful little giggle escaped her throat. “Th-thank you. You must be Lord Gavrin.”

He smiled easily, releasing her hand. “Ah, I see my reputation precedes me. Come, let’s get you inside. You must be exhausted from all that traveling.” He took her arm, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to touch her so casually, and led her into the castle.

Which left Cullen trailing after them, his jaw set in a grim line and a little ball of jealousy already knotting under his breastbone. What right did he have to be jealous? Shivanas deserved a little happiness, and it certainly wasn’t as though he had any real claim to her affections, as much as he might have wished otherwise.

They made it to the front hall, with Shivanas laughing at some joke or another that Gavrin had made, making Cullen clench his jaw so hard he was making his teeth hurt, when Gavrin stopped abruptly, releasing the Inquisitor, and turned to face Cullen with an apologetic smile. “But where are my manners! You really must excuse me, commander. I cannot offer any explanation for my rudeness but the absolute beauty of your Inquisitor. To be in the presence of such radiance all the time! You are a man to be envied, to be certain.” He smiled pleasantly, offering his hand to Cullen to shake.

Cullen gave him a tight smile back, and it took all of his will not to crush the man’s hand when he shook it. His gaze shifted, for a moment, over Gavrin’s shoulder to Lavellan, where she stood with her hand pressed over her mouth to contain some lingering amusement, a blush colouring her cheeks under the markings of her vallaslin. His heart twisted in his chest. He hadn’t touched her in all the months he’d known her half as much as Lord Gavrin had in the last five minutes, and Maker, did he ever regret it now. He wanted nothing more than to put himself between them, to gather her up into his arms again, the way he had that night after Haven was attacked, and to press his lips over every inch of skin that Gavrin had touched, to erased the lord’s mark on her and mark her again as his own. He had to forcibly remind himself that she hadn’t, in fact, ever actually been his to begin with.

Instead, he just smiled and released Gavrin’s hand. “No need to apologize.” He was surprised at how level his voice sounded, given how drastic a lie it was.

Shivanas supposed she shouldn’t have let it sting. Cullen had never given her any reason to believe he was interested. He’d never been cruel enough to lead her on in any manner. She should not have expected jealousy, and yet his words stung nonetheless. What else had she expected him to say? That Lord Gavrin was being too forward with her? She didn’t even know if that was true. Maybe all nobility are this touchy with each other. Granted, she would have expected Josephine’s attention to decorum would have manifested differently were that the case, but that didn’t mean anything. Shemlen culture, especially that of the nobility, was baffling to her sometimes. Maybe there was room for both Josephine’s respectful distance and Gavrin’s flirty affections.

Gavrin, for his part, seemed blissfully unaware of the tumult in the heads and hearts of both of his guests. He simply smiled and clapped his hands once, drawing two more servants out of the corners of the room. “Well then! I will have my servants show you to your rooms. I imagine you both would like a rest after your long journey.” He turned to Shivanas, smiling brightly. “Perhaps, if you are feeling up to it, you would be willing to join me for dinner?”

