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Dare to Hope

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Cullen always blushes prettily when Dorian flirts with him. He likes to make him turn red, watch that small bashful, pleased smile bloom on his handsome face, and he hopes he somewhat has made his day better, if only for a little bit. He sometimes doesn't reply to the flirtation, but he never protests or seems uncomfortable by the attention, under which Dorian would automatically cease.

It never happens, so he continues his shameless compliments, the glances and the casual touches. Cullen hurts, so he tries to cheer him up however he can, however he's allowed. He convinces himself it's meaningless, just like he does with everyone else.

It isn’t.

There's the Winter Palace where they have to not only play the Game, but also change into their amours and investigate Orlesian political issues. By the time they discover the culprit and things are settled, Dorian is ready to call it a night. Instead he fixes his moustache and pretends that whatever these nobles are telling him is of any interest to him. He smiles and nods and laughs when it's required of him, but he keeps glancing around in the hopes someone will save him from all this.

He sees the Inquisitor flirting with Bull, uncaring of how the others will judge their relationship. Dorian wishes them the best. There's Cassandra, Leliana and Josephine who are giggling a bit further, and Dorian's contemplating joining them when a glass is presented to him, held by the most gorgeous man in here. Dorian has only allowed himself one glass all night to keep his head straight - well, as straight as he can be - and he blinks at the gesture.

"I thought you might be in need of a, um... remontant " Cullen says with kind eyes.

"Thank you." He takes the glass, sips the bitter wine. Cullen leans against the wall beside him, their shoulders almost touching. "I saw you with your groupies, they seemed awfully joyous to be near you."

Cullen groans. "Harder than harpies to get rid of."

They spend some time in silence, and yet it’s the calmest Dorian feels tonight.

"You know... You flirt, but you never act on it," Cullen comments. Dorian's blood freeze for a second. He empties his glass.

"I flirt with a lot of people. Women, straight men--"

"But do you mean it, with me?" Fingers gently touch the back of his hand, the exchange hidden between their bodies. Dorian lets out a breath, turns his hand so he can lace their fingers together.

"Could I dare to say, I meant every single word? You're a better man every day, Cullen, despite what you seem to think, and anyone would be happy to have you."

Cullen smiles, tugs him by his hand to get out of the main ballroom, towards some intimacy. Dorian follows without restraint.

Cullen’s kisses are just like him, hesitant until he's faced with a goal, which this time is to ravish his mouth until Dorian is wobbly in the knees and has lost all his inhibitions. His lips are softer than he’s imagined them to be, but he supposes he's been pampered under Leliana’s watch for this evening. Dorian has no complaints. They don't have sex that night, but Dorian has never felt this close to cum in his pants simply by making out.

They depart for their respective room that night with the promise of a future together, and it's more than Dorian has ever dared to wish for.


It turns out that Cullen’s mouth is always this soft, he discovers over the following weeks. And plump, and so, so sweet. All of him is sweet. His hands, carding through his hair or setting on his lower back, just resting there. His smiles, his eyes softening when he thinks Dorian doesn't notice. His attentiveness, little things that just make him even more loveable, like when he brings him chai tea in the library just when Dorian’s thinking of getting some, and he tends to sort out the piles of books his room when he visits him over the gardens because he’s a methodological person while Dorian is anything but that.


They're playing a game of chess in Cullen’s tower, with the magically enhanced brazier nearby them to keep them warm. They're talking about something, Dorian doesn't even remember what, because Cullen is looking back up at him with heated eyes, and oh, Dorian's not so cold anymore. He gets up quickly, impulsively, and next thing he knows, he's stepping over and sliding in Cullen's lap.

“Is this the new game you want to try?” He breathes again his mouth, grinning, and he lets out a small gasp when Cullen pulls him closer with his hands on his ass, squeezing. He's so large and Dorian's thighs are wide opened, makes him feel deliciously exposed.

“Whatever you want,” Cullen replies, brushing their noses together and smiling. He presses a slow kiss on his lips, then uses his tongue to lick into his mouth until Dorian gets the message and sucks on his tongue.

It’s filthy, messy, and Dorian is sure he’ll have beard burns all over his face at that rate. He squeezes Cullen’s broad shoulders with a low moan, shifts his hips, and he can feel the rumble in Cullen’s chest at the motion.

“It’s fortunate you’re not wearing your armour today.”

Cullen snickers, brushes back some of Dorian’s hair that has fallen in front of his eyes. “More so for me, given my current situation.”

Oh yes, Dorian can certainly feel it, a hot heavy weight underneath him, and he shifts again with a pleased sigh. He drags his mouth down his neck, gently bites and nibbles his way down to the collarbone. The chair protests when Cullen leans back into it, struggles to untuck Dorian’s shirt from his trousers. Dorian finally takes pity and stops his ministrations for a moment to remove the garment himself, dropping it behind them on the chessboard and scattering the chess pieces all over the floor. He wasn’t winning this game anyway.

Cullen looks at the scars on his chest, the tattoos on his sternum. He slowly brings his hands up his sides, cups his cheeks to kiss him again before he’s mouthing at what he’s always assumed are his imperfections. Cullen kisses every single one he can see, and he urges Dorian to stand when he reaches his stomach. He’s always taken pride in his physique, knows how attractive he is, but never someone has touched him with so much dedication.

Cullen doesn’t need to say anything, his vehemence is enough.

He unlaces his trousers, doesn’t wait for them to pool completely on the floor to lick a hot path up down his cock to the head and take him in his mouth, brows furrowed in concentration. He holds Dorian by his hips so he doesn’t move, and Dorian can only brush his hair back and watch.

