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I Will Protect You

“I distantly recall requesting ten silk scarves for this,” the seductive undertone to the lilting voice drifting from his bed drew a shudder from the man just entering his quarters, finding himself to be in no way alone. “Then again, I suppose I can make an excuse just this time. I’m sure such a demand would be hard to meet on the salary of a Commander.”

Cullen jumped softly in the darkness, attempting as best he could to will away the sudden goose flesh he had acquired. The voice of the Tevene Mage was closer now, much closer. He could feel the warm breath on his neck, a giveaway to the proximity of the lips that descended on the Commander’s neck a minute later. They nearly ripped a moan right from his throat, the man’s eyes rolling back as hands so hot they almost burned began caressing his sides and front. Lower and lower they went with each move, every passing second. Dorian had always been rather good at seducing his partner in… Well, in every situation. 

“Dorian, I have… The papers need signed or-"oh, Maker, don’t do that, ”-or Josephine will have my head,“ he attempted protesting. Still, he knew his efforts were in vain as he felt himself being pulled over to bed. His feet seemed to have a mind of their own as they moved step by step, following the hand tugging him along all too willingly. 

"Mm, that’s always far easier to do in the daylight, wouldn’t you agree?” Came the reply, as well as the soft creak of the mattress as Cullen fell back into the covers of his bed. Maddening, that’s what this Mage was. Driving him right to the edge like this when there were things to be done, things that were necessary, things that the Commander couldn’t stop even if he wanted to…

That single thought seemed to push away Cullen’s reservations as he let the buckles of his vambraces come undone, followed closely by his cloak and breastplate. He held himself together quite nicely as the Mage undressed him slowly, agonizingly slowly, despite his weakening protests of having work to complete. Yet everything crumbled apart when Dorian dropped to his knees before the blonde, bending to unbuckle the boots, but not before lifting the ex-Templar’s undershirt just enough to press a string of kisses from his navel all the way to the waistband of his breeches. 

That did it.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Cullen pushed Dorian back by the shoulders, making him loose his balance on bent knee and tumble rather gracelessly to the floor. Now sprawled on his back, the Mage opened his mouth to complain before he found himself cut off by a gasp instead. The Commander had not hesitated to drop down and climb on top of his partner, bodies meshed together, grinding his hips against the once-noble man below him. For someone who had once been so high on the social food chain, Dorian seemed to enjoy being treated rather roughly, as was evident both now and that night when Cullen had retired to his chambers only to find the Mage had gotten into the Inquisition’s supply of rope. Quite literally, at that. 

The world seemed to spin around them for a moment. It took the Commander a moment to realize that said spinning had been the result of his own actions, which led to Dorian now laying on his desk instead of the hard, freezing floor. The Mage smirked up at his eager partner when candles, quills, and dozens of documents were sent tumbling to the floor, crinkling in on themselves.

“Oh, Commander, after Josephine took all of that time to write those up,” he sighed almost wistfully, mocking the complaints that Cullen had voiced earlier. The other simply laughed.

“I’ll tell her I left them out in the rain. They tend to do that when they get wet,” he said. Dorian groaned at the awful pun, which transformed into a sweet moan as kisses were trailed softly down his neck. Oh, Cullen, such a gentle lover he could be at times. But… The odd tingling sensation left behind by the fingers running down the man’s sides was new. New and very, very strange. The Mage pushed up on the other’s chest only to find his arms being held gently but firmly over his head. When he felt teeth sink into his lower lip, Dorian pulled his head to the side to escape the sudden roughness, tearing open a small cut in his mouth that began to bleed fresh and strong. 

“Fasta vass,” he cursed, wrenching his arms free from Cullen’s grip and backing away quickly. The torches lining the walls on the Commander’s office sprung to life as the Mage’s power spiked in self-defense. He steadied himself against the wall as the Templar’s nullification ability reacted, causing a small yet audible “pop” to resonate all around. Still, even as the room spun around him Dorian never took his eyes off of his partner, suspicion flashing in the eternal storm that raged in the grey irises. “Care to explain yourself?”

Cullen murmured something in reply, but it was too soft to be heard properly. He refused to meet the rather cross glare he was receiving. It wasn’t as if he needed to look up to see the accusations being thrown at him silently. The way Cullen so pointedly avoided his lover’s gaze surely made him seem guilty as sin itself, so much so that he could feel the tension in the air ease as Dorian softened. 

“You’re not telling me something.”

“I said I was sorry and I don’t know what came over me-”

“That’s not what I meant.”

The tone the Mage had taken was callous, demanding the truth and nothing more. The sudden harshness to the man’s voice forced the Ferelden to look up at last, cursing himself under his breath as their eyes locked. Trapped, that’s what Cullen was, pinned to the spot by Dorian’s look. After almost a whole minute of silence, the latter turned away.

“You said there would be no more secrets.”

“I know, and I meant it, really I did! Ask me anything, anything at all, I’ll tell you.”

“What are you not telling me?”

“…Anything but that?”