Make him happy, Shivanas reminded herself, trying not to be too disappointed by the idea that she wouldn’t have much of a moment alone to talk to Cullen this evening. This wasn’t a vacation, after all. Besides, it wasn’t as though she didn’t enjoy Gavrin’s company. “I would love to. Thank you, my Lord.”

~~~~~~~

Cullen felt like a caged animal. Shivanas was only the next room over, and he wanted desperately to go speak with her, to remind himself of the connection they had. Gavrin couldn’t take that from him. Cullen and the Inquisitor had been through too much together for his pretty words and charming smile to even hold a candle to the depth of friendship that he shared with Shivanas.

But that was the problem. It was a friendship. It wasn’t that he didn’t value that friendship – quite the contrary. It was that he wanted more. His feelings for her were so, so much more than the shallow attraction Gavrin displayed. She deserved more than a man whose interest was based solely on gossip and physical beauty. So why was it that Gavrin got to touch her so casually, got to hear that lovely, musical laugh, got to spend his time with her this evening?!

Cullen bit back a roar of frustration and nearly smashed his hand down onto the vanity in his quarters before he managed to regain control of himself. Damaging the man’s property wasn’t going to help – it would really only serve as an example of just how unworthy of her he was.

It wasn’t was though he had any right to be jealous. He certainly didn’t have any claim to her, as much as he wanted one. She deserved to be happy, and who was he to deny her an evening of pleasure with another man simply because Cullen didn’t think he deserved her? Maybe she didn’t want anything more than a shallow flirt, and why should she? Gavrin was easy company. He seemed to make her laugh, and he was certain to cause her less stress than Cullen. He was a lord, with charm and an easy life. Why shouldn’t she want him instead of a broken addict who could sometimes barely even keep his head on straight?

But that was it, wasn’t it? He needed her. Desperately. Far more than he wanted to admit. When the lyrium cravings got bad, when they were painful enough to drive him to the philter hidden in his office, it was her who drew him back out. Not directly, of course. He wouldn’t be able to stand the thought of her seeing him in those moments of weakness, where he wasn’t worthy of his position in the Inquisition, much less her affection. It was the thought of her. Her strength, her smile, her compassion. Would it still be enough, if his image of her changed to that of her finding comfort in the arms of another man? He knew that wouldn’t pull him back out of the darkness. Worse, it would likely drive him to it even faster.

He could never tell her. It would be incredibly unfair, to place that burden upon her. Not to mention the fact that she could never be comfortable around him again after an admission like that.

The sound of a knock at his door made him jerk in surprise. He looked up from where he was seated on the end of his bed and heard the sound of Shivanas’ voice drifting through the wood.

“Cullen?” The door cracked open, and she peered in.

His heart jumped into his throat. As stunning as she’d been this afternoon, the sight of her standing at his door in a house-robe, her hair still wet from a recent bath, stole his breath away. It hearkened back to his many fantasies of waking up next to her, or of crawling into bed with her after a bath. It made him think of those stolen, domestic moments that came of being in love with someone, of being a part of their everyday life. And, of course, the moments that would precede these, of the sheets tangled around them while he thrust into her the night before, or of her keening moans as his hands explored her body in the bath together…

He blushed, choking. What in the Maker’s name was he thinking, fantasizing like that about her while she was standing right in front of him?!

Shivanas’ brow furrowed at the sight of his face reddening abruptly, and she pushed the door open a little wider, stepping into his room. “Are you alright?”

Clearing his throat, Cullen straightened and nodded. “I’m, ahem, I’m fine. Is there something you need, Inquisitor?”

Shivanas frowned. She didn’t know what had happened. He used to be so much less formal with her, but since moving to Skyhold, he had insisted on using her title. It felt like he was trying to distance himself from her, and she didn’t want that. “Please, Cullen. I use your first name, on your own insistence. Why won’t you use mine?”

Cullen’s eyes slipped shut and he groaned. This again? She loved to make it difficult for him to keep his feelings for her at bay. Sometimes he wished he could tell her how he felt, simply so she would stop torturing him so with innocent questions like this. He hadn’t even called her Lavellan since they’d left Haven, and he knew he was being childish, but he needed something to stop himself from falling even more in love with her. He needed this distance. And that was when the ugly thought occurred to him: Gavrin had called her Lady Lavellan today. And from the way he was acting, it would only be a matter of time before he dropped even that formality and started simply calling her Shivanas. “Because, Herald, you’re… you’re important.” He glowered down at the floor between his feet. That was a stupid excuse, and they both knew it. He was usually better at this.

Shivanas crossed her arms, looking amused. “So are you. Do you really want me to start calling you Commander?”

“Maybe that would be best.” He hadn’t really considered how the words would sound before they came out. He’d been too distracted by the thought of what Gavrin’s voice would sound like, using her first name. That little knot of jealousy under his breastbone was growing, making his heart beat painfully hard against his ribs.

“Well. I apologize for interrupting you, Commander. I shall not invade your privacy again.” Her tone was short, clipped. He’d hurt her, that much was clear from her voice.

When he looked up again, her spine had straightened and her lips were pressed tightly together. Her gaze was trained firmly on the window across the room, as if she couldn’t bear to even look at him. Her mouth twisted into a grimace, an ugly expression, and she started to close the door.

Cullen pushed himself to his feet, the knot of jealousy falling like a stone into the pit of his stomach. “Wait, Herald, I…”

She slammed the door in his face.

~~~~~~~

If Gavrin thought Shivanas made bad company with a dark cloud gathered over her head that evening, he made no comment. He seemed happy enough to talk about himself and his smithy, and to shower her with compliments. As pleasant as they’d been that afternoon, she found they didn’t raise her spirits nearly as much as she’d hoped. They seemed shallow, suddenly. It wasn’t that they were different than before. Perhaps it was because she had been able to find them charmingly empty when she thought had something to return to with Cullen. Not a romance, but still, something she’d thought was solid and intimate. Apparently she’d been mistaken.

