In light of the controversy surrounding Cullen’s VA we felt it necessary to clarify that while we love Cullen Rutherford as a character, we do not support the actions or beliefs of his voice actor in any way shape or form. Thank you all
Episode 17 - read the story so far here
Cullen hisses as you sink down on his hard length, his head falling back against the headboard with a thump. He is propped up as you straddle him, your naked chests brushing together with each gentle rise and fall of your hips. You moan and grip his shoulders as he starts to move beneath you, thrusting upwards to meet each one of your downward strokes. You alternate between crowding over to kiss him fiercely, and throwing your head back as he lavishes attention upon your breasts. His lips never leave your skin for an instant as you ride him with abandon.
“Yes” you gasp as his firm hands grip your arse, guiding your movements with rising intensity and speed as you chase your end. Cullen groans as your grip on his shoulders tightens and you chant his name. Hot, panting breaths, whimpers and sighs of pleasure the only other noises as you act out your fevered passions. Till, with a silent scream you come apart. His own body shudders and he bites at your neck to muffle his groan as he climaxes beneath you.
“Maker how does this keep getting better” he praises and peppers your jaw with kisses as you both revel in the afterglow of your lovemaking.
“Mnnnn” You agree with a soft murmur. Your body resting against his strong chest while you remain joined and content on his lap.
Andy gives a disgruntled bark from her position outside of the room causing Cullen’s chest to shake in silent laughter.
“I guess someone is annoyed we locked her outside in the middle of the afternoon.” You say and laugh as you hear an answering “Woof!”
“Alright, alright!” Cullen says as you shift your weight from him. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips just before he slips from the bed and you tuck yourself back beneath the sheets. You bite your lip in an act of silent appreciation as his nude form crosses your line of sight towards the bedroom door.
“I’m going to take a quick shower,” he says as Andy bounds inside. Sitting herself down on the floor next to where you’re laid for a quick head scratch.
As the door to the bathroom closes Andy huffs. She looks at the closed door, her head tilting as the sound from the shower starts to filter into the bedroom and then bounds away.
You lay your head down on the soft pillows and, as you often do in post love-making clarity, praise every god for your good luck and for giving you a life with Cullen Rutherford. Just today he had made you a wonderful breakfast, rivaling the one from your cabin trip. He’d then ordered your favorite lunch from the local Deli, complete with cake. And, after having fallen asleep on the sofa for a quick food nap, you had woken to find a blanket tucked in around your body and your favorite nug plushie tucked under your arm.
You had strode into the bedroom to return the blanket Mr Pinky to their rightful homes and become distracted. Seeing Cullen reading casually in bed with glasses on, his shirt buttoned down and slightly askew had set fire to your desires and you at once sought to show your appreciation.
Huffing and snuffling from the vicinity of the wardrobe distracts you from your musings.
“Andy have you gotten stuck again?” You ask, propping yourself up on your shoulders to see what the now fully grown Mabari is getting up to. Her haunches and tail are just visible protruding from the wardrobe, the latter wagging furiously. After a few more seconds Andy raises her head and plods over with snort of triumph.
“What you got there, a lost toy?” You ask and she deposits a small saliva coated thing on the bed beside you.
“Soggy, nice.” You say as you absentmindedly pick up the square lacquered box. Your eyes widening in shock as you finally absorb the dimensions, it’s hidden location and the name of a prestigious jeweler finely embossed on the top.
You drop the box in your lap with a gasp. Covering your mouth with your hands as you hear Cullen groan “No!” from the now open bathroom door.
After waving off the bride and groom the plan had been to retire to your suite for lots of lovely sex. But then your favourite timeless classic, the cliched one that has and will forever be played at every single wedding ever, catches your ear and you just can’t resist dragging Cullen back to the party for one last slow dance.
It starts out rather respectably; one hand gripping his, your other on his shoulder and his on your hip. But with each swaying step you move a little closer. His hand strays from your hip to the small of your back, holding you close as you abandon his shoulder in favour of his neck.
You press your cheek to his chest, tucking your head comfortably beneath his chin, basking in the gentle vibrations as he contentedly hums along to the romantic melody. He slides the hand at the small of your back a little higher, sending a shock of pleasure to your core as his warm palm connects with your exposed skin. The almost-backless dress was a very good choice.
He lowers his head to press a kiss to your bare shoulder, then another, and another, working his way up towards your neck. You pull back slightly, encouraging his journey to continue on to your lips. You release his hand to wrap both arms around his neck, kissing him back with a little more enthusiasm than was probably acceptable in a room full of people.
Eventually, regrettably, you both surface for air, and the look on his face is one of pure unadulterated lust. You feel his fingertips biting into your flesh as his heated gaze inflames your loins. You have to have him.