Spit dribbles down when he starts to get the hang of it, and he sucks him with a determination Dorian is actually not surprised of seeing. He coughs a few times when he pushes himself too far, but he uses his hand for what he can’t reach and Dorian sees stars.

He takes to slide his spit-slicked lips along his shaft when Dorian reaches his orgasm, jerks him off with his big hand and mouths at his balls and milks him until Dorian’s too sensitive. He can barely stands on his legs, but Cullen catches him and makes him sit on his lap again.

“You’re still fully clothed, amatus .”

Cullen hums, eyes intent, as if he’s trying to memorize this moment. “We still have time, love. Want to head upstairs?”

Up they go. Cullen undresses in the loft, with a military efficiency Dorian is actually turned on by. His body is thickly muscled, blond hair everywhere. He’s not shy either, doesn’t turn away from Dorian’s gaze when he approaches the bed. They lay side by side, facing each other. Cullen splays his hand on his ass, he seems quite affectionate of it.

“You’re a beautiful man, I don’t tell you that enough,” Dorian says, enjoying the contact of skin on skin. He wraps his arms around his neck and brings up his thigh to tease him, grinning when it has the desired effect. Cullen pushes him on his back and installs himself between his opened legs, presses their groins together.

He doesn’t talk, instead uses his mouth for something more pleasurable. He tastes of his cum and of himself, lingers of lyrium on his tongue. Dorian wonders if Cullen will ever tell him of the withdrawals, but he’ll never tell him he already knows. It’s his choice, and Dorian won’t take that away from him.

Dorian’s cock grows harder with Cullen’s every small thrust, but sweat doesn’t make the best lubricant.

“Wait, let me.”

It’s a gesture of pure trust when Cullen doesn’t question him, only moves away to give Dorian some space when he drags his hand between their bodies and summons magical lubricant. It’s warm to the touch, and he makes sure there’s enough on Cullen’s dick before he slowly presses a finger against his hole. Cullen watches with wide eyes as he prepares himself, sits on his heels to lift Dorian’s hips so it’s easier to reach himself.

“Fuck,” Dorian gasps at the display of strength. Cullen doesn’t even give the impression he’s lifting over two hundred pounds right now. Dorian rests his foot against his shoulder to stretch himself further and works faster the two fingers in his hole, then three, eager for something bigger.

“You’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen,” Cullen breathes out, turns his head to kiss the inside of his knee, and okay, that’s enough.

“Come on, Commander, it’s time for you to fuck me.”

“Are you sure?”

Dorian swats at one of his thick thighs in impatience. “I was ready the first time I saw you.”

Cullen takes the time to place a pillow underneath him, face still a bit worried, and Dorian wishes he could smother the idiot with his love. He’s careful when he pushes his cock in him, and after the initial burn, Dorian tugs him closer with his legs around his waist and groans when he’s filled, the stretch a bit painful but nothing he couldn’t handle.

Cullen gets the message that Dorian won’t break, and he starts thrusting in him hard, resting on his knees as he watches his dick disappear in Dorian. It makes him laugh, that enthusiasm, and he tightens his muscles around him.

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen gasps. He grips his waist, their skin slapping together loudly in the room. He changes angles until he hits something in Dorian that almost makes him scream, his own dick hard again. He strokes himself in time with that big cock in him, licks his lips under Cullen’s unyielding eyes.

“Will you come for me, amatus ? Give me everything you have.”

The encouragement is what seems to be Cullen’s last straw. He bites down on his swollen bottom lip and empties himself in Dorian, his pace slowing down until he’s resting against him. It just occurs to Dorian that he hasn’t really voiced his pleasure at all. He sweeps his thumb on his bruised lip, his still hard cock twitching when Cullen takes the digit in his mouth to suck on it, like he’s done on another appendage not so long ago.

“That slick tastes nice,” Cullen comments, licks his palm. It’s Dorian’s dominant hand, the one he uses to cast spells when he has no staff around. He could set Cullen on fire with it, and yet…

He moans and strokes himself faster as he watches Cullen suck on his index with a pleased expression, fully knowing what he’s doing to him.

“Want some help?” He finally says, letting go of his finger with a pop.

“I’m almost there, to be fair…”

“Well, then.” And he leans down to suck on his balls, gently tugging them one by one. He licks them and down to his loose hole, and the feeling of that soft tongue makes him whine. He wants to ask if Cullen might have an oral fixation, but at this point he’s too far gone for words.

The pleasure explodes in him and he blacks out for a second, just one, but it’s enough to blink back into reality to Cullen hastily getting up to throw a pitcher of water on the burning rug.

“That… hadn’t happened since my teen years,” Dorian says once he catches his breath. “I hope it didn’t scare you.”

“For the fact that you enjoyed yourself enough to catch my rug on fire? I’ve had worse.” Cullen retrieves a wet rag to clean him with, gentle and kissing every inch of skin he’s wiping off. Dorian grows warm, even more so when he comes back and they snuggle under the covers.

“So I have to ask, were you ever caught having sex in the Chantry?”

Cullen winces, scratches his stubble. “Was it that obvious?”

Dorian hums in affirmation, his head resting on Cullen’s shoulder. He’s thrown a leg between Cullen’s as well, their thighs pressed together. “I don’t want you to think you can’t vocalize your pleasure, and I don’t want to pressure you, but I did notice you quiet yourself.”

If that’s how the Templars are raised, no wonder some of them grow up as assholes. It’s not just about their pleasure, but of their emotions altogether. Tell someone to shut up about something and they will shut up about everything else too. He hopes that Cullen would open up about his personal struggles, but how could he, when he silences everything else.

It’s of no surprise that Cullen doesn’t reply, instead tightens his hold on him. Dorian’s dozing off when he finally hears a quiet reply, which makes him smile.

“I’ll try.”