Dinner had finished some time ago, but Gavrin had seemed happy to sit at the empty dining table with her, talking. She said as much as she had to in order to seem interested, but she was, admittedly, barely even listening. She couldn’t stop thinking about Cullen. What had happened to make him want to push her away like that? Had she been mistaking politeness for interest? Had the friendship she thought they had simply been a case of shemlen politeness mistaken for something more? She was humiliated. Here she’d been, fantasizing about turning their friendship into romance when Cullen hadn’t even considered what they had to be friendship at all. And it hurt to lose that. She needed someone to talk to, someone she to whom she could admit weakness. After Haven, after he’d seen the fear in her eyes before she’d left the Chantry to face what she thought was certain death, she’d thought Cullen could be that person. Now, she realized, she’d been dumping all of her fears on an unwilling recipient. Obviously it couldn’t continue, but she couldn’t imagine talking to anyone else about her weaknesses like that. Cassandra needed her to be the infallible Herald. Varric seemed averse to becoming the confidante of another legendary figure, after what had happened in Kirkwall. She feared Solas and Vivienne would judge her as unworthy, and that Iron Bull would lose respect for her strength. She needed to be strong for Dorian, because each of them needed proof in the other that they’d be okay as outsiders in this. Perhaps Cole…

“Shivanas?” She startled at the sound of her name, and smiled apologetically at Gavrin. It had been too long since she’d heard her first name come from the lips of another person. It felt… strange. Or maybe it was just that she didn’t feel like she knew him well enough to be taking these sorts of liberties with her. Not that it mattered. She needed to make him happy, and if letting him use her first name was going to do that, then so be it.

“I apologize, I’m afraid I lost my focus for a moment there. I must be more tired than I thought.”

Gavrin nodded and stood, offering her his hand up. “Of course. To bed then.” He gave her a wicked smile. “Unless, perhaps, you should like to pass the night in the presence of another…?

Shivanas froze. Josephine had told her that he was a flirt, to allow him to think she returned his interest, but wasn’t this too much? How far was she expected to go to keep up the charade?

Gavrin seemed content to wait for her response, catching her hand in his and lifting it to his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss to her wrist and Shivanas ripped her hand out of his grasp before she could stop herself, taking a step back. She realized what she’d done a moment later and looked horrified. “Oh, Creators, I’m so sorry, that was terribly rude of me.”

Gavrin, however, seemed unfazed. “Ah well. I was hoping I had simply misread the signals between you and your commander. You can’t fault a man for trying.” He grinned self-deprecatingly, shrugging.

Shivanas blinked at him. “Th-the commander? What do you mean?”

Gavrin lifted a single eyebrow. “Are you not rejecting me because of your relationship with him?”

“My…” Shivanas blushed a brilliant red. “No! I mean… I’m not… We’re not…”

Gavrin was struggling valiantly against the smile threatening his lips. He clearly thought it inappropriate to find amusement in Shivanas’ distress. That, or he imagined it would lessen his chances to take her to bed with him. “You’re not in a relationship with him, or you’re not rejecting me?”

Shivanas took a deep breath, the blush still brilliant on her cheeks. “I’m not in a relationship with him.”

Gavrin seemed mildly surprised. “Well. Perhaps someone needs to tell him that.”

“Wh-what?”

