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50 Kisses (Byron/Cullen)

Chapter Text

The first kiss lands on his cheek. Byron's sitting on the edge, between the Fade and waking, and that tugs him over. He refuses to open his eyes though, just grumbles and turns his head to the side to press into the pillow. The body beside him shifts, and a warm hand grasps his cheek, forcing his head forward so more kisses can be pressed over his face - his chin, his nose, his forehead, his cheeks, and finally one on his lips. His eyes open then. Cullen's leaned over him, smiling softly. He always looks so good in the morning light, and Byron's heart flutters a bit.

"Good morning, love." Cullen dips his head down to rest their foreheads together. 

Byron reached up to bury his fingers into now-loose curls, unwilling to let him pull away, "Must we?"

"We must. You have a meeting with Teyrn Cousland, remember?" 

He huffs - of course he remembers. Teyrn Cousland is a fair man, a good man, but that doesn't mean Byron wants to leave his warm bed, especially when said bed had a very attractive man in it. He sticks his bottom lip out, and all Cullen does is shake his head fondly. "I suppose I could get up," Byron sighs finally, "But that's only if I get more kisses."

Cullen laughs, "I think that's a fair trade."

Chapter Text

He stood in front of the remaining Wardens and spoke boldly, his voice demanding every ounce of their attention as he determined their fate. The Wardens were to join the Inquisition. It was a choice not all agreed with, but it was the Inquisitor's word, so they respected it. Byron stayed back to see that his companions were alright. He gave nothing away, not his exhaustion nor his pain. A messenger appeared to take him to his tent. 

"Where is the Commander?" Byron asks.

"He is setting up patrols. Should I send tell him to see you once he is done?"

"Please."

The messenger salutes him, and leaves him in front of the tent. Byron steps inside and immediately the illusion is broken. He slumps against the support pole. For a few minutes he just breathes until he finds the strength to start undressing. His armor was completely stained with blood. He drops it into the chest beside his cot. Once he was down to his smalls, he could assess the damage more clearly. He had a very ugly bruise on his chest - it was already forming, yellow now, but he knew the purple would set in soon. There were scrapes over his knuckles. He'd been lucky not to sustain a bigger injury. Soreness would be haunting him for the next week or so. For now, he downed two health potions to ease the pain. 

He hears the tent open, and a sharp intake of breath.

"Maker," Cullen breathes out, "Are you alright?"

Byron turns. Cullen takes in the bruising on his front with his eyebrows furrowed together. He wants to say something, to reassure him that he's fine, it's just bruises, but the words get stuck in his throat. Because he's not fine, not in the slightest. How can he explain it? He thought he was going to die. He had to choose who to leave behind, with the knowledge that the Divine sacrificed herself for him fresh in his mind. The horrors he'd seen, and he couldn't voice them, only reach forward.

Cullen came to him. He takes his face in his hands and leans in. For a moment they both stand still, looking at each other's lips that are separated by mere inches. Cullen closes the gap to brush them together gently. Whatever spell that came over them snaps. Desperation grabs hold as they surge together. Their teeth click together before they remember to tilt theirs heads, but neither care. They're far too busy moving their lips together, as sloppy as it may be, for it's with this kiss they say what neither had the courage to voice...

I thought I lost you.

Byron's the one to break it. He doesn't want to. They've never gone farther than kissing, but he wants so badly to press his adoration into Cullen's skin. However, he finds himself swaying on his feet as the last little bit of adrenaline bleeds away. Cullen's look of concern returns. He guides Byron to the cot, and down under the covers.

Byron catches his hand, and squeezes tight, "Don't leave me."

He squeezes right back, "Of course not."

He undresses and joins him. They end up on their sides, facing each other, fingers intertwined between them. Cullen wants to pull him closer, but he fears hurting him with all the bruising on his body. Byron's the first to fall asleep, being unable to fight it any longer. Cullen watches him for a time. He lets every one of Byron's breaths reassure him that they're going to be alright. They hadn't put a word to what this is, this dancing around each other, the kisses, the touches. But Cullen knows that losing Byron would destroy him.

He whispers a vow to keep him safe, before following him into the Fade.

Chapter Text

Byron crouched down to inspect the tracks. Fresh. He followed them to the undergrowth. It would be harder to track the deer in there, but he was sure if he stuck to the treetops he could find it and take it down before sundown. He felt he had a pretty good feel for the mountains now, or at least the part the clan was currently staying in. He had started to hunt and adventure by himself, which was what he was doing now. He'd set off after lunch to try and find something to bring home to the clan for dinner. 

