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Insidious Seduction	By : Tanwen Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 5988 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Cullen.

Her mind returns to the name after Fen’Harel has put her to bed, tucking her in as though she were a child. For several hours (at least) she lies there in a half-dream, half-waking state, a contented pleasure humming through her veins. Sometimes, he reminds her that this state is his gift to her, a reward for performing her duties as his slave. He tells her how lucky she is that he gives pleasure back to her. She is never in any condition to do anything other than lie there and bask in those feelings.

Cullen.

Shaeri Trevelyan struggles to hold onto that name, to remember why it is important. Why Cullen is important to her. When she feels steady enough, she climbs out from beneath the soft and fluffy comforter to go back to the chair and dig out her journal. She sits cross-legged in the chair and flips through the pages until she finds the entry that will explain things.

The first night I spent with Cullen. Six months after and here there are words scratched out, rendered illegible by rough pen marks. The sentence finishes with Corypheus’ defeat.

Shaeri thinks she knows what she once wrote there but lets the thought slide away from her like water as she reads the entry.

Cullen approaches her with a soft reverence when they are both naked in her quarters. His touch is gentle, lingering, tinged with an air of wonder - as though he cannot believe this is happening. Shaeri wonders how long it has been for him. How long since he was intimate with a woman he cared for.

That he cares for her has been obvious to Shaeri for - for -

Some time. It does not matter how long.

Shaeri returns the caresses, touches the stubble on his chin, enjoying the rough sensation of it. She traces his face as though trying to memorize it - the strong, hard features, not soft and angular like -

She will not think of him.

The comparisons have been trickling in ever since Cullen undressed. How broad his shoulders are, how much muscle he carries. His thick hair and stubble. The way that he touches her, the way that he is seeming to seek permission before daring anything too bold. Solas never waited for permission.

She will not think of him.

Shaeri turns around and kisses Cullen, making it both request and permission. Her tongue slides into his mouth and begins a dance with his. Cullen’s hands come to rest on her shoulders, his grip tightening enough to hold her in place. He has accepted her invitation and she feels her stomach lurch at the excitement - at the thought of what is to come. Shaeri deepens the kiss, brings one of her hands up to tangle in his silky blonde hair. There is no space between her bodies and she feels the pressure of his increasing erection.

This pleases her greatly, and she shows it by dropping her free hand down to cup his thickening shaft. Cullen breaks the kiss, gasping, his head thrown back as he lets out a low moan. Shaeri feels the heat between her thighs increase, but she forces herself to keep her touch light, so as not to speed things up too much. It seems wrong, somehow.

Cullen takes the decision away from her when he kisses her again, his mouth hard and demanding. His hands slide down to her hips and behind to caress her rear, keeping their bodies pressed together. Shaeri wants to lose herself in it as he is clearly doing, but one of them needs to make sure that they make it to the bed.

Shaeri breaks the kiss and gives him a coy smile, lifting her hand up as she backs towards her bed, crooking a finger at him. Cullen follows eagerly, almost tripping over himself as he lies down. Shaeri presses both hands against his chest and swings her leg over so that she is straddling him, then shifts forward to take him inside her.

Cullen’s back arches and he lets out another low moan. Shaeri rocks her hips forward slowly, enjoying the feeling of his thick cock brushing against her sensitive walls. Another moan from Cullen, a hitch of breath, as she settles into a rhythm. Her hands continue to move, caressing, tangling in his chest hair. It is actually a selfish act - she has always found his voice to be sexy, and hearing his deep moans is nearly as satisfying as the feel of him inside her.

“Maker,” he breathes, and Shaeri redoubles her efforts, because if he can talk, he is not far gone enough for what she wants of him. Her hands stop their roaming and press down for additional leverage instead as she starts to fuck him hard. When he moans again, it is answered with one of her own. She feels her climax building and allows herself to be lost in it, allows her world to diminish to the heat inside her, the intimacy of a body against hers, the pleasure that a hard cock inside of her brings.

You wanted it raw, and hard, and you wanted to be hoarse from screaming when it is over.

She will not. Think. Of -

Solas.

Cullen moans loudly, hips thrusting upwards more rapidly than before, hands digging into her sides, and she falls over the edge a second later. She clings to the illusion that it was Cullen’s movements that caused her to climax. It will certainly seem that way to him.