“The way he was looking at you, my dear Inquisitor? That’s the look of a man in love.”

~~~~~~~

Cullen had spent much of the evening simply lying in his bed, trying not to think of Shivanas. It wasn’t working. He couldn’t get her face out of his mind. The shy smiles she gave Gavrin, the closed, pained expression she wore just before she slammed the door in his face. He cursed himself for the millionth time that night. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He never meant to hurt her. That what he got, distracting himself with unfair thoughts of jealousy when he should have simply been enjoying her company. That’s what he had wanted on this trip – her company. And, in the first night, it seemed like he’d managed to end any chance at a friendship they might have had left.

He jerked suddenly into a sitting position when the door opened abruptly and Shivanas rushed in, looking harried. She got about halfway through the room before she stopped dead, staring at Cullen.

At first, she didn’t quite understand what was happening. Why in Thedas was Cullen lying in her bed? And without a shirt? Her gaze dropped to his chest, going slightly wider while she took in the firm lines of muscle shifting under his skin as he rubbed his eyes, blinking at her in confusion. He had just revealed to her that he felt nothing for her! The sight of his chest should not be setting butterflies into her stomach anymore! What is wrong with her?!

They simply stared at each other for a moment before Shivanas’ brain finally managed to move past the sight of him shirtless and realized, much to her grave embarrassment, that this wasn’t actually her room. She must have miscounted the doors on the way down the hall and come into Cullen’s room instead. “Sorry!” she squeaked, blushing brightly and taking a step back. “I didn’t mean to disturb you!”

As she fled to the door, Cullen lurched to his feet. “Shivanas, wait!” It was only the way she faltered at the sound of her name falling from his lips that allowed him to reach the door at the same time she did. He pushed it closed with one hand while her hand closed on the doorknob, pulling once, uselessly, before she turned around to face him. It wasn’t fair of him to use her name like that, he knew. He’d just told her not to use his anymore. He hadn’t meant it, but that didn’t change what he said. “Wait.”

She could feel the heat radiating from his body. That didn’t seem right. Nobody else radiated heat like that, did they? Was there something wrong with him? Or was this just a Templar thing? It took her a moment to tear her gaze from his chest to look up at him. “For what?” It sounded sharper, more acidic than she’d meant it to, but looking into his eyes had done nothing but remind her of the cold sting that came with the realization that he didn’t care as much for her as she’d thought.

Cullen shut his eyes, sagging forward against the door a little bit. His head hung forward, and his nose nearly brushed the top of her head. “I’d like to apologize.”

Shivanas hadn’t expected that particular sentence to hurt as much as it did. It drew a sharp hiss from her as her heart twisted in her chest. The last thing she wanted to hear at the moment was his formal apology for having the gall to offend the Maker’s Prophet. “You don’t need to apologize, Cul… Commander.” Her voice only grew sharper as she made the correction and she squeezed her eyes shut, tilting her head down and away from him.

There was silence, for a moment, and then her eyes snapped open at the entirely unexpected feeling of warm fingers against her jaw, tilting her face upwards to make her look at him. In all the time she’d known him, Cullen had only touched her twice, and both times had been to carry her while she couldn’t walk herself. He had never displayed any sort of affection toward her before, not like this.

“I would like… to apologize for hurting you.” Cullen was having trouble speaking; he’d never been this close to her before, not without the smell of blood and battle clogging his senses. She smelled like lavender and greenery. Frankly, he’d expected the scent of burning wood, or ozone, to match her intensity. It was almost shocking, the gentleness of the smell. She opened her mouth to respond, but Cullen shook his head, and she allowed him to continue. “I was…” This was harder to admit than he was expecting. “I was upset, when I asked you not to use my name. The implications of it didn’t occur to me until it was too late.”

Shivanas was feeling more than a little overwhelmed – she was surrounded by Cullen on almost all sides. It took her a moment to fully comprehend what he said. “U-upset?” she repeated, confused. She couldn’t imagine what about. Up to that point, the trip had seemed to be going so well. What had happened to make him upset?

Cullen nodded, his heart leaping into his throat. He had to tell her the truth. He couldn’t imagine it would leave them as able to feel as comfortable around each other as they had before, but he knew it would be better than leaving her hurt and thinking he didn’t care about her at all. He drew a deep breath, quashed his nerves and dropped his face down until he was nearly eye-level with her, his nose bumping gently against hers. “Jealousy,” he said simply. He couldn’t help but smile at the way the emotions played out over Shivanas’ face. Confusion first, as if she wasn’t certain what he would be jealous about. Then, he could see it as she realization struck her, followed by surprise, then wonder… and then the widest, brightest smile he’d yet seen from her. As the moments passed, his nerves eased; this reaction, this bright, shining happiness on her face, was the farthest thing possible from whatever he had feared. Her smile was reflected on his face for a moment, and he dipped his head down to close the last few inches to capture her lips with his.

