I forgot to update yesterday, mostly because I was tired. ANYWAY! Some writing was done today. I realized I had a plot hole I need to fix in the new Old Magic chapter before it can be send out, I started on av-mello‘s prompt which is coming out nicer than I thought it would!, and I have been broadly writing a new mildly angsty oneshot where Cullen and Dorian are snowed in.
Please send your prompts to all of the magnificent Cullrian writers who are participating in the Cullrian Prompt Saturday--there’s a button on the left side of my blog if you forgot who’s doing it. And if you’re not participating, you should!!
Nothing was written today. Not a single word. I put a oneshot I had written for tumblr up on AO3 after editing it, so you can read an edited version of Showmanship where I will continue on with two more chapters of smut in the future.
Final update tonight, I swear :D Prompt Saturday was a huge success! Three oneshots were written. I got a LOT of ideas while writing and I’m going to explore them in the future. If any other Cullrian writers want to join me in Prompt Saturday, that would be AMAZING! The more the merrier :D
So, I know I said I was going to write another prompt, but I’m well drugged because I had a migraine this morning. So nothing I write will be coherent. (Don’t worry av-mello, I see your prompt and it will be written!!)
Feel free to prompt me throughout the week, and then maybe I can spam you guys with seven or eight stories on the Cullrian tag next Saturday that I’ve written through the week =D
“i’m in the nurse’s office a lot with migraines and you’re always in here organizing her tongue depressors and i really don’t think you go to this school so what gives” is like perfect for Cullen/Dorian if maybe it was them in university and it was the health center bc Cullen = migraines and Dorian = outsider. Like... I should probably stop obsessing over this ship so much.
This is an OLD prompt, jacatlyn, but I thought maybe you needed a bit of cheering up. I was thinking of expanding this and doing a whole modern AU, so this is just a sneak peek :D I hope you like it!!
***
Cullen's brain throbbed against his skull. It was like someone was taking an ice cream scoop and dragging it along the bone, scraping and pulling trying to get his skull into some proper order. But there was nothing for it, Nurse Wynne had said. It was simply Cullen's body aching for the lyrium and if he wouldn't take it, there was not much they could do except keep him in a room with the lights out. It was practically his room at this point, Wynne had said with a smile.
At least she supported him in trying to get over lyrium. His professors were less than happy about the drop in his performance, but Cullen stayed fast.
Wynne nodded her head when she saw Cullen walk into the clinic, allowing him back into his room without needing to sign the paperwork. She looked as if she had her hands full with a flu that was going around and assuring the students that no, they definitely weren't going to die. Cullen smiled his thanks and walked down the hallway to the end where there was a solitary dark room with a hospital bed on it.
And someone in it who seemed to be--for all intents and purposes--organizing tongue depressors.
A man probably Cullen's age with the most ridiculously well groomed facial hair in existence. He was dressed rather posh in a suit jacket over a dark red button up and nice jeans.
"Apologies," the man said as he turned to Cullen with a wide smile. "Room's all yours, don't mind me." The man, Tevinter it looked like, motioned for Cullen to sit on the bed as he brushed past him and out the door. "Feel better."
Cullen stood in the doorway for a little while longer, watching the man walk down the hallway before he took the man's advice and laid on the bed.
Cullen completely forgot about the man until he came into the nurse's office the next week. The headaches were getting more bearable, if a bit more frequent. When Cullen stepped into his room once more, there the man was, organizing tongue depressors.
"My, but I didn't think I would get to see you so soon," the man said. "I was told this room stayed empty, but I fear I've been misinformed."
"It's, ah, my room, I guess," Cullen replied, trying for all his worth not to rub at the back of his neck. Maker but the man is attractive. The sort of attractive that knows he's attractive and can play it for the fullest effect. "Wynne leaves it for me."
"Quite the special treatment, hm? I wonder how you managed that."
"I interned for her at Kinloch," Cullen muttered as he pushed down the memories threatening to resurface. He couldn't deal with both the lyrium and the guilt. Not now. Preferably not ever.
"Ah," the man says, his smile dropping a fraction. Kinloch's fate wasn't exactly a secret. "My sympathies. I didn't mean to drudge up unfortunate incidents in the past. I'm being rather rude though, aren't I?" The man inclined his head towards Cullen, making a bit of a show of the bowing. "I am Dorian Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. A pleasure to meet you."
"Cullen Rutherford." Cullen tried to imitate the man's bow but probably couldn't pull it off quite like him. "You go to Haven?"
"Unfortunately, no. Haven's not exactly mage friendly." Dorian's stance tensed a little and Cullen wondered happened to give him that impression. Sure, there were Templars at Haven, but Haven had more than a few degree programs for mages. "I'm a bit further across town at Vyrantium. Though I believe I've done enough imposing. Please rest, Cullen Rutherford. Do feel better."