“I think I’m ready to leave, now.” Before you’d even finished speaking he’d taken you by the hand and was quickly leading you out of the room and towards the elevators, hurling clipped farewells to everyone you pass. You’re practically vibrating with anticipation as Cullen drags you inside the already waiting elevator, a loan man having just stepped off.
“Hold the door!” Bran calls from across the foyer, and though Cullen imitates pushing the button he clearly has no intention of actually doing so. He gives his brother a half-hearted shrug as the doors close just before he makes it, and you just about manage to hear him humorously curse you both.
“You’re terrible.” You laugh, swaying slightly with the pleasant buzz of just-one-too-many glasses of champagne.
“I know.” He gorgeously smirks, setting you heart aflutter. “But I really wanted to do this.”
He pushes you back with a hand on your stomach until you feel the cool mirrored wall against your skin. His lips come crashing down on yours as his hands greedily roam your body, moaning approvingly when you lift his sporran to palm him through his kilt. He’s already hard, but before you get the chance to hear that hypnotic moan again the elevator comes to a halt and you quickly push him away to compose yourself as the doors slide open.
You squeal in surprise when he lifts you off the floor and proceeds to carry you, bridal style, to your door. Refusing to put you down he waits for you to unlock and open it, effortlessly carrying you inside then kicking it closed behind him.
You chuckle as he continues to carry you towards the bed. “You do know it’s the bride whose supposed to be carried over the threshold, yes?”
“Call it a practice run.” He winks, giving you a lopsided grin as he tries in vain to deny the blush currently lighting up his cheeks.
Maker’s breath! Had he really been thinking of such things? Though you can’t, in all honesty, say the thought had never crossed your mind. Cullen would make a wonderful husband, of that you have no doubt.
His grin has disappeared when your daydream eventually dissipates, replaced by a look of concern. “I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, “I shouldn’t have said - I didn’t mean to...” His brow furrows as he sets you down on your feet, looking every which way but directly at you.
“Cullen,” you mercifully intervene, hooking a finger beneath his chin to force him to meet your gaze, “how does a bubble bath sound?”
His immediate and genuine smile lights up the room before he pulls you in for a quick kiss. “I’d love that,” he says, “so long as I get to undress you.”
“I promised, didn’t I?” You make a show of licking your lips before turning to give him access to your zipper, feeling a gentle tug as he pulls it down. You could easily reach it yourself, but where’s the fun in that?
His fingertips caress your shoulder, the one with the strap, sensually dragging it down your arm until the front gapes and you are bare from the waist up. Thank the Maker you have such fantastic tits, ‘cause you never would have been able to wear this outfit with a bra.
His lips pepper your neck and shoulders with kisses as you finally shimmy out of your beautiful dress and let it fall to the floor. You turn to face him, looking quite the seductress in nothing but your high-heels and expensive lace panties. He holds you so tightly you can barely breathe as you engage him in a heated kiss.
“Patience, love.” You giggle, patting his chest until he disengages.
You exaggerate the natural swing of your hips as you walk towards the bathroom, making a show of bending over to turn on the taps and upend the complimentary bottle of bubble bath. He’s behind you almost as soon as you straighten up, one hand squeezing your arse and another cupping your breast as he buries his nose in your hair to sample its scent.
“You always smell divine,” he murmurs in your ear before taking the lobe between his teeth.
You feel the textured fabric of his kilt brush against your thighs as you turn to face him, your skin hypersensitive with yearning.
“You’re wearing far too many clothes,” you complain, deft fingers immediately moving to remedy the issue, not stopping until there is a satisfying pile on the floor.
“Wait!” you object when he starts to unfasten his kilt, “just let me get one last look at you in that thing.”
You take a few steps back, admiring his hard-earned physique and just how fucking amazing he looks in an outfit he was initially so very unhappy about. He’d felt much better about it after trying it on for you though… there may or may not have been a cheeky blowjob involved.
“Alright, you can take it off now,” you instruct, waiting with one hand on your hip as you watch for the grand unveiling.
You make a yummy moan of approval at the sight of his straining cock, unconsciously licking your lips as you begin to salivate. You know exactly how good he tastes, how warm and firm he feels sliding against your tongue.
You shake your head, freeing yourself from your lecherous thoughts as you notice the bath is as full as it needs to be. You turn off the taps then perch yourself on the edge to remove your shoes, smiling at Cullen as he does the same.
He insists on removing your panties himself, ever so slowly dragging them down your legs until you’re able to step out of them. He runs his palms up the backs of your legs until he reaches your arse, kissing a path back up your torso as he stands.