Shivanas gasped, the sound muffled by Cullen’s mouth pressed hard against hers. Her lips parted, and she felt Cullen’s tongue slip slowly into her mouth, tangling with hers for a moment.

Somehow, the feel of her skin under his hands, her head tilting up slightly to press her lips up against his, and her hands coming to rest hesitantly on his shoulders all colluded to make him forget to breathe. He broke the kiss with a ragged inhalation, gasping for breath. “S-sorry.” Except that he wasn’t sorry at all. His voice was shaking, his lips were burning and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her again. He was softer this time, easing his mouth over hers while his fingers slid up her jaw to tangle in her mess of red hair, holding her gently against him.

She moaned softly, trembling hands sliding up and over his shoulders, her arms slipping around his neck. Her body pressed between his chest and the door, the heat of him making her want to wish her robes away so she could feel his skin against hers. “Cullen… I…”

He parted their kiss again, his forehead coming to rest against hers. His breath was coming quick and shallow, and he couldn’t bear to stop kissing her. While he waited for her to catch her breath and gather her thoughts, he reached up and clasped her hand, drawing it down from around his neck to bring her knuckles to his lips, kissing each finger with a gentle reverence.

Shivanas paused, distracted from whatever she had originally intended to say by his kisses. She was confused – wasn’t a kiss to the hand a shemlen greeting rather than an affection? Was there some other meaning to them that she’d missed this whole time? “What are you doing?”

Her question was breathy and uncertain, drawing a smile to Cullen’s lips. It was easy for him to forget, sometimes, that she didn’t always understand certain human practices, and this particular instance wouldn’t have been clear even to a human woman. “Erasing him.” His voice came out a low, earthy rumble. It was the only explanation he could think of – he was going to trace his lips over every inch of skin Lord Gavrin had touched.

Shivanas couldn’t speak. Her throat felt like it had closed, and she had no idea what she could say to that in any case. Two words, two words was all it had taken to make her feel like the most desired woman in all of Thedas. And perhaps, at the moment, she was. But still, she felt a little lost and confused. When Gavrin had told her that Cullen looked at her with the eyes of a man in love, she had laughed at him. But now it seemed he was right, wasn’t he? But how could Cullen have gone from so distant to so desirous in the span of a single evening? “I don’t understand.”

Cullen sighed deeply, releasing her and stepping back from the door. It was a fair point. To say he’d been hot and cold today would have been a colossal understatement. Only now, when he wasn’t touching her, he felt all those old uncertainties tumbling back into the forefront of her mind. He lifted his hands, reaching out to her, but he was standing more than an arm’s length away, so he simply stood before her, holding out his hands, waiting for her to finish closing the remaining distance between them and step back into his arms. Up until this point, Cullen realized, he’d been the one initiating everything. He’d effectively trapped her in his room, if he considered it that way. He couldn’t keep pushing her and simply accept that she wasn’t saying no. She had to want this. She had to say yes. It had to be her choice.

Shivanas hesitated only a moment. She still didn’t fully comprehend his feelings, not after his confusing back and forth this afternoon, but in the end, all she needed was to see his face. Hazel eyes dark with desire, but clouded with uncertainty, and the fear that she wouldn’t come to him. The slight quirk of his lips, the corners turning up into a smile when she raised a hand and placed it in one of his. The twitch of his arm as he resisted the temptation to pull her hard against his chest. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, a bashful smile on her face. She closed the distance between them again, and by the time she came within arm reach, she laughed as Cullen gave up on letting her come the rest of the way to him and swept her up into his arms, hugging her to him so tightly he lifted her clear off the floor.

He was content, for a moment, to simply hold her, his nose buried in her perfumed hair. “Forgive me. For trying to push you away.” He took a step back, his legs hitting the side of the bed, and sat down, pulling her easily into his lap.

She lifted her head to meet his gaze, only to find his face close enough to hers that she couldn’t quite help but press a kiss to his lips. It was supposed to be quick, but she lingered, savouring the warm softness. “Why?” She realized that her question wasn’t clear when his brown furrowed ever so slightly, so she continued, “Why were you trying to push me away?”

He sighed, a flush rising on his cheeks. “Because I am a fool. I thought… you are Inquisitor, and there’s a war and… I didn’t think it was possible.”

Shivanas smiled, lifting her hand to his rough-stubbled cheek. “And yet I’m still here.”

That drew a smile to his face, “So you are,” and kissed her again. His hand came to rest against the small of her back, stretching out to span nearly the entire width of it, just as he had imagined. Her back arched slightly to accommodate his touch, making him smile against her lips.

Her heart skipped a beat at the feeling of his smile, and her hand dropped from his face to his chest, granting her a sudden and distracting awareness of his skin, as well as the return of her desire to feel it pressed hard against her own. Her kiss took on a different tenor, tenderness and hesitation being overcome by fire and lust.

