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Cullen had never been one for closed in areas. Ships, offices, caravans: it didn’t matter what the space was, it needed air. A window, a hole, someplace he could see that the ceiling around him didn’t go on forever, that was all he needed.
Which is why even he couldn’t fathom what had overcome him when he’d had the deadbolts installed on his doors.
Honestly, they seemed so extra when he looked at it objectively. The doors locked and the only people who had keys were his personal runners, he wasn’t in any danger of getting attacked. It wasn’t for protection and it definitely wasn’t for a greater sense of security. Then, when he looked at it through the eyes of a man who actually had moments to keep private, they didn’t seem like such a blockade between him and the outside.
The door to the main hall opened forcefully as he sat there combing over reports and deployments. The sudden rush of air gusted a few of the papers off of his desk, a candle even getting blown out by it. And then she was standing there, flushed and red in the doorway.
“Inquisitor!” He stood up, reports forgotten even as they were still settling on the stone floor. A smile broke on his face as she turned and quickly pushed the bolt into place, looking at him over her shoulder through the curtain of her hair.
“I don’t have to be the Inquisitor for another hour and a half,” Clara said hurriedly, turning and swiftly walking over to him.
She leaned over his desk and pulled him into a kiss before he had a chance to answer, her lips soft as she moved them against his own. He found himself forgetting what he had been about to say and cupped her face, pulling her as close the desk between them would allow.
“Do you want to--?” he started to ask when she gave him a moment to breathe, but she just cleared off part of the desk and hopped up, pulling them together again. It wasn’t soft but it was good, something fierce that drove the thoughts right out of his head.
She broke away quickly after his hands had fallen to pull her hips against him. “Now it’s an hour and twenty-seven minutes,” she panted, long legs wrapping around his waist.
He pulled her flush into him. It was embarrassing he was half-hard already but it didn’t matter; the doors had deadbolts. “So you come to see me on your break?”
“I want to do more than look at each other, Cullen.” She chewed on her lip for a moment then started undoing the buckles on his breastplate.
He looked at one of the side doors in apprehension. Runners were due soon, and although getting walked in on wouldn’t be the worst thing, he knew Clara would brain whatever poor soul had bothered them. “People will be here soon.”
She groaned and pulled the plate all the way off, his surcoat coming undone and hanging open. As his backplate slide off behind him, she leaned forward and nearly launched herself at him, her mouth searing on his neck as he stumbled over the piece of metal and back into the wall. The plate clattered loudly as she moved to his mouth, swallowing the groan he let out.
It was hard, her lips pliant as she took the strength from his knees. She wasn’t heavy and her hips were blatantly grinding into him right now, his own hands helping her as she rode him through their clothes. The air in his lungs was gone, she was so soft and yet not. Her quick hands were pushing his mantle and surcoat all the way off, the pieces bunching around his elbows as he refused to put her down so they could come off.
“Love,” she groaned, breaking away though her body still rolled on him. “Please.”
He let go of her with a huff, the both of them working at his armor until it was off completely and dropped around the desk. When he was free and the plates lay forgotten, scattered around his feet, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself back up. He grabbed willingly, joints only protesting slightly as he supported them both.
Their lips met softly at first, her kiss feathering over his scar while he brushed his nose against her cheek. He smiled into it, giddy and so very happy. She made him happy, he loved her like nothing else, the warm weight of her body in his hands a blessing straight from the Maker, he was sure. Everything was better, brighter, worth it with her.
“I love you,” she whispered as she brushed her lips over his jaw.
He held her more tightly, squeezing in response as he let out a shaky breath. “I love you too,” he murmured, his nose moving up and running lightly over the scar that cut down her left eye. “How do you want to do this?”
She was still busy, her mouth moving to his neck now as her hands bunched in the back of his shirt. “It’s my turn to be a mess,” she mumbled.
You’re always a mess. “I can handle that,” he said as he pressed his smile into her cheek.
But Maker, was she a lovely mess. The press of his lips against hers then was hard, insistent, seemed to be everything she wanted because she reacted immediately. It was intense, a visceral thing that wiped his mind clean until the only thing there was how her hair felt brushing against his face, the warmth of her skin through his shirt, the aching need and heat he felt where his hips grinded into her.
All her breath came out in a rush as he slammed them both against the wall, her scream caught in her throat as he kissed her. One of her hands slid down the collar of his shirt, her nails digging into his skin while the other scrabbled at the door next to her. The slide of the lock clicking into place rang with the cry she let out as he rocked his hips into her. It was gloriously frustrating, a burning that he felt in his gut as he ground himself into her. It was all intensity and need, affection and adoration, everything he felt for her turning his mind into nothing but her.