“Unbelievable,” Dorian scoffed, turning on heel and walking toward the door, grabbing his top robe off of the Commander’s chair. Cullen groaned, running a hand through his hair as he ran for the door first, cutting off his partner’s escape. That left him directly in the way of a rather powerful pyromancer whose glare alone could have incinerated the blonde to nothing more than a pile of worthless ash. 

If only that were the case.

Thankfully, the Mage seemed to not take notice of the faint pained expression on Cullen’s face. He rolled his eyes, stepping back with his arms crossed over his chest. “If you’re quite finished?”

“Wait…” the Commander began, hesitating. Dorian raised an eyebrow yet did not move a muscle as he waited for some sort of explanation. For a moment, it seemed as though there was a war raging on in the Commander’s eyes. Was he faced with some sort of dilemma? After a while, Cullen’s shoulders sagged, and he looked just as weary as he did at the end of a battle. “I…” He heaved a great sigh before looking up at the other man again. The sincerity in his features was almost overwhelming. “I love you.”

So simple a statement, yet it was enough to stun the Mage into silence for once in his life. He softened at last as Cullen continued, biting at his lower lip. Odd, he had never done that before. Dorian elected to ignore it, chalking it up to his nervousness. The sharp, metallic taste of his own blood still registered on his tongue from Cullen’s earlier roughness.

“I know what this is,” the Commander went on to say, hand instinctually raising to rest itself on the pommel of a sword that wasn’t there. His fingers hovered for a moment, almost unsure of what to do with themselves before falling to rest loosely at his side once more. “I know what we are. Stress relief, isn’t that right? Another person to sleep with at night, so maybe we both don’t have to feel alone. This wasn’t our choice, it’s what we’re forced to choose. Not just you and I, but the Inquisitor as well, and Josephine and the Iron Bull and…” Cullen hesitated, taking a deep breath before a small, uneasy smile graced his lips. “We only have what we were given. I’m sure that a Templar from Ferelden wasn’t your idea of a future. It’s alright, mine wasn’t a Mage from Tevinter who cheats at chess. But, for what it’s worth, I think it worked out alright. More than alright, I think it worked out just right. Call it what you want, fate or destiny, it doesn’t matter, but the chances of both you and I being right here, right now… I’m positive it has to be more than just luck. I don’t want you to leave, but I don’t want to tell you all this because I know where you stand on the subject and I’m not trying to-“

A pair of lips cut off Cullen’s speech, which had taken a nosedive into a nervous ramble. Dorian waited until he felt the blonde relax before finally pulling away, their foreheads resting together. He gave a half smile.

“I don’t think you do.” “Don’t think I do what?”

“Know where I stand on the subject,” the Mage whispered. “Not anymore, that is,” he said. Dorian’s heart was beating furiously in his chest, the confession having been almost the exact same words he himself had been struggling to say to the blonde for the past few weeks. “I love you, Cullen,” he said, grinning happily as their mouths met once again excitedly.

The kiss was soft and slow, the pyromancer’s hands coming up to cup Cullen’s face, warming his cheeks while the Commander’s arms snaked around Dorian’s waist to draw him closer. The energy between them was no longer destructive or defensive as it had been mere minutes ago. Now it was gentle, caressing them both as the lights began to dim once more. Their tongues mingled together after a short while, and Dorian could taste both his blood and Cullen’s in his mouth now. When at last they pulled away, both men were more breathless than they had ever been before. The Mage drew closer to his lover, resting his head on Cullen’s shoulder while the blonde himself took a shuddering breath, muscles tense. Dorian was about to question it when he felt the hold on his waist tighten. He simply smiled and closed his eyes, leaning into the blonde, completely content.

“I love you, too, Dorian,” the man repeated, “and that’s why I’ll protect you…” Removing one arm, he drew something from his pocket. The scent of burning flesh filled the air, accompanied by an odd sizzling. Cullen’s hand travelled up the pyromancer’s chest, and for a moment it seemed as though he was going to place a hand over his partner’s heart. “…No matter what.”

Dorian’s eyes flew open and his lips parted in a silent scream as a red hot piece of scrap metal bent into a sunburst pattern was pressed to his neck. His body went rigid in pain and shock as he felt a kiss being pressed to his cheek, as well as whispers of “I’m sorry”, “please forgive me”, and “you’re safer this way” being spoken into his ear. The world around him lurched violently and the Mage suddenly became heavier in Cullen’s arms. Dorian could do nothing but dig his fingers into the front of the Commander’s coat in agony, thumbnails scraping against the metal chest plate. Tremors wracked his body, which soon escalated into full convulsions as pain shot through his body. The sensation could only be described as someone tearing his body apart.

Soon, the torches in the room began to extinguish themselves. One by one they flickered out, lifeless darkness taking their place. When at last the veilfire had disappeared, the candles were next. One by one they went, in equal intervals. As Dorian drifted further and further from the Fade, more and more candle flames blinked out of existence. It was like some sick countdown that Cullen couldn’t take his eyes away from. He watched as his lover was plunged into emotional emptiness, and when the last candle flame winked out, regret overwhelmed him. The makeshift brand of Tranquility, still agonizingly hot against Cullen’s palm, dropped from his hand and clattered to the floor. The noise echoed through his chambers like the clang of a bell. What had he done?