Soon enough, you’re both submerged in the fragrant bubbles. You fit quite easily in the giant corner tub, wedged between his legs with your back to his chest. You breathe deeply, once, twice, before a mental image of Cullen in his finery enters your mind and you remember just how badly you need him.
You rapidly reposition yourself, sploshing water over the sides of the tub as you straddle him. He stares unabashedly at your chest as he caresses your thighs, fingers suddenly biting into your flesh when you slide your slick core along his length.
He pulls you to him until your chests collide, kissing you passionately as the repetitive movements of his pelvis unconsciously stimulate your pearl. You’re fairly certain you could climax from this alone if allowed to continue, but you had something a little more interesting than dry humping - correction, wet humping - in mind for such a special occasion.
“I would like it noted for the record that I don’t like this,” Cullen grumbles, pulling up the zipper on the side of your dress. You look up at him and find his brows furrowed. You reach up to slide your finger between his brows and down the bridge of his nose. Moving your hand, you cup his cheek gently.
“Noted. I’ll only force you to help me dress when I can’t reach the zipper. And I promise I’ll save the unzipping of said zipper to you. Fair enough?” you ask, trying not to let the teasing show in your voice too much.
“Fair enough,” he agrees with a smile and a warmth in his eyes that makes you want to jump his bones.
You turn and look at yourself in the mirror, Cullen standing behind you. You’ve chosen a delicate dress in a dark crimson. The layers of tulle give it an airy and elegant look. It wraps around one shoulder and down your back in a sweep that makes it look as if it’s defying the laws of physics to stay up. The waist is tight and cinched with a ruched sash. The skirt flares out at your hips, giving you a classic hourglass figure. It falls just past your knees and flows around them as you walk.
The classic black heels you’ve chosen lift your backside just so and make your legs look fabulous. The thin ribbon straps around the ankle give the entire look a bit of whimsy.
“You look exquisite,” Cullen whispers in your ear before kissing your bare shoulder. You almost raise your hand but remember at the last moment that you can’t mess up his hair. Pity, that. Raising your shoulder slightly, you turn your head to brush your cheek affectionately against his temple.
“You look like a dream,” you murmur in response, turning to face him. The traditional Free Marches wedding attire is a foreign look on him, but it works. The kilt particularly gives you wicked ideas for later in the evening. You understand now why he likes you in skirts and dresses. Easy access and ideal fuel for the imagination. The navy, evergreen and black pattern is oddly flattering on him when usually warmer tones suit him more.
The jacket and vest accent his narrow waist and broad shoulders. Praise the Maker that you don’t have to torture yourself for hours wondering what he’s hiding beneath them. You are intimately familiar with every part of him now. Yet, you still can’t wait to explore him all over again.
The chain of the sporran around his waist follows the v of his sex lines though you would be the only one to know that. The fly plaid pinned with a pewter brooch on his shoulder looks perfect, but his bow tie hasn’t been done up yet.
You reach up to do so with confidence you don’t actually feel. You had to look this up last night. Trying not to acknowledge his eyes on your face, you concentrate on the motions. You adjust it in place and look up at him with a smile. “Perfect.”
“Indeed,” he murmurs, capturing your chin between his bent finger and thumb. He tilts your face up and captures your lips in an achingly soft kiss. You feel his sigh when he pulls away and opens his eyes slowly.
You both open your mouth and ‘I love you’ comes tumbling out at the same time. The butterflies in your stomach are back at it again. He just looks so…
Every syllable dripping from his tongue like so much honey, slow and smooth, the timbre of his voice wrapping around your heart and squeezing. The air rushes from your lungs. His eyes are honest, painfully vulnerable. Heat blooms within your chest, softly caressing outward as the shock vibrates down your spine, drawing gooseflesh in its wake. It feels like minutes have passed; you laying pressed beneath his weight, absorbing the magnitude of the moment, but it’s been mere seconds. He loves you. He loves you.
You whisper, hoarse and trembling, “Oh, Cullen…” Fingertips dancing over his rough cheek, tears spilling freely from the corners of your eyes, you sigh. “I love you, too. More than that… I think about you bloody constantly, you fill my dreams, I… I’m in love with you.”
The dam bursts. His eyes widen, the flush upon his skin deepens, and you watch as relief relaxes his shoulders, letting him sink even closer. The grin that stretches across his lips is almost ridiculously goofy. Like a little boy on Satinalia morning, wide and bright-eyed, close to a fit of giggles.