The mage left the room again and Cullen was left lying in bed thinking about Dorian Pavus, most recently of Minrathous.
It was another week before Cullen went back to the clinic, his room devoid of any Tevinter mage. There was a pang of disappointed, but it was probably for the best. He could get some rest and lie in the hospital bed in the dark, listening to the white noise Wynne always put on for him.
A blissful hour passed of Cullen falling in and out of sleep, completely relaxed against the pillows. Then the door opened and in stepped his Tevinter imposer. "Cullen!" Dorian called when he stepped foot into the room. "We seem to be making a habit of this. I'll let you-"
"You can stay," Cullen said as he pulled himself from his tired haze. "I'm sure the tongue depressors are out of sorts."
Dorian smirked at him and shook his head. "Is that sass, Cullen Rutherford? Don't think you can outplay me in a verbal spar. I'm quite adept."
"For a Vyrantium mage, I suppose."
"Oh dear me, I don't think I have to take this from a Southern Chantry boy, handsome as he may be." Dorian slid a chair over to Cullen's side, being careful not to make too much noise. "Now tell me, what ails such a handsome man as you that you need to come to this room at four pm every Tuesday?"
A blush rose on Cullen's face from the compliment, which Dorian seemed to pick up on if that twitch of his eyebrow was any indication. "It's not every Tuesday...."
"I assure you, my strapping Haven boy, it is."
"Would you stop?"
"Calling you handsome? No, I rather like the blush it creates. Plus, I do so love pointing out the obvious," Dorian replied. He leaned over Cullen's bed and for the first time Cullen noticed the mage had gray eyes and kohl perfectly drawn about his lid. Maker, he's even more attractive than Cullen first thought, and he's practically lying on Cullen's arm. "But you haven't answered my question, my muscular Southern."
Cullen groaned and tried to bury his head in the pillow and away from Dorian. It wasn't even the compliments that set Cullen's face aflame. It was the possessiveness, it was Dorian saying 'my,' as if he had any right to Cullen. As if he could even want Cullen. The way the mage's voice slid over the compliment and the possessiveness, he did it so confidently. As if he were simply stating facts, that Cullen was handsome and his, and it was irrefutable.
Maker, but it did things to Cullen he would rather not think about. Couldn't think about. The flimsy hospital blanket wouldn't hide anything. Not to mention, he'd only spoken to the mage for fifteen minutes. Dorian was simply flirting. He probably did it with everyone.
"Headache," Cullen finally said, still unable to face the mage. He was making a fool of himself and he barely knew the man.
"Rather consistent for a headache," Dorian said. "Are you feeling better now?"
All Cullen could do was shrug. His headache had dulled, but he always had a constant headache as his faithful companion. "Somewhat."
"Better than nothing, I suppose. So tell me, my lovely Fereldan, what are you studying that gives you so many headaches?"
"Combat strategy with an emphasis in military leadership," Cullen replied. School he could talk about, even if the mage was still smirking at Cullen's fumbly nature. "And you?"
"A Commander in the making, I see." Dorian leaned back in his chair, looking at Cullen with too bright eyes. "Theoretical magic. The sort of magic you Southerns wouldn't approve of."
"Anything in particular?"
"Oh, time manipulation and necromancy, if you want me to be specific."
"DORIAN!" came a woman's voice from down the hall, entirely too loud for the small clinic. A small elf opened the door, peeking into the room. "There you are! We're running late."
"Fashionably late, Lavellan. How many times must I explain this?" Dorian rose from his seat and kissed the small elf on either cheek. "I'm afraid I'll have to cut our conversation short, Cullen. Same time next week?"
Cullrian prompt: Dorian and Cullen training together at Skyhold, mage vs ex-templar. Optional Iron Bull and Sera snickering and making dirty jokes from the sidelines.
I’m not sure if this is quite what you wanted, aeradae, but hopefully you like it! Sorry it took so long, I had to leave my house for a bit. (Don’t people know I’m writing Cullrian?!?!)
***
Cullen and Dorian sparred exactly the way the Qunari sparred, Bull thought. It was foreplay of the highest degree. Did both men really think they needed to be shirtless to spar? He'd seen the Commander spar with other soldiers and mages and he'd never been shirtless. It seemed Dorian was the exception.
Of course, if they didn't spar shirtless every week at exactly the same time in the morning, then Bull wouldn't have the opportunity to sit with Sera, Varric, and the Inquisitor to watch them. Varric for note taking purposes and to make sure the two didn't kiss. He, Sera, and the Inquisitor just liked to watch.