Something snapped - a twig, most likely - off to his right. Byron froze. He stood slowly, listening. There was something there, he could feel the gaze upon him. He turned his head and stared into the treeline. He didn't find anything at first, but then there was a glint of light, and he found himself staring into honey colored eyes, eyes that were most certainly not animal, but human. For a moment, all the two did was stare at each other, until Byron turned and fled. He was light and fast. Moving through the forest was no issue - he jumped over roots and rocks, leapt off tree trunks. Behind him he could hear heavy footfalls, but his speed was much greater.

Byron would have gotten away... but the person hunting him new the mountains better than he.

He thought he was on the right path back to the hold when suddenly he came to the river. He couldn't cross it, it was too strong here, so he turned and sprinted along the bank. He only made it around a bend before he came skidding to a stop at the base of a cliff. This was most certainly not the way back to the hold. He could only turn around, perhaps make a break for it in a different direction, but as soon as he turned from the cliff he found his hunter upon him.

Byron's wrists were grasped and pinned to the stone. The large man who had caught him kicked his feet apart so he could stand between him, effectively pinning him between rock and muscle.  Byron huffed, and glowered from under his lashes at the man, who just smirked. This wasn't the first time he'd been prisoner to his love. Cullen was always smug when he caught him.

"As fast as you are, my little fox, you could not escape this time." He leaned his forehead to Byron's, "Now what am I to do with you?"

Byron licked his lips. There was a sheen of sweat on Cullen's very bare chest. His eyes slid lower, over his stomach, and down his legs. The only thing covering Cullen besides his boots was a loincloth. It was warm outside, so he supposed he couldn't fault him. His treacherous mind, however, was not thinking about the weather, but about how little fabric separated him from Cullen's cock. His eyes flicked up again.

"Kiss me." He demanded.

Cullen had tracked his gaze, and when he looked back into those honey eyes, he found burning lust in them. Cullen obeyed immediately. Lips pressed to his hard, but it was over before it even began, and Byron whined. He was soon assuaged when Cullen turned him round, pressing his chest to the stone.

"I'll do much more than that, little fox." 

Byron bit his lip as his pants were ripped down to his ankles. Maybe the next time he'd let Cullen catch him again...

 

Chapter Text

He's like a cat. The thought made him smile.

Cullen watched Byron sleep. He'd come into his office about an hour prior, looking sleepy. He told him that they were having a very important meeting and all of Skyhold knew they were not to be disturbed. Then he'd sat in his lap, leaned against his chest, and dropped off. Cullen was happy to hold him while he napped. It kept him calm. It was easier to work on reports now, he found, when he couldn't begin pacing about or getting too frustrated for fear he'd wake him. 

Now his reports sat done, and he leaned back in the chair to watch Byron as he rested. It was moments like these he remembered how young he was. True, there had been heroes younger than him, but there had also been heroes far older. It was easy, when Byron was sitting in his throne or addressing the Inquisition to believe him to be much older than he was, but here, with his eyebrows relaxed and lips parted slightly, his youth was apparent. He looked more like a harmless young man than the leader of a powerful Inquisition.

Cullen kissed his forehead. What he wouldn't do to give his love more moments like this to escape.

He couldn't resist leaning down further to kiss the corner of Byron's lips. The man shifted, made a soft sound, and began to turn his head as he woke, making their lips brush together. Both of them paused. Cullen sat upright and watched as Byron blinked sleep from his eyes. Once he had his bearings about him, Byron smiled and leaned in, and their lips met again, a little firmer, but just as sweet and chaste.

"I think our very important meeting was a success." Byron slipped off his lap and padded around to the door before hesitating, "How about lunch now?"

Cullen put the finished reports into a neat pile, and then left his desk to join Byron. "Lead the way."

Chapter Text

Cassandra watched Byron slip off his horse and run off before the messenger could even open his mouth. The man blinked, a little startled.

"If you came to tell him to see the Commander, he's already on his way." She told him as she dismounted her own steed.

The messenger blinked again, before understanding washed over his face, and with a small smile he left to return to his duties. 

Byron didn't know about the eyes and smiles that tracked his hurried pace up to his love's office. He'd been in the Frostback Basin for a month, not counting the traveling to and from, and now that he was home, he had no intentions of going anywhere for a long while. Letters were pretty, but they hardly compared to the feeling of strong arms around him, or waking up with blonde curls tickling his nose, or sugary kisses when he caught the other eating sweets when he knew he shouldn't.  