She shuddered against him, her hips rolling as she chased her own end. He felt it too, tried to focus on anything else so he didn’t finish before her. He kept his hazy eyes open, traced the familiar pattern of the freckles on her neck with them. One of his hands skimmed up her side and pulled the front of her shirt open, the pale skin of her chest with the dark freckles flushing under her supporter. Both of her hands fisted in his shirt, tugging it as she whined at him to please do something
"C'mon, love," he murmured, skin too hot where he was touching her. He drove his hips forward even harder to punctuate, her moan ringing in his ears as he held his own back.
"Cullen," she whined, his name practically a plea, choked and full of need.
He hiked her up the wall and tried for a new angle, determined this time. It was so hard to finish her just like this but he'd be damned if he didn't love trying. It was something about the combined frustration and frantic desire that drove him wild to see her like this, her mouth open and body eager. Just imagining what she probably felt like right now, how wet she would be, how tight her body was, how badly she wanted to come, it was going to kill him right there.
The hand not holding her went to her breast, kneading her until she whined from the stimulation. Her hands left their vice grip on his shirt and scrabbled at the wall behind her, nails rasping over the masonwork and he knew she was so close, just teetering there on the edge. He pressed harder, enough to feel her trembling against him as her body started to shake. Her skin grew even redder, that beautiful birthmark on her collarbone darkening and he had to press a kiss there.
Dipping his head, he did just that. The hand on her breast trailed down between them and pressed high between her legs, all she needed, that last push before she came, legs shaking and eyes screwed shut as he held her up through it.
His own need was at full force and he had to fight not to follow her right over, but Maker was it worth it. He kept his eyes open, watching her lovely face as she came apart. This part never got tiring, the satisfaction of giving her this so entirely worth everything. It was such a private moment, so much more than sex. It was her, him, just the two of them with the Inquisition locked firmly outside behind three bolted doors.
She pulled in a few deep breathes, her body shaking as she tried to get herself under control. Her hands scrubbed at her face, rubbing the blush and probably a few freckles away before she took another deep breath and leaned forward to kiss him. It was a soft thing and he could feel her body was still too boneless to stand, his own limbs burning from the bright Please! in his head.
Her arm wrapped around his neck, the other going down between them to cup his erection. He groaned in the back of his throat, forehead leaned against her own as she squeezed him.
“Do you want to go upstairs?” he managed through the need in his gut.
She took her hand away and braced it on his forearm, giving him a peck when he whined at the loss of contact. With a small nod, she squeezed his arms to get him to release her. He put her down slowly, gentle despite feeling like his gut was on fire. Then she was up the ladder in a flash, Cullen hesitating before quickly bolting the last door to the room and following her up. The wood creaked as he climbed, the floor echoing with his heavy footsteps. The initial landing dipped a bit under his weight but he didn’t pay it any mind.
Clara was standing there, already down to just her pants and supporter and the latter was already halfway off. He groaned as he watched her yank it all the way, the piece barely hitting the floor before he picked her up and landed with her onto the bed. The wooden frame protested loudly, but he ignored it in favor of the light laugh that had bubbled out of her. It was a lovely sound, one he didn’t get to hear nearly enough and he let out a chuckle himself, their noses smushed together as they kissed.
It was nice, so normal, so welcome after so many months of fear. Just the warm weight of her body under him was wonderful, any frayed nerves he might have had from working eased as she started pulling his shirt up. Their kiss was only broken when she pulled the shirt and tossed it away, already forgotten as it fluttered to the floor and her hands were back on him.
They dragged up his back, suddenly so cold and he jumped at the iciness. She laughed again and let her magic go, the air springing back to normal. Warm hands now, she grabbed his shoulders and pulled herself along him. The drag of her breasts against his chest was searing, his skin far too flushed for him to breathe properly. The intent to tease her was there but it fractured when she breathed out his name, the sound high and he was never very good at denying her anything. She let out another needy noise and he broke so easily he would have been ashamed had he had the presence of mind.
He leaned up and looked down at her, unhooking her legs from around him. Her pants and smalls came off easily, her legs kicking to help him yank them down and then he was back on her. His fingers pressed into her, his breath coming out in heavy pants as he felt how tight she was. She made more of those needy noises that killed him, high keening things that came with her rocking her hips up and off the bed as she chased his curling fingers.
Pulling his hand away and immediately regretting the loss of her warmth, he hushed her as he stood and quickly pulled the rest of her clothing off. She reached out for him when he leaned back over her, eagerly grinding into him as she pulled him back down. The whole length of him felt like it was on fire, his skin seared right to her at every point of gloriously heightened contact. He held himself to her, grabbing her hips and stilling her as he tried to clear his head for a moment and just breathe, needing air for a moment that didn’t smell like her. It always got like this, he could never handle getting to hold her like this, it was too much.
The mattress creaked as he let her go and leaned back. She was lying on the sheets, mouth open and eyes lidded as she panted and stared back at him. Maker’s breath, she’s beautiful, he caught himself thinking as he lightly trailed his fingers over her skin. Her freckles had always reminded him of those star maps he’d been forced to study during his Templar training. She had such lovely constellations on her skin and he always found himself tracing them.