"Just 'cos I don't like sausages doesn't mean I don't know good ones when I see it, yeah?" Sera told him when she came to join him, the Inquisitor nodded in agreeance with the apparent sage wisdom. "'Sides, gotta make sure the dwarf doesn't cheat me."
"I'm a dwarf of my word, Lady Sera," Varric said with an overly dramatic bow. "I don't need to cheat to win."
"You might," Lavellan said as they all watched the Commander and mage fight in the clearing below. "I don't know if they'll last another week without ripping one another's clothes off."
Watching Dorian and Cullen fight, it was hard not to agree with the Inquisitor. Cullen was casting a sort of Dispel on all of Dorian's spells, so the pair was resorting to fighting hand to hand. The Commander was far more adept at it, of course, but Dorian didn't play fair. Plus, the vint had at least some training when it came to fighting, it seemed. Probably cam from a line of fencers or something equally noble in Minrathous.
It did wonders for his chest.
"Nah, see how fast Curly gets off Sparkler?" Varric pointed out. "I still got time, don't you worry."
Cullen wrestled Dorian to the ground, pinning the mage's hands above his head. He brought their heaving chests together used his bigger body as leverage over the squishy mage's. "Do you yield?" It was a question spoken loud enough for the four voyeurs to hear, even from their hiding spot in the brush.
But all Dorian had to do was arch his back off the ground a bit to turn the Commander into a stuttering mess. It loosened the hold Cullen on his hands enough to where Dorian flipped their positions easily, lips brushing against the shell of Cullen's ear and saying something they couldn't quite hear.
"Damn," Bull muttered. "Anyone else hot?" he asked to the group sitting in the snow. All he received were nods in affirmation.
***
"Venhedis," Dorian muttered as Cullen ground his thigh against Dorian's cock. "Unless you wish to get ravished on this field you will have to stop, amatus."
"Not yet. Another two days before Leliana wins," Cullen muttered, giving a good show of struggled against the mage above him without actually trying to dislodge him. In fact, the only thing he was successful in was doing exactly what Dorian told him to stop doing.
The mage groaned and sat up a bit, showing off for their onlookers. "And you're quite sure she'll split the winnings?"
"More than happy to, so long as she gets one up on Varric."
"You owe me wine for this. Tevinter wine. Not whatever you lot down here consider wine."
Magical experiment gone awry means Dorian’s hands are burnt, and the care of Dorian’s fabulous mustache falls to Cullen. Ooooor same premise, but Cullen has to help Dorian dress with ALL THE BUCKLES.
ALL THE BUCKLES! Also, an appearance by Jim, just for you, tklivory :D
This took much longer than I thought it would and if there’s a desire for it, I can nix the last line and continue on with the story. But only if you guys want it!
Cullen and Dorian haven’t been together for long, if you could even call it that. They haven’t progressed further than kissing one another in secluded hallways. It isn’t that Cullen doesn’t want to take the relationship further, it is that Cullen never seems to have the time. Add that to Dorian absolutely wanting no one to see them together, it means they simply don’t have the opportunity to progress further.
So when Dorian shows up in Cullen’s office late in the evening despite knowing Jim is still in Cullen’s office relaying information about one troop movement or another, Cullen knows something is up. The mage’s normal mask has slipped and cracked and there’s a redness about his cheeks that Cullen wants to point out, but he doesn’t. Dorian is holding his arms behind his back and Cullen wonders how in Andraste’s name the mage opened the door.
Probably magic. Dorian didn’t have the same hangup of using his magic that all the other mages in the keep did.
“We’ll discuss the Hinterlands in the morning,” Cullen tells Jim. “Give my report to Cassandra.”
“But ser-.”
“Oh, do run along?” Dorian asks, his voice a strained polite tone. Whatever is bothering the mage had him more embarrassed than upset, it seems.
Jim hastily bows his head and races from the office, no doubt already spreading rumors of the Tevinter Magister and Commander of the Inquisition. No matter, they are ones Cullen can deal with rather viciously if his soldiers start whispering.
“What’s the matter?” Cullen asks as he steps to the mage, pressing his lips lightly against Dorian in greeting. “You’re normally in the tavern by now.”
“Yes, well, it seems I made a slight miscalculation. Happens to the best of us, I’m told, which is clearly true as it happened to me.” Dorian ignores Cullen’s eye roll and brings his arms forward, revealing two bright red hands. From the tips of his fingers to his wrist, Dorian’s hands are nearly as red as Cullen’s coat. “It’s not permanent,” the mage says. “I asked the healer and she gave me quite the disapproving stare as she told me it will fade in a few days.”
“Do they hurt?” Cullen asks as he refrains from touching them. “Are they burnt?”