Cullen felt the change, and his body reacted immediately. Her tongue darted out of her mouth to taste his lower lip, and he felt the blood in his body warming. He slid his hand up her spine until he was cradling her neck, his other hand coming to rest on her hip, and together they twisted until she was lying flat on the bed beneath him. He took a moment, then, to sit up over her and simply drink her in. Fiery hair spread in a halo around her head, her gaze dark and clouded with lust, her lips parted with heavy breaths and swollen from his kisses, her chest rising and falling more deeply and quickly than normal. The way she licked her lips and lifted her arms to beckon to him. Come back. And so he obliged, coming down until he was hovering just over her, resting on his elbows on either side of her head. He smirked when she tilted her head up, her eyes closing, clearly seeking his mouth on hers again. Instead, he dove into the curve of her neck, searing her with kisses and little nips. A dark note of possessiveness reared up in him – he wanted to mark her. He wanted Gavrin to be able to see it. A low growl escaped his throat as he sucked her sensitive skin into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth.

Shivanas’ eyes widened, staring, unseeing, at the canopy overhead. At the sound of the deep, primal growl, she responded with a sound of her own: a low, keening whimper of desire, matched by the sudden rush of desire that rolled through her body, starting at her heart and rushing out until it made her fingers and toes tingle, and sparked a growing wet heat in he depth of her belly. “C-Cullen…”

Cullen’s mouth started working its meandering journey down her collarbone, inching ever closer to the neckline of her robe, but he paused upon hearing his name and lifted his head slightly, leaving a soft kiss on her jaw. “Shivanas.” That devastating smirk reappeared once he realized she hadn’t been calling for his attention. Just calling his name. He pressed another kiss to her jaw, each gentle and loving, a drastic contrast to the harder, more demanding ministrations he returned to once his mouth returned to her upper chest. He made his way to, teasingly slowly, down to to the edge of her robe, his hand sliding easily behind her to tug on the tie that held her robe in place.

Her skin was burning where his mouth had been, and already she was anxious for him to continue. Before he even got the chance to stop and ask her if she wanted him to continue, she arched her back. “Cullen, please,” she gasped, her voice uneven with desire. It seemed it was all the signal he needed. A moment later, the knot was untied and she was shrugging out of her robe as quickly as she could manage. It wasn’t until she got the robe pushed down to her hips that she realized he had sat up between her legs, and was staring down at her. A blush rose on her cheeks, and she found herself wondering, against all odds, if he was disappointed in what he saw. She knew he wasn’t – the awe in his gaze should have told her as much. And yet, the doubt continued to gnaw at her. She didn’t have the rippling lines of muscle valued by the hunters of her clan. She was soft, her hips rounded instead of sharp, her ribs padded by thick flesh. Not enough to give her the pouch over her belly she’d seen on some noble ladies, but she didn’t think she looked strong the way Cassandra or Sera did. Why shouldn’t someone made of scars and muscle like Cullen want a woman who matched him?

Cullen, meanwhile, had to consciously remind himself to breathe. The lust she ignited in him was powerful, beyond anything he would have thought possible before he met her. His fingers were still hooked into the material of her robes now gathered around her hips. He removed them, instead pressing his hands flat to the front of her hips and began to slide them up her body, touching every inch of her belly, his eyes hooding with desire as they came up to cup each breast. He could feel her nipples swelling under his palms while he began his first, exploratory motions. Whatever fear was in her eyes melted away then as her head tilted back and she arched into his hands, her worries lost to pleasure. Satisfied, he dipped his head down and began to place gentle, warm kisses to each scar scattered across her torso. She was far from weak, in his eyes. Soft, yes, but that just made it easier for him to dig his fingers into her flesh. Her strength was not in question. The Inquisition would have died in its infancy if it were. By the time his mouth reached the valley between her breasts, both of them were wound tight with tension – every time he so much as brushed against her thighs, her hips rolled up against him, seeking friction against her core, and Cullen himself had grown so hard it was almost painful. They would not be able to wait much longer.

As much as she loved the way he was worshiping her body, Shivanas was growing restless, being unable to return the kind of affections he was showering onto her. She reached down, knotting her hands into his curls, and pulled carefully, drawing him up to her so she could kiss him. He was getting anxious too, she could feel it in the frantic feeling of his kiss. She allowed herself to drink him in for a long moment before she smiled against his lips, this time a mischievous expression, and pushed him over. They rolled – she’d caught him by surprise – and she ended up straddling his hips. She laughed, pushing her hair out of her face, and looked down to see a surprised grin on his face. But she wasn’t yet finished with her surprises. Straightening and tossing her head to clear her hair out of the way, she pressed her hands flat against his chest and started mumbling elven phrases under her breath. A moment later, all of the places where her skin touched his ignited with a green glow and she felt Cullen go rigid under her with a ragged gasp.