The door to the office swung open, and Cullen rushed out, clearly intending to meet him down by the gate. He paused when he saw the other. Byron didn't. He rushed forward and threw his arms around his neck. Cullen was quick to wrap his arms back around him, steadying them with a laugh that made Byron's heart swell. He wasted no time in pressing their lips together. It was a tame kiss the first time their lips met, but then Cullen was manhandling him back into the office, and the door shut, and the kisses became anything but. Byron found himself lifted onto Cullen's desk. He fisted his hands into his mantle to keep him from pulling away, and pressed his tongue past Cullen's lips. The moan it earned him went straight to his cock, and Byron was prepared to tear Cullen's clothes to shreds if he didn't get them off-.

"Oh!"

Josephine's startled gasp pulled the two out of their moment. Cullen flushed, the red spreading over his cheeks and ears and down his neck. He quickly moved his hand from where it had been groping at Byron's ass, and he stepped back a bit. Byron didn't bother to move, just threw an annoyed glance to the door. Josephine was wearing a blush of her own, and Leliana, a smirk.

"We will expect your report at a later time then," The spymaster spoke easily, but there was enough of a teasing edge to make Cullen duck his head in embarrassment. 

The door was shut. For a minute silence settled over them, until Byron stood and sauntered back to his love. He rested his hands on his chestplate, and looked him over for a moment. 

"Later is rather ambiguous, don't you think? Is it hours or days, or maybe minutes?" He cocked his head, "Regardless, I think I'd like to spend that time until "later" riding your cock."

Cullen whined, and dropped his head into the crook of Byron's neck, "Maker, please."

Later, when Cullen was sobbing and writhing as Byron pulled another orgasm out of him, he reminded himself to thank the quartermaster for fixing the hole in Cullen's roof. No need for more distractions. 

Chapter Text

Parties in the Free Marches were less dangerous and dramatic than those in Orlais, but no less full of politics. Cullen was not a big fan of them, but at least this party was being thrown by Bann Trevelyan to celebrate his eldest son's birthday. Ferdinand had assured them he was only asking for a small celebration, which of course meant their father went overboard, leaving the four Trevelyan boys exasperated, along with their respective partners.

"I know," Byron soothed when Cullen huffed for the tenth time, "Just stay with me and nobody will bother you."

It wasn't the parties he disliked, really. There were plenty of interesting people in Ostwick to talk to, along with Byron's brothers, but it was when people made snide remarks or tried to get handsy that he became uncomfortable.

Byron finished adjusting his outfit so he looked prim and proper as always. He pinned the crest to the breast of his jacket. And then, to Cullen's surprise, he picked up another crest, turned, and did the same to him. Cullen looked down to the ceramic workhorse. His eyes moved back to Byron's.

"There. You're practically a Trevelyan now, so..." He looked up, and his smile waned a bit when Cullen said nothing, "Is... that too far? I know we haven't really discussed-."

Cullen took his face into his hands and kissed him. He tried to press everything he felt - all his love, gratitude, admiration - into the slide of their lips, but it took more than one kiss to do that. He ended up backing the man against his dresser. They pulled apart to breathe. Byron licked his bottom lip, and regarded him, like he was waiting for Cullen to move away, but when he didn't, he surged forward and caught his lips again.

"Boys!" The call from downstairs forced them apart, "Come on! We'll be late if we're not careful!"

Lady Trevelyan was waiting at the bottom of the steps for them, and who were they to keep her waiting? Of course when she saw Cullen's rumpled collar, and the red on both of their cheeks, she figured out what the holdup had been, but she merely fixed Cullen's collar and shepherded them along to the ballroom. 

Cullen spent the duration of the party with his chest puffed out, clearly proud of the crest that now sat on his coat, with Byron always nearby, smiling at him. 

Maybe he should see about getting a ring too...

Chapter Text

Cullen whines into Byron's neck. He likes this, likes being curled up in his lap, tucked up to him, eyes shut while Byron's hand slides up and down his cock. The slick sound is coupled with Cullen's moans. Byron twists his wrist, rotating his wrist around the weeping head of Cullen's cock, and he chuckles softly when Cullen mewls and tries to buck up into his fist.

There's not a thought in Cullen's head about work or troops or the Inquisition in general. All he knows is the warmth of his love's body, the feeling over his breath ghosting over his forehead, the smell of cologne, and the pleasure spreading out through his veins.

"-always so good for me," Cullen realizes Byron is speaking to him, "You give yourself over perfectly, Cullen."

He jerks his head in a hasty nod, "Yours, m' yours!"

Byron's lips press into his. Any sounds Cullen would have made are swallowed as their lips tilted to the perfect angle, and then a tongue is pressing in. He tightens his hold in Byron's shirt while his tongue runs over his teeth, taking his time with exploring his mouth. He bucks up again, fucking desperately into the wet grip on his cock.