And when he kisses you, it’s not just passion on his lips but the full force of his heart, his love and longing, all the brief moments and memories gone by that he’s desperately wanted to say those words but didn’t. You taste them on the tip of his tongue, licking along the seam of your lips, on the salt and sweat of his skin. You feel it in the steel of his muscles beneath your palms as you hold him close, in the sheer weight of him settled there between your thighs. In the twitch of his cock, somehow freshly stirring.
He kisses you until you’re both gasping between giggles, forehead pressed to forehead, arms wrapped tightly around each other. “I have never felt anything like this,” he murmurs. “I’m in love with you, and I’ve never been so happy.”
You want to carve out this moment, build a monument to it in your memory. Hold on to it forever.
“Cullen…” Your hips roll involuntarily upward as you feel him stirring again. He responds in kind, slowly and steadily rocking, his breath coming in stilted, aroused pants. He whispers your name, nuzzles your cheek, tenderly kisses down your jaw and neck.
This time, when he makes love to you, it’s gentle and sweet. He takes his time, draws it out for what seems like hours, kissing and holding you, his thrusts agonizingly slow and it feels so, so good. He makes you feel more loved than you ever have. More precious than any treasure in Thedas.
After you’ve both found release, he rises and carries you, ever so gently, over the threshold to the bedroom. Lays you on the bed and climbs in beside you, tucking the duvet around you both, and draws you close to his chest. His powerful arm wraps over yours where it's held across your heart. Your pulse slows, the blissful haze of love and satisfaction settling deep into your bones like a brand.
In his arms, you’re whole. Safe, warm, and secure, you drift into the Fade with a final sigh on your tongue. “I love you, Cullen.”
~
The following week passes in a blur, the two of you unable to keep your hands off each other beyond service to normal bodily functions and meals. But on the last day of this exquisite vacation, you rise groggily from the bed, patting the space beside you to find it strangely empty.
“Cullen?”
Instead of your lover to greet you, Andy gallops into the room and delivers sloppy, wet kisses to your dangling feet. “Andy! Stop it, that’s disgusting!” You giggle despite the grossness, nudging her away with your knee so you can stand. “Go on,” you command her, “go find Daddy.”
She cocks her head and obediently leads you out of the room, the smell of bacon and snap-crackle of oil in a hot pan wafting through the air. Cullen stands at the stove, his back to you, barefoot and dressed only in his tight, black boxer-briefs. You pause for a moment, watching his sculpted rear as his weight shifts, the muscles along his back rippling with each movement. Savoring the view, you lean your elbows on the counter, face cupped in your palms, fondness on the curves of your lips.
“Mmm, that looks delicious.”
He doesn’t even flinch! How is he so impossible to sneak up on? Instead, he chuckles brightly, casting you a sly smirk over his shoulder. “The food, or is there something else whetting your appetite?”
“You know me too well.” You sigh, hands dropping to trace along the countertop as you drift toward him. Your arms encircle his trim waist, chest and cheek pressing to his strong back. A soft moan escapes him as your wandering fingers flutter over his abdomen and dip past his waistband. You cup him through the cloth, careful but teasing, feeling his twitch of interest.
“That…” He pauses, swallowing hard. “That may have to wait until later, love.” He nearly chokes on the words, they’re so difficult to say, but clearly whatever feast he has planned this morning is important to him so you relax and back away.
You find an empty place on the counter beside him and hop up, playfully swinging your legs as you scan the stove. He’s got the bacon out of the pan already, cooling on a plate with a paper towel to soak up the excess grease. On the back burner, an omelette cooks, and on the front, he’s watching the raw side of a pancake slowly bubble. Cullen hums thoughtfully and takes the pan handle, lifting it a few inches away from the heat. With a deft flick of his wrist, he flips the pancake, and it lands perfectly in the center. You laugh delightedly, charmed by both his skill and the smug grin on his face. Cocky shit.
Glancing over at the carved wood dining table, you notice fresh, sliced fruit garnishing the already-set plates. Coffee mugs and glasses sit waiting, the cream, sugar, butter, and syrup in the center of the table beside a glass decanter filled with juice.
All week long, you’d spoiled one another, alternating cooking meals both for each other and together, but never anything so large or thought-out. Mostly because you were both too impatient to get through them and rip clothes off again - on the rare occasions you were wearing any. But for this one, it seems he is going all out. Perhaps because it’s the last morning at the cabin? A nagging feeling lingers at the back of your mind, however. Like you’ve forgotten something.
“What’s the occasion?” you ask, eyes meandering back to him.
He stiffens slightly, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. The tell-tale rub of his neck completely gives him away; something’s definitely up. “Ah, nothing. I just wanted… um, this last day to be special. You know. Memorable.”
You laugh. “Cullen, this entire week has been memorable. I’ll treasure every moment for the rest of my life, I can promise you that.”