“M-Maker!” he choked, his hips bucking up against her of their own accord. He had no idea what she’d just done, what kind of magic it was, but his blood felt like it was on fire, and he could feel nothing but desire. Maybe she’d underestimated just how much he wanted her, if she thought she needed magic to spark his lust. For a moment, he felt like he was drowning in it, needing desperately to act but unable to think straight enough to determine what it was he needed to do. It cleared, after a few seconds, and he sat up. One hand grasp her bottom, his fingers grasping the round flesh still hidden under layers of silk, while the other dragged both of them towards the head of the bed, until he was seated with his back against the pillows leaning on the headboard, Shivanas still straddling his lap, looking startled by the sudden motion. He grabbed her and kissed her hard, his tongue plumbing the depths of her mouth, the taste of her drawing another deep growl from his throat. It took all of his thin remaining willpower to stop himself from tearing the robes clean off her. As it was, he pressed his hand flat to her stomach and slipped it down past the rumpled silk and into her smalls. He wasted no time running two of his fingers along her slit, dipping into her. His other arm wrapped around her torso, his hand pressed flat against her upper back so he could pull her against him and pull her red tresses out of the way of his mouth so he could kiss and nibble the skin there again.

Shivanas gave a thready cry, her hips jerking into his hand when his calloused fingers slipped into her. “Oh, Cullen, yes…!” She nearly collapsed into him, her arms sliding around his shoulders. She squeezed her eyes shut against the sharp jolts of pleasure that made her tremble each time his finger tips drew out of her to graze her swollen nub above her entrance. She clung to him, her whole body shaking with the intensity of her pleasure. He seemed as desperate for her pleasure as she was, his fingers pressing deep and fast. She tilted her head back, her hips riding his fingers as much as his fingers were pressing into her. “Cullen!” She cried out his name as he pushed her to her peak. Her fingernails dug into his skin, nearly breaking the skin in places, and while his fingers drove her higher, extending her pleasure to divine heights, they started sparking with electricity against his back.

The sharp sensation of the shocks was the signal Cullen used that it was time to slow his ministrations, and he shifted his hand from her upper back to the back of her head, gently turning her head to he could kiss her. As his lips met hers, he calmed the storm of mana in her that was causing the static sparks on her fingers. Even without the lyrium draughts, he could still perform a few of the old Templar skills. This was the first time he’d used it in a context other than self-defense. He hadn’t even quite realized he was doing it; one moment, he was wishing to calm her shuddering sensory overload, and the next, he felt the power roiling inside her calm to its usually placid state. To be honest, he hadn’t even known he could be so gentle with it. The Chantry certainly hadn’t taught anything of the sort.

The climax hadn’t done much of anything to sate her desire for him. Just taken the edge off. Barely. Once she caught her breath, she lifted her head from where it rested against his shoulder to kiss him again.

He, on the other hand, hadn’t had anything take the edge off. He was still aching for her. “Shivanas.” His voice was thick and rough with barely contained lust. “I need you.”

She simply nodded. She didn’t even bother removing the rest of her robe. She just reached down, untied the bows holding her smalls together and discarded them off the side of the bed. Then she went to work on the buttons of his pants.

Cullen’s head fell back with a groan. She didn’t even need to touch him; even just her hands near his groin was enough to set off a fresh, throbbing ache in his loins. His hands dropped to the sheets, which he took in a white knuckled grip. Part of him wanted to help her, but the rest knew he was so far gone that he didn’t trust himself not to hurt her in his excitement, and to cause her any harm was the last thing in the world he could want. Not when her touch was the closest thing to heaven he’d yet experienced. “Hurry,” he ground out, his hips jerking up towards her hands when she finally freed his length from the confining cloth. She didn’t bother removing anything else from his body, or even to pull his smalls all the way off. She just lifted the skirts of her robe and settled herself into position over him. The feeling of her wet heat against the head of his shaft was too much. He groaned and reached for her. His arm wrapped around her back, clasping her opposite shoulder tightly, and pulled her hard against him. Their mouths collided so hard that Cullen could taste blood, though in the delirium of anticipation, he couldn’t tell whose it was.

A moment later, Shivanas found the entrance, and his head slipped into her with ease, her body welcoming him with soft wetness. Cullen’s hips thrust up against her immediately, at the same moment as she dropped the rest of the way down onto him. He was buried into her to the hilt.

“Maker…”

“Creators…”

They sighed out their prayers at the same time, feeling finally fulfilled. This was satisfaction. It wasn’t climax they’d been striving for so eagerly. It was simply the intimate pleasure of being together like this, finally.

Cullen tugged gently on her hair, pulling her head back so he could press a soft kiss to the hollow of her throat. “I’ve dreamed about you.” He wasn’t sure why he said it, though it was true. He’d dreamed of having her like this, of the sounds and sights of her pleasure, of the feel of her skin. The first time it had happened, he’d woken embarrassed – he hadn’t spent himself in his sleep since he was a teenager. But he supposed that was what happened when one wanted so badly something – or someone – one couldn’t have.

