Welcome to DWC! I participate as nerdanel01. :) “Not sure if you could tell, but I’m not exactly a people person.”
Dragon Age Prompt | DWC.“Not sure if you could tell, but I’m not exactly a people person” for @nerdanel01 and DWC @dadrunkwriting Rating: Mature.Pairing: Cullen Rutherford/Valina Voclain.Word Count: 1,527.Tags: Established Relationship, Post-Doom Upon All the World, Pre-Trespasser, Flirting, Dancing, The Winter Palace, Prompt, DWC.
‘I can’t believe you talked me into this,’ Cullen muttered, pulling at the jacket, wishing again that’d he’d arranged to have it taken out. He glanced at Valina when she brushed his arms aside, hand trailing over the blue sash of his Inquisition garb.
He allowed his eyes to trail over her again – perhaps for the hundredth time that night – before he snapped his head up again. He had to look away, knew all too well she’d capture him in her shining eyes if he dared meet her gaze.
‘You’re in a particularly sour mood tonight,’ she said, leaning closer, the warmth of her body reassuring, reminding him that this time he would not be left to fend for himself, but he had to admit he was peeved that she’d dragged him along.
Cullen clenched his jaw, looking pointedly at the wall behind her. ‘Not sure if you could tell, but I’m not exactly a people person.’
A wicked smirk curled on her lips as she traced the firm curve of his jaw, nails tickling his stubbled cheek, the warmth of her caress easing some of the tension from his knotted brow.
‘Relax, handsome,’ she whispered, lips brushing against his ear as she leant closer, ‘not even an hour from now we’ll retire to our suite, and I’ll be sure to reward you for your good behaviour.’
He caught the promise behind her words and felt his stomach dip. He’d endured three hours in the ballroom so far, distracting himself with Valina’s reassuring glances and the positively scandalous dress she wore. Flouncy pastels were all the rage in Orlais according to Josephine but Valina had laughed when the ambassador suggested she try to blend in, waving her off and already planning to send a letter to Eve, a talented young seamstress under the Voclain’s employ and patronage, asking for an outrageous dress.
The clingy Highever Weave dress was matched beautifully to the striking Inquisitorial jacket, which was, coincidentally, the extent of Cullen’s understanding of fashion, gleaned mostly from Eve’s excited chatter at the final fitting that afternoon. The rest of his analysis was made mostly by heated looks he’d stolen when she’d dressed in their quarters ready for the ball and, Maker, he’d almost had her out of it before she’d pulled the straps over her shoulders. More than half of the garment was practically see through, giving tantalising glimpses of her muscled thighs and stomach. As far as Cullen was concerned, it was held together with lace and hope, the neckline following the high curve of her breast before plunging to her waist, the back open to reveal the strong muscles in her shoulders, the dips and hollows he’d traced countless times with his tongue–
The firm stroke of her fingers against his jaw dragged him out of his thoughts, and she arched her eyebrow at him as she waited for him to speak.
‘Fine,’ he said, finally turning his head to face her, letting her coax him into her embrace, ‘but I still don’t understand why I had to come.’
‘Malakar needed eyes and ears for the Inquisition here tonight. This is the first ball since Corypheus’ defeat. We need to know what Orlais is whispering behind our backs.’
That was true. Lingering effects of the Breach were still being felt throughout Thedas. The Inquisition was leading the clean-up efforts, but there was concern that their presence would soon be perceived as a threat by Orlais.
‘I’m no good at this game, Valina. I can’t talk to them like you do.’
‘People talk to me, yes, but they are scared too. On guard, even more so than they would be normally. Having you at my side means they’re too busy thinking about the rumours to worry about what I might see or hear.’
‘I just– every time I come here more letters end up on Josephine’s desk asking about my family and my–’ He cleared his throat, red creeping up his neck– ‘I don’t like it here.’
‘I’m sure we can make the letters stop.’