He cums with Byron's tongue flicking against the roof of his mouth. His body shudders while his cum sprays up, over his own tummy. He doesn't care about the stickiness though. When Byron's lips leave his, he drops his head back to his neck, and breaths out slowly. He feels encompassed, owned, and without a worry in the world at that moment, he floats.

Byron holds him tight and lets him exist in that headspace a while longer. 

Chapter Text

Byron swung himself up into the saddle. This trip was to Val Royeux, so at least the path there was well travelled, and the city was not as outwardly violent as places like the Frostback Basin. So, he should be safe, but with his luck, he might end up fighting through an army to get to the marketplace. 

Cullen was well aware of this. Reading Byron's reports when he returned never failed to make him feel as if his heart might seize. The man just got into so much trouble, between attempting to help everyone he came across, exploring every nook and cranny of the region, and dealing with a wide array of abhorrent foes. So even such a simple trip made anxiety crawl up his spine.

Byron turned, and looked down to him. He smiled softly and reached out. Fingertips drew down his cheek. "Don't worry about me, love. I'll be back before you even notice I'm gone."

Cullen took his hand in his, "Even an hour without you is abysmal." He pressed a kiss to the back of his hand.

Byron laughed, "What a flatterer you are! You could charm courts if you wanted to."

But he had the same anxieties - that perhaps he would return to find Skyhold in ruins, or Cullen ill or injured. So he squeezed his hand tight before he rode off.

He'll be fine, they both told themselves. 

Chapter Text

"Do you have a moment, Inquisitor?" Cullen had asked, head ducked and a sheepish smile on his lips. 

Byron should have seen the trap right then and there, but he didn't. He let Cullen lead him to their quarters, and was about to inquire if he was feeling alright, for Cullen seldom came to him during the day when they were both meant to be working. He never got those words out. Instead he found his back being pressed to one of the posters of his bed, and lips capturing his. Byron gripped onto Cullen tight. Their lips slid together perfectly, but it was hardly delicate. Cullen was demanding, sliding his tongue into Byrons' mouth, running it over the flat of his teeth and sucking his bottom lip when he pulled away, only to surge forward again. With a few minutes, neither of them could properly breathe, panting harshly against each other's lips, sucking in just enough air to kiss again. Finally Byron pressed on Cullen's chest to stop him from the next kiss. They stood there, panting, staring at each other, for a long moment.

"What has come over you?" Byron asked. 

Cullen shifted, and then groaned lowly. Byron realized there was something hard against his hip. He grasped Cullen waist and pulled him closer so he could slot his cock against him perfectly. Cullen made a soft whining noise and started to hump forward. 

"I uh," He blushed again, "Have been feeling urges all day. My patience was not as strong as I believed it to be."

Byron reached down and slid Cullen's trousers down to his thigh so his cock bobbed free. He only placed his fingers at the head, sliding the foreskin back and forth while Cullen bucked sharply forward with a quiet "Maker" falling from his lips.

"Let me reward you for what patience you did have, then."

Cullen agreed with an eager nod before he was dragged into another kiss. 

The Commander returned to his duties an hour later, and most people noted that he looked significantly more relaxed than he had earlier in the day. 

Chapter Text

The door to Josephine's antechamber opened, and through came Byron and Cassandra, engaged in a discussion as they walked across the office, hardly noticing Josephine at her desk and Cullen who stood before her.

"Are you summoning the war council, your Worship?" Josephine piped up, seemingly startling Byron from his conversation.

"Oh, no," He stepped down to stand beside Cullen in front of Josephine's desk, "Cassandra and I are simply planning a dragon hunting trip. There's a rather large one in the Emerald Graves, and we want to go over the map again. Nothing to worry about, unless you'd like to take up dragon hunting, Lady Montilyet?"

"As exciting as that sounds, I think I'll leave that sport to more capable hands."

Byron offered her a kind smiling. And then, with little thought, he turned, placing a hand on Cullen's hips, and leaned forward to press a brief kiss to his lips, with a soft, "Hello, my love." He stepped away from the both of them and rejoined Cassandra, and they continued their path, jumping right back into their discussion about highground tactics. Cullen stared after him, lips slightly parted with shock. Of course they kissed, quite often in fact, but Byron had seemed to kiss him without thought. Like just showing him affection was part of his routine, that he was always in his subconscious. That made him blush a soft pink.

When he looked back to find Josephine staring at him with a grin, his cheeks grew darker. 