When he is done - when they are both done - he smiles up at her with a tenderness that threatens to break her heart. She returns the smile despite her creeping guilt. She will not allow Solas to taint this. He left her and she has every right to seek happiness elsewhere.

The comparison comes again in the morning, when Cullen kisses her awake before dawn so that he can return to his own quarters. Solas had never left in such a manner. Her quarters were also his.

This time Shaeri allows the comparison to come, because suppressing all thoughts of Solas will not help her get over him. Allowing herself to be consumed by Cullen will not work either - she risks losing herself, that way. She must find a way to build a partnership with him. Something new, something that strengthens both of them.

It seems an impossible task, but she is the Inquisitor, and impossible tasks are her bread and butter.

It was working. We were happy together. It was working, until the Exalted Council.

Until Solas came back into her life. Until he changed her life, again.

At the bottom of the page is a single line, in rough handwriting. Cullen loves me. As though this is a separate concept that she needs to be reminded of.

Shaeri has brought out the pen stashed along with the journal. She puts the pen to the page after that single line and tries to write the logical conclusion to that sentence, to her journal entry. Tries to write down that she loves Cullen.

The ink blots the page in an uneven pattern as her hand shakes. Shaeri puts it down and takes a handful of deep breaths. If she says it aloud, first, perhaps that will help.

But she cannot do it. “I love -“ and there she stops, feels herself shaking again. “Templar, Knight-Commander, Commander of the Inquisition’s forces,” she says. “I love -“

Had she? Had she ever loved him? Or was he just a substitute, a poor imitation of the man she truly loved?

It takes her some time to realize that the thought is not entirely hers. Solas - Fen’Harel - has been conditioning her. It takes an effort to remember that, to think of it as conditioning and not something more pleasurable.

Shaeri forces herself to think that she had cared for Cullen, at least, since she cannot reach the concept of love. That she had respected and admired him, for -

An image floods her mind, one of her standing in front of Cullen’s desk wearing a see-through gown. She is smiling wickedly at him, coy and enticing. She is a wicked temptress, brazen and shameless in her attempts to bend men to her will through sex. Cullen’s eyes are practically bulging out of his head as he stammers words that she cannot understand. Shaeri ignores the words as unimportant and sits on his lap, leaning in to kiss his neck. “You want me,” she whispers to him. “You desire me above all others.”

I want Fen’Harel. I desire Fen’Harel above all others.

The image of Cullen fades and Shaeri comes back to herself. The journal and pen have fallen to the floor and her fingers have found her way to her cunt.

“I belong to Fen’Harel,” she says aloud, and feels a surge of pleasure at the words. Yes. She has to do this. She has been wicked, bad, in thinking of someone other than her Master. “I am his devoted slave.”

Shaeri’s head tilts back against the chair as she shifts to make herself more comfortable, give her fingers more access to her cunt. She has the sensation of having done this before, having worked herself up with thoughts of Fen’Harel. To cement her obedience to him, her desire to please him in all things. She remembers what it feels like to be in his presence. She remembers him manipulating the ties that bind her to him to heighten her pleasure without laying so much as a finger on her. Shaeri basks in his reflected glory, in the memory of what he can (and has) done to her.

Her trembling fingers finally find their way to her clit and she works at it frantically. Shaeri moans, her breath hitching. Dim memories suggest that she should be climaxing right now, but she is still uncomfortably on the edge. Waiting for something that she cannot consciously reach.

So she lets herself unconsciously reach it. She is not thinking, she is wholly focused on the act of pleasuring herself. But this, too, is a gift from Fen’Harel, the ability to evoke these feelings in herself. And like all such gifts, it comes with a price.

Shaeri does not think the words. She does not decide to recite them, as she suddenly feels she has done countless times before. They simply begin to pour out of her.

“I serve Fen’Harel. I worship Fen’Harel. Fen’Harel owns me. Fen’Harel controls me. I want to be owned. I want to be controlled. I live only to serve him. I live only to do his will.” She is biting her lip. She has to finish her litany, but her body knows how close she is, and is demanding release.

Release is not hers to give. It is Fen’Harel’s.

“I love Fen’Harel. I love his power and glory and wish only to worship and obey him. Fen’Harel loves me. Fen’Harel prizes me above all others for being his devoted slave.”

One more, just … one …

“This is what I wanted, from the very beginning. I always wanted him to make me into his slave.”

Shaeri screams as her climax breaks, her back arching as she puts pressure on her hand. Fingers are a poor