‘You can’t just wipe out half the Orlesian court–’
‘Cullen Stanton Rutherford, you wound me with your assumptions,’ she purred, ‘I have much better methods to coerce a response, and most of them don’t even involve a dagger.’
Somehow, that wasn’t reassuring coming from the rogue affectionately nicknamed ‘Vicious’ by Varric.
She took hold of his hand then turned away, dragging him in her wake, a startled sound escaping him when he realised what she intended.
‘You once asked me to dance on this very floor,’ she said, glancing over her shoulder at him, a wicked smirk lighting her lips when she saw that scarlet colour rise from his neck to his cheeks, ‘perhaps it is time we finally shared that dance.’
His thoughts scattered, protests reduced to a sharp exhalation born from mild panic when Valina led him into the middle of the ballroom floor. Hair prickled on the back of his neck to feel so many gazes settle on them, whispers breaking through the song to reach his ears as she turned to face him again, stepping closer until they were chest to chest. She held his hand firmly, using the other to position his arm around her waist before she reached up to catch his chin in her firm grasp.
‘Focus on me, Cullen,’ she whispered, turning his face to her own, away from the gawking crowd. He stared down at her as she settled her hand on his shoulder, stared into the depths of her serpentstone gaze, finding peace within bright eyes that shone with mischief, and soon they were dancing.
The longer he looked into her eyes, the faster the colour on his cheeks receded, the bolder he grew until he took the lead from her. He couldn’t deny that he’d dreamt of this moment since the first night they met, had dreamt he’d had the courage to ask her first rather than let Leliana do the work, but he could not regret this moment with her, the unmasked delight on her face and the inviting warmth of her body. It was thrilling to cradle every curve so intimately against his, that wicked smile never leaving her lips as she stared into his gaze until it began to melt to gold.
He finally realised how Leliana had picked that she was a rogue just by their dance all those months ago. She moved fluidly, despite a less than elegant dance partner, her grip firm and reassuring as they twirled across the floor. There was a sureness in her stride, in her footing even when on her toes. She trusted in her body, in the unwavering strength of her legs and core to move through the twists, turns, and fast foot work of the energetic dance style that put a lot of onus on the counterpart rather than the lead.
Soon, the floor cleared entirely, couples stepping away, tittering excitedly at the display as the Lion of Ferelden and the Raven of Orlais stole the night.
Halfway through the song, a smile tugged at his lips, and he wondered if – Maker, really? – he did actually like dancing. Or perhaps, he thought, he just liked dancing with her, even if ‘dancing’ didn’t seem to adequately describe the harmony with which they moved together.
When the final notes of the song echoed through the room Cullen dipped her low, leaning over her as their chests heaved with exertion from the fast paced dance. He hardly noticed the polite applause that surrounded them as he lifted her from the pose, breath mingling as their noses touched.
She clutched at his shoulder, nails biting at his skin even through the thick fabric of the jacket. He reached up, one hand weaving through the loose curls at her nape as he closed the distance between them. He claimed her mouth in a fierce kiss, tongues seeking, teeth clicking as he shifted one hand to her back, drawing her tighter against his chest, moulding their bodies until he could feel nothing else but her, the strength of her embrace, the sweet drag of her nails across his neck and the back of his scalp, and before he knew what he was doing he eased his leg between her knees, settling her heat against his thigh, the hand on her lower back pressing her closer until a moan slipped from her lips. He devoured the sound like a man starved, the outpouring of passion in the kiss leaving them both breathless when they finally broke apart.
‘That should take care of any rumours,’ Valina whispered, catching his bottom lip between her teeth, stealing a final kiss before she released him, ‘and those letters should stop for a time at least. All those covetous nobles that keep bothering you will be sending me death threats instead.’
‘I’m sure you’ll send a few of your own back,’ he rumbled, dragging her tight against his side before he swept her towards the door, uncaring of the scandalised whispers and wide-eyed gazes that followed them as they left the ballroom.
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