“Dorian?” he asked cautiously, pulling away slightly from the unconscious man to look at him. “Can you hear me?”

For a second, there was no response. Then, slowly, his eyelids began to flutter. Cullen watched with baited breath, hoping he had failed, praying that something had gone wrong and when those eyes opened they would be full of anger, betrayal, that he would see the storm rage on in irises the color of darkened rain clouds. He wanted Dorian to yell at him, scream at the top of his lungs as he condemned Cullen for his betrayal and accused him of being the monster he truly was…

“Can I assist you in some way?”

The Commander’s heart plummeted when he heard the emptiness in the Mage’s voice. When at last he was able to look into his eyes again, he could see no trace of emotion, no swirling of clouds, no sparks of lightning within them. There was no passion, no life. The color wasn’t right, either. They were a shade lighter than they ought to be, and as flat as the cover of a book. There was no depth, no hope, no…

No love.

“I’m sorry,” Cullen whispered, brushing his fingers through Dorian’s hair and down his cheek. The man he knew would have pushed him away, chastised him for mussing his appearance. The new Dorian did nothing, only stared back blankly. “I’m so, so-“

“You shouldn’t waste your breath, he can’t understand you.”

The deep voice that resonated from behind the Commander made him stiffen. He held the Mage, no, the Tranquil man closer to himself. He tried as hard as he could to ignore the magister’s words, focusing only on the person in his arms. Corypheus continued anyway.

“He doesn’t know why you’re apologizing, you’re only hurting him more by trying to make him understand something he doesn’t.”

“I never wanted this. I only wanted to keep him safe, I didn’t know…” Cullen snapped back, nuzzling his nose against Dorian’s cheek. There was no reaction to his gesture, all he received was an empty stare.

“You wanted to keep him safe. He would have turned against you in the end, you would have been forced to kill him otherwise. You knew what you were doing, Cullen. This isn’t the first time.”

“I never knew what it was like. All those Mages, all those people. The Order-“ he gasped in pain when the darkspawn magister walked around in front of him and raised a hand. Cullen’s eyes briefly glowed scarlet, and shards of glowing red stone ripped through his chest plate, right where his heart was. It continued to grow until the Red Templar coughed up blood. Corypheus released him at last.

“I need a Commander for my army, not a weak-willed Templar. I have enough of those,” he said, turning to leave. Cullen, who had been hunched over desperately trying to catch his breath, lurched forward. He nearly knocked over Dorian, who had gotten up already and was trying to help his “master”.

“W-wait!” the blonde said, taking Dorian’s hand and searching his empty eyes once more. At last, he looked away. “You said you would fix him, when this is over. You promised that if I did this and led your army, Dorian would be safe. Can you reverse this?”

“I am able to reverse the process,” Corypheus said. His lips shifted into a cruel smirk. “But whether I will or not depends on how quickly I receive results,” he said. Cullen held his tongue, nodding once.

“When do we strike?” he asked. How quickly Corypheus received results? What did that mean? The siege of Skyhold had been in the works for months, and by his and Samson’s calculations the attack could last anywhere from five to eight days with heavy casualties. “Fast results” didn’t exist in terms of a battle this large. Cullen felt his lover’s fingers twitch as he held them with his own, almost like a silent plea not to go through with this. Sparing one last glance at Dorian, he turned away, watching as Corypheus vanished in a cloud of smoke with one word ringing around the stone room.

“Dawn.”

#whyyyy did i do this #oh god im so sorry #cullrian #cullen rutherford #dorian pavus #dragon age inquisition #dai #dark cullen #red lyrium!cullen #my writing #writingarchive #cullen/dorian

29B [Cullen/Mage!Your Choice]

picture prompt | 29B

Kirkwall was one of the darker cities in all of Thedas- crime, despair, blood magic. Sometimes it was hard to tell right from wrong, and even harder to tell if you were wandering off the moral correct path. For Cullen, the templar order had been a stabilizing thing in such a dark city- a way to anchor him to his own sense of right and wrong. Even so, it was hard not to get wrapped up in the fervor that had taken over the order- against blood magic, with Meredith's words echoing in everyone's heads.

Perhaps this was bound to happen, with Cullens' sense of power and more Lyrium running through his veins than was no doubt healthy. Idris had been tied to the bed of a cell- the rope tight around their wrists. Their staff taken off them, their clothes ripped off and just... left in Cullen's care. Sure there were guards at the door but they knew better than to enter. Cullen's thick, impressive cock was slamming inside the elf, nice and deep- filling him up to the brink again and again. He'd heard of such...indulgences in the circle- away from everyone and everything- intimacy might have been banned but it still happened but this was the first time Cullen's willpower had broken, and he'd actually given in.

"You like that big cock, my pretty apostate whore?"

#ch: cullen #dark cullen