Leaning down, he brushed his lips over the new scar on her thigh, and an old one a bit further up. She shivered under his lips, skin jumped and then relaxing at the contact of his mouth. He pressed his lips to her knee, holding her leg up as he kissed his way up to her hips, over her ribs, the sides of her breasts, teeth scraping over her shoulder before she huffed and pulled him to her mouth. She hooked her other leg around his hips while she kissed him, lips soft as he grinned against them. It was moments like this that were the best, the way she got more and more eager when he teased her, skin flushed and lovely lips parted as she ground herself against him. It was like he couldn’t breathe, the air was so thick and all he could feel was the length of her body against him, skin gloriously warm, her long fingers threading through his hair, fisting in it, tugging as he slid into her. It was so wonderful, the feel of her around him, so completely good.
“I love you,” he murmured against her lips, hips grinding slowly into her.
She whined in response, beautifully sensitive and eyes squeezed shut as she tried to roll her hips faster, pick up the pace. She was always in such a hurry.
His own eyes slid shut as he gave in, hips snapping hard enough to rock the bed into the wall. Her cries grew louder, each one punctuated by the sound of the bedframe hitting the wall. Everything was so warm, the slick way they ground together, the way she clenched around him, her arms holding him close as she chased completion. It was so easy with her, she was so refreshingly real, skin flushed and wanting for him. That alone almost pushed him over the edge.
He pressed his face into her neck, her nails digging into his shoulders as he held her hips more tightly, fingers hard enough to bruise. The bed was creaking more loudly but it drowned out in his ears, pulse and the sound of her moaning his name covering his mind until it was all he could hear. He breathed his I love you into her skin and she whispered please, the word hotter than that broad plane of contact between their bodies.
She started tugging on his hair again, one hand digging into his back as she whispered that please again. It was ringing around his head, so loudly with everything else; the slide of their sweat-slicked skin, the feeling of her wrapped around him so completely, the burning cord of tension in his gut that felt liable to snap, it was all so deafening.
He groaned as she tightened around him again, still not quite there and he was sure she was trying to kill him. His hand slid down her body as he took pity on her, fingers pressing at the apex of her thighs. She shuddered around him again, her arms pulling his head down as she buried her face in his neck to muffle her scream.
She was so tight around him as she came. It was over just being too much and pulled him right along, his arms fighting as he tried to support himself so he didn’t collapse and smother her. Her hips were still rocking with his own stuttering pace, the both of them riding the aftershocks together.
He stayed there on top of her for a few shaky moments, revelling in the feeling of her fingers as they trailed up his spine. It felt like she was counting the vertebrae, hands dancing lighting up the bones. He breathed a satisfied sigh into her neck, his nose brushing over her collarbone. He managed a few chaste kisses for the birthmark there, his lips leaving a slow trail up her neck as he came to her eyelids, and then he had a lingering one for each. A few of her stray touches traced along the faded scars on his skin as she sighed, content to just bask in the affection he was giving her and he loved so fiercely right then.
He pushed himself off of her and onto his back, still not entirely convinced he wouldn’t crush her if he’d stayed. She huffed at the loss of contact and pressed herself into his side, her long limbs awkward for a few moments as she tried to position them comfortably. He let her move him like a doll; it was always useless to try and help when she was like this.
His arm ended up under her head, bent enough for him to hold her closer. She sighed, the hand she had on his chest drawing a cold line over him. The skin there jumped at the sensation, the minor tightness of her magic buzzing over his skin. He threaded the fingers of his free hand with hers, his touch light as she sighed.
"You still haven't asked me, you know," she murmured as she snuggled closer to him.
He was still glowing from it, mind wandering from how she felt against his skin to the way she'd sighed his name. "Excuse me?" he asked, thumb rubbing small circles on her shoulder.
"To marry you." She pressed a kiss to the muscle of his chest. "You said you had a plan."
I do have a plan but you'll never get me to tell. "I also said I preferred to be wearing trousers when I asked," he pointed out. "Sadly, I never seem to be wearing any when we have time alone."
He felt her grin into his skin, her hand on his chest coming out of his own and skimming over an old, long scar. "I have to say, I rather prefer you in your current state."
He laughed at that, her own giggles hidden in his shoulder as she tried to supress her snort. She'd always said she sounded ridiculous but getting her to laugh was one of the smallest things he took the greatest pleasure in.
When the room fell silent after a moment, the only sound was her breathing steadily beside him. He felt her move impossibly closer, her leg thrown over his own. The rush of affection he got right then would've knocked him over had he been standing, he loved her so much he couldn't imagine any future that didn't have them in this exact position for the rest of their lives.
"I love you," he said for no particular reason other than that it was so painfully true.
She smiled into him again, skin gloriously warm and he felt his heart constrict. "I love you too," she whispered.
She didn't have to be the Inquisitor for another thirty minutes or so, but he was willing to bet she'd break and stay Clara with him for the rest of the night.