“Not burnt, per say, but a close enough word, I suppose. And no, they don’t hurt, I simply can’t feel them.” Paralyzed? Cullen shoots Dorian an alarmed look, which Dorian would wave away. If he could. “Oh, don’t look so fretful. As I said, a few days only.”
Cullen takes one of Dorian’s hands in his, watching the mage’s facial expression for any indication of pain. There is none, only a strained smile as Cullen presses his fingers into Dorian’s palm. “What do you need me to do?”
That blush returns on Dorian’s checks and it brings a wide smile on Cullen’s face that he doesn’t even both to hide. “I would like to sleep, Commander. I can’t go to the tavern because I can’t hold the blasted drink and I tried to fall asleep in my quarters but as you can imagine, this outfit is not exactly comfortable.”
Cullen didn’t argue there. Dorian’s outfits consisted of buckles, belts, and metal ornaments that made him rather blinding in the sun. “You want me to undress you,” Cullen replies with a smile. “You can’t do it with magic?”
“If I could do it with magic, I wouldn’t have come and given that blasted courier gossip fodder for the next month,” Dorian spat venomously, which he seemed to regret instantly. “I apologize, that was unworthy. I’m not asham-”
“Hush,” Cullen interrupts with a smile. Cullen knows how little Dorian wanted their relationship to be scrutinized. If it bothered him, he wouldn’t have entered the relationship at all. Not to mention he knows that Dorian must have slowly started to go out of his mind without the ability to use his hands. No precise magic, no books, nothing to keep his mind otherwise occupied. “Walk me through how to get this garish thing off you.”
“Garish?” Dorian tries to mock being offended but without a hand to clutch at his chest, it doesn’t quite hit its mark. “As if your cloak were the pinnacle of fashion. This is precisely why the Maker left us, Commander.”
“Are you going to let me undress you or shall I let you sleep in these buckles and belts?”
“Who knew you’d be so eager?” Dorian asks with a smile, some of the faux arrogance coming back onto his face. Did he believe Cullen would reject his request? Maker’s breath no, this was…perfect. “It’s much simpler than it looks.”
It was absolutely not much simpler than it looked.
It takes Cullen ten minutes just to get Dorian’s damned half sleeve on his left arm off, meanwhile the mage is laughing at his plight the entire time. “How in Maker’s name do you do this alone?” Cullen asks as he throws the sleeve across the office. All that work and only one arm of Dorian’s is bare.
“Magic, mostly,” Dorian replies with a wide grin. He begins instructing Cullen on how to remove the true garment. First the buckle across his chest, then a buckle that hid underneath that buckle, then undo the two leather straps about his bare shoulder, then unhook the book at his hip because who in Thedas doesn’t carry a book on their hip?
It takes Cullen ten more minutes before he bares even a few inches of Dorian’s chest. The mage’s left breast is bared to the world, though his entire right side is still bound in more leather than Cullen even thought possible. “I thought you wanted to get me undressed?” Dorian asks cheekily.
Cullen responds by nipping at the Dorian’s collar bone. Not enough to leave a mark, but a bit more vindictively than Cullen originally meant to. The sound of Dorian’s breath catching his throat when Cullen’s teeth find his skin is utterly satisfying. So Cullen does it again, this time running his tongue over the bite to soothe the wound. It’s not enough to leave a mark on the mage’s darker skin, but the thought of Dorian walking through Skyhold with Cullen’s teeth marks on his neck makes Cullen groan.
Maker, but they’ll have to do that someday.
“How do I get the rest off?” Cullen asks against Dorian’s neck. He runs a hand in the mage’s hair and uses the other to bring the mage against him, kneading him thumb at the bared flesh on Dorian’s hip.
“Ah, well,” Dorian stammers as Cullen feels the mage’s throat convulse under his lips. “Just the, ah, buckle at my wrist. Undo it and yank the sleeve down.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Cullen pulls back from the mage, mourning the loss of contact. He makes quick work of the buckle and pulls down hard at the fabric. And finally Dorian is bare from the waist up. “Maker’s breath you’re gorgeous.”
“That’s well and good, but I feel you’re a bit overdressed,” Dorian says, nodding at Cullen’s armor.
Cullen grasps Dorian’s red and unfeeling hands and smirks at the mage. “If you want it off, you take it off. It’s much simpler than it looks.”
Good morning, everyone!! (Or afternoon, or evening, or night, depending on where you are.) First prompt Saturday of Camp Cullrian is going to be officially underway as I start writing. I’m a little low on prompts, so if you could send some my way, I’d appreciate it! Remember, you can definitely go on anon too, if you don’t want me or anyone to know who wrote the prompt :D
Feel free to blacklist #Camp Cullrian to make my updates disappear, though I will post all the actual writings under the #Cullrian tag.