Chapter Text

Cullen knows he's awake. He feels warm, his limbs are heavy. He can tell it's light out, but he doesn't open his eyes. Rather, he's content to float where he is. That is until there's a shift. He reaches out, and his hand fingers warm skin. Grasping on, he pulls the body closer, and hears a questioning sound from the other man before he turns and curls into Cullen's chest. Lips brush against his chin, and he angles his head down until they met. The kiss is simple and soft, but he can feel his love's smile against his lips and that makes it the most cherished act in the world. Cullen folds his arms around Byron and holds him tight. They float a little while longer. 

Chapter Text

"Cullen," Alistair elbows him, and finally Cullen jerks upright, blinking around wildly, "Byron's here. Like I've been saying for the past five minutes."

Cullen looks over his monitor to find that Byron is there, leaning against the doorway, grinning over at him. He flushes. They all know he's a workaholic, but he hadn't meant to be ignoring his partner. So he stands, thanks Alistair, and goes to Byrons' side.

"Hey babe," Byron greets him with a kiss, "I got you lunch. It's in the car."

That, Cullen thinks, it a little odd, but Byron's holding his hand and walking him out and he follows like a puppy on a leash. He'd probably follow Byron right into oncoming traffic, and he'd be perfectly happy to do so. Byron himself looks a little pleased with Cullen not putting up a fight. They slip out the door and around the corner to the parking lot, and Byron's car. But before he quite knows what's happening, Byron is turning and looping his arms against his neck, and there's lips against his. He melts into it immediately. For a moment, he forgets about casework and interviews.

Byron pulls away after a minute. He looks regretful to do so, but they both know they can't linger, though Cullen would very much like to push him into the car and makeout like teenagers.

"Did you leave the food in the car just to get a kiss out of me?" He asks, and Byron's answering grin is enough.

It's his favorite, of course, the rice from the Chinese place downtown. And plenty of it, which is good, because he forgot breakfast. But something tells him Byron already knew that. A hand rests on his stomach and Byron presses a kiss to his cheek.

"See you at home, Len."

Cullen's still tired when he returns to work, but he feels like now he can make it through to the end of the day without losing his mind.

Chapter Text

Byron looks at him like he's a traitor when he brings him the bowl. Cullen knows how he feels. He's been sick all day, throwing up first in the bed (and crying when it got on Cullen, who just got Byron into the shower while he cleaned up). He tried to eat breakfast, but threw that up as well (that time making it to the toilet). At lunch he pushed away anything Cullen tried to feed him. But now he's hungry, clammy, and grumpy. They have a doctor's appointment, but it's for the next day, so Cullen just wants to get something in him to keep him going until then.

Hence the bowl of broth. 

"I know, love," He murmurs, "But just try? For me?"

Byron regards him for a minute, but he does as he asks, and drinks down the broth, even if it makes his stomach feel weird after being empty all day. It's a slow process, but he does it. Because Cullen did it for him all those times he hard to beg him to eat when his withdrawals were the worst. 

"Thank you." Cullen kisses his temple, and takes the bowl away.

He comes back to hold Byron, let him lay on his chest while they watch tv. They'd seen this episode of Bake Off a thousand times, but still he likes watching it, especially with the comforting weight of his love in his lap, wrapped up in their softest blanket, looking a little sleepy and seemingly holding the broth in.

Cullen feels something against his cheek, delicate, almost tickling. It takes him a minute to realize it's Byron's eyelashes. A butterfly kiss. Even as tired and sick as Byron is, he's still trying to be sweet. 

He holds Byron tighter to him. 

Chapter Text

Byron leads him back into his chambers with that cocky swagger in his hips and a smirk on his face. They don't kiss until they get up to his bed, Byron expertly dodging away from all of Cullen's attempts. But once Cullen has him, their lips meet. The first kiss is short and sweet, both of them laughing softly into the air between them, relishing in finally being alone. But then Byorn's face twists. Cullen sees it; the fear. The fear he'd never come back, that the world would. Corphyeus was gone, dead by his hand, and yet those worries festered inside him, as they had been for what felt like ages.

The next kiss is forceful. They surge together. Clumsy fingers work desperately, even with their eyes shut and mouths locked together, to remove armor and closing. Once Cullen's mantle and chestplate are on the ground, he lifts Byron. Arms and legs curl around him. They fall into the bed still kissing, even if each one is broken by heavy panting. 

Byron cries when Cullen finally presses him into. 

The don't lose their frantic pace then. 

It's only after, when they're both a tired from the long day and their first round that Byron climbs onto his lap and takes him slowly that they both feel like they can breathe.

But they're not letting go.