Shivanas couldn’t help the bashful little smile that graced her features in response. She leaned into him, a deep hum of pleasure vibrating in her chest as the motion dragged his length into a different position inside her. She closed her lips around his earlobe, nipping playfully, then giggled breathlessly. “Me too.” She hadn’t reached her peak in her dreams – instead, she woke aching and had to finish herself in the darkness, often silently, since she spent so much time in cramped camps with her traveling companions.

He laughed at her admission, feeling yet another unexpected connection to her. “We should have done this earlier,” he observed. His hands came to rest on her narrowest part of her waist and then followed the gentle curve of her skin down to her hips, where his grip tightened. He held her in place and pushed his hips up against her experimentally. Even that small motion alone pulled a deep, rumbling moan from him. “You feel…” He choked before he could finish, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t find the words to describe how she felt, hot and tight around him.

A violent tremble rolled through her body, and she had to put her hands on his shoulders to stay upright. There would be a time for words again, later. For now, the lust was overtaking them again, demanding to be satiated. She rolled her hips once, drawing yet another moan from each of them, and then again, and again. He started lifting his hips to meet hers, and soon they fell into a rhythm. With his hands on her hips, she left herself arch back, trusting him to anchor her in place as they thrust into each other.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Every time his length slid easily into her depths, his eyes threatened to close, but he forced them open again; he couldn’t bear to miss a moment of this sight. Her eyes closed in utter ecstasy. Her bright hair falling in a mess of curls around her shoulders and down her back with strands streaking down her face. Her pert breasts bouncing with each thrust. Her lips parted and moving in a silent prayer to the pleasure he brought her. Nothing in the world could compare. The image of her like this would be burned into his mind for the rest of his life.

Shivanas was lost in the pleasure of their connection. His girth, just broad enough to stretch her so deliciously, and the friction of his length scraping against the swollen, sensitive spots of pleasure inside her. She was coming to her peak again. She could feel it, the tension coiling in her belly, the burning heat growing warmer. She was certain he could feel it too – her body reacting even more strongly to every motion, her breathing coming faster, every breath a soft cry. “Cullen…!”

His fingers dug into her hips and he started pulling her down harder, unsatisfied with how hard he could thrust up against her from his seated position. “That’s right, love, do it,” he growled. He was throbbing and tightening – his own completion was coming quickly, but he was fighting it. He wanted to feel her finishing around him first. He leaned forward until his lips were next to ear. She could hear every laboured breath, every soft groan. “I need to feel you.”

His teeth were clenched against the coming wave, his voice so husky and rough that the words were barely comprehensible. Not that it mattered. All she had to hear was that primal need. She gave a strangled cry, the tension in her belly tightening until it snapped. Her hips bucked against him, and she cried out. “Yes! Cullen!”

He grunted, determined to carry her through her orgasm. He thrust into her a few more times before he couldn’t take it any longer. Her body was pulling him inexorably toward his own release, and he couldn’t resist any longer. “Shi-vanas…” He groaned, pressing his hips up hard against her, and spilled into her.

Shivanas felt like she was about to melt. She leaned forward against Cullen, her cheek resting comfortably against his shoulder. She sighed, feeling him release her hips and slid his hands up her back to hold her against him. Each seemed perfectly content to stay like that, waiting for their breathing to even out. She could hear the beat of his heart. She smiled, listening to it slow from something erratic and quick to a calmer pace.

Neither of them could really say how much time passed in silence. Cullen broke it first. She felt him stir, as if he’d been half-asleep, then heard him draw a breath. “That was…” There was another pause, and she felt, rather than heard, his chuckle. “I don’t have the words.”

“Lath'nehn,” Shivanas suggested, her voice slightly dopey.

Cullen shifted, shuffling down the bed until he was lying flat on his back. He pulled her against him, her head pillowed against his chest. “What does that mean?”

She blushed. It had been the first word that came to mind to describe how she felt, but now that her mind was clearing, she wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to repeated it. Only, she didn’t know what else to say. It felt foolish to refused to answer, and worse to lie. It wasn’t inaccurate, either. She knew how she felt about him. “It… it translates roughly to the joy of love.” She felt his arm tighten around her and relaxed, relieved that he hadn’t found it to be too much.

A contented smile settled onto the commander’s lips. “Lath'nehn,” he repeated, enjoying the way the word felt on his tongue. “Perfect.” He felt her breath ghosting over his chest while she moved slightly to kick off the crumpled remains of her robe. Once that was completed, she moulded her body against his side, her leg coming to rest across his, her chest pressed into his ribs. He turned his head again, this time pressing an affectionate kiss to the top of her head. “Goodnight, love.”

Another soft, sleepy sigh. “Goodnight, ma sa'lath.”