Cullen furrowed his brow. This just didn’t make sense! He was so sure he’d left the note right next to his long-since disused lyrium kit.
It was supposed to serve as a reminder of how far he’d come from those dark days, and of his hope for the future. He’d just wanted to read through the sweet words of his beloved again before he returned to his quarters for yet another night alone in his cold, empty bed.
The inquisitor had been called away on rather urgent business to Val Royeaux, and insisted that Cullen remain at Skyhold for his own sanity; the endless predatory flirtations from Orlesian nobles far too easily slighted by rejection was not something he was displeased to miss.
But that also meant being away from the man he was used to holding as he slept at night, his soothing balm against the night terrors. This notion was far more disagreeable, and Cullen was beginning to regret that he did not insist upon accompanying Trevelyan into the lair of creatures far more terrifying than any beast of the Wilds.
If he could just find the letter...
Cullen looked up from his desk to find Scout Jim stood in the doorway, appearing rather nervous. He hadn’t even noticed the door open.
‘What is it?’ Cullen asked, running his hand through his hair unconsciously as he regarded the scout. It was unusual for reports to come directly to him at this time of night.
Jim hesitated. The Commander always made him nervous. It wasn’t fear, exactly. Something about the set of the Commander’s jaw sent a quiver of... something turning in his stomach. Regardless of the cause, Jim found himself standing stock still, mouth open as if to begin speaking, as usual.
Cullen shook his head with impatience. ‘Well? I was just about to retire to my quarters. Spit it out.’
Jim snapped out of his reverie and felt his cheeks burn. He hoped they didn’t look as scarlet as they felt. ‘Uh, right, of course. Here you are, Commander!’ He closed the space between himself and the Commander’s desk, and handed over a folded up piece of paper, before retreating back to the door just as quickly. ‘Uhm, well, goodnight Commander!’
Without another word, the door was closed behind the lad, and Cullen was left staring dumbfounded after him.
Perplexed, Cullen turned the paper in his hands, before unfolding it. Inside, he found a familiar hand; it was the slightly inexact cursive belonging to his Inquisitor.
He leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin absently as he read.
I request your immediate presence in the usual place. Come alone.
Cullen swallowed thickly, sudden excitement fluttering behind his abdomen. But... he wasn’t supposed to be back for another week at least!
Not wasting another moment, he leapt to his feet and made for the door that Jim had exited through. He smoothed his hair back with both hands, hoping the humid day hadn’t spoiled his neatly styled curls, and then left through the door at a brisk pace, passing through the rotunda without acknowledging Solas.
He didn’t slow down until he reached the small square of garden that few knew about, and even fewer visited. Heart hammering in his chest, he tried to calm his breathing before entering the clearing.
‘Maker’s breath, Cullen. I didn’t expect you to sprint here!’ The familiar low, rich tones of the Inquisitor’s voice made Cullen’s arm hair stand on end despite the warmth under his armour. It rang with amusement as Trevelyan grinned at his favourite person in the whole of Thedas.
‘Tristan! Blessed Andraste, what a surprise it is to see you!’ Cullen closed the gap between them and threw his arms around the mage, who eagerly returned the squeeze.
With no other was he so comfortable and open. Gone was the Commander of the Inquisition in that moment, replaced by Cullen the man, who had missed the embrace of his beloved more than even he had realised. They remained with arms wrapped around each other, savouring the other’s presence.
Cullen buried his face between Trevelyan’s neck and shoulder, and inhaled the other man’s scent: he briefly wondered how he was able to smell so wonderful even after an undoubtedly long hike through the Frostbacks. Perhaps it was the magic; there always did seem to be a pleasant buzzing of mana around the Inquisitor. It was something Cullen could now recognise with his eyes closed. Back in his templar days he would have found it unnerving, but luckily the Maker had brought them together after such dark times had passed, even if the future was becoming more and more uncertain.
Tristan chuckled softly, the warm welcome sending him almost giddy with joy. He moved one hand to Cullen’s head and softly stroked the curls that seemed to beg to be knotted around his fingers even as they drank in each other’s presence.
‘I missed you, my darling.’ Trevelyan’s words sent Cullen’s love drunk mind spinning. He pulled away just enough to gaze deeply into the grey-blue hues that greeted his amber ones with a grin that said nothing short of I love you.
Mouths, suddenly hungry, found each other and danced passionately to the staccato rhythms that pounded in each of their chests. This was no rehearsed scene, but contained all of the fumbling of lovers desperate to be closer than the tangible world could allow. It persisted as Cullen slowly backed Trevelyan against a tree, and only broke when both were gasping for breath.
Tristan found his pelvis pressed back by Cullen’s own hips, a pressure that was at once gentle and insistent. His hands made their way down to grasp Cullen’s backside and urged his blond lover on. Soft moans escaped from the Commander’s throat as Trevelyan kissed and licked at his neck, trailing down from his ear, and past his adam’s apple.
Momentarily aware of his surroundings, the Commander grasped the Inquisitor’s arms to still them. He panted hot breath against his ear, and gasped a barely intelligible ‘Here? Are you sure?’.
‘Yes, my love.’ Tristan answered in a husky, desperate voice, and he thrust his hips forward against Cullen’s to illustrate the point. Cullen didn’t need to be told twice. Their lips found each other again as Cullen moved his hand underneath Trevelyan’s shirt, searching for and finding an already stiff nipple. Tristan groaned in response, tilting his head back and away from the kiss. Cullen took the invitation and began kissing his neck, softly sucking as he went.
‘Cullen... ‘ Tristan breathed. ‘Please,’ he didn’t finish, but Cullen understood.
In an instant, Cullen had turned Trevelyan around so that he was facing the tree. ‘Unlace your breeches’ came the command, almost a growl. Tristan did as he was told, and found both his breeches and his smalls tugged down to his ankles. The cold air was a shock, but Tristan quickly melted when he felt Cullen’s smooth, hot tongue lapping against his asshole. He cursed under his breath, and pressed himself outwards, as if to bury the Commander deeper. Cullen simply moved his head back, maintaining the same closeness. Maker, he is such a tease.
Cullen reached around and grasped Tristan’s dick, stroking from base to tip and back again agonisingly slowly. He felt his own cock quiver in anticipation as the Inquisitor’s asshole relaxed against his tongue, allowing him to gently press inwards.
‘Maker’s breath, Cullen...ahh.’ Trevelyan was only able to concentrate enough to understand as Cullen shushed him. ‘You… you need to…’ He continued in defiance, and Cullen chuckled.
‘Very well.’ Cullen backed up and stood again, removing as much armour as he could while Tristan took a moment to steady himself against the tree. By the time he turned and lowered to his knees, Cullen was mostly only in cloth. He drank in the sight, before moving forwards on his knees and unlacing the Commander’s trousers.
Once unlaced, they easily fell to the top of his boots, which Cullen helpfully discarded. Cullen was already stiff as a rod when the Inquisitor took him inside of his mouth eagerly, making sure to tease the underside with his slick tongue. Cullen’s groan reverberated through his chest, and Tristan responded in kind, vibrating his throat as he accepted Cullen’s cock deeper. At this, Cullen’s hands shot to Trevelyan’s head, lacing his fingers in his hair and assisting the other man -rather less than gently- closer to his soft blond tufts of pubic hair.
When Trevelyan began sucking in earnest, Cullen whimpered and pulled away.
‘Too… close.’ he gasped, running a hand through his own now untidy locks, trying to calm down a little as Tristan smirked up at him and gently wiped a dab of precum from his lips before licking his finger clean.
Still breathing hard, Cullen grasped the Inquisitor’s chin and guided him back onto his feet. The two shared a deep kiss before Tristan turned around and bent forwards, resting his hands against the tree. He wiggled his ass playfully, earning a deep chuckle from his Commander.
‘Careful, you’re giving me ideas.’ he teased. ‘For later.’ He ran his hands down the Inquisitor’s back, all the way down to his hips, causing the mage to shudder.
‘Please Cullen… please fuck me.’ The request was to the point, and Cullen saw no need to prolong any further when they were both in such dire need. He parted Trevelyan’s cheeks, and slowly but firmly pressed himself inside. They both groaned, and Tristan gripped the tree tighter, his own member twitching rather desperately.
It took a while before Cullen was able to sheath himself to the hilt, but when he got there, Trevelyan was little more than a drooling mess. He pressed himself against the back of his lover and hugged him tightly, before slowly withdrawing himself, and pumping back in a little faster. A desperate whimper fell from Tristan’s throat, words failing him. Cullen understood though, and began pumping in and out of his Inquisitor in earnest, keeping a steady rhythm.
Before long, both were panting and shaking, climaxes tantalisingly close. Cullen picked up the pace, and once more reached around to pump Tristan’s urgent erection in time with his frantic thrusts. The mage’s whimpers began to crescendo, each eruption torn from his throat ever more forcefully.
‘Cullen, I’m going to…’ he almost screamed, and the Commander bent forward as best as he could without losing purchase, and gruffly responded.
‘Then come, my darling.’ Tristan didn’t need to be told twice. He climaxed violently, covering his stomach in his own cream, shuddering convulsively. His tight grip on the tree was nothing compared to the squeeze Cullen felt around his cock as the other man rode out his orgasm, and he found himself erupting inside his lover, muffling his grunts against the back of Tristan’s shoulder.
They both lay on top of Cullen’s furs, panting, shaking, sweaty, and utterly content.
‘I needed that.’ Tristan almost laughed at how absurd it sounded out loud. Cullen smirked, pulling Tristan in for a short, tender kiss. Resting his head on the Commander’s shoulder and tracing the just visible muscles on his abdomen, Tristan had never felt more at home.
Cullen had begun to stroke his hair as he gazed up at the star-filled sky, their breathing synced.
‘Me too.’ Cullen agreed.
‘If this is the welcome home I get every time, I might have to leave you behind more often…’ Trevelyan teased, earning an unseen smirk.
‘As one of your advisors, I would not recommend it.’
‘I love you.’
‘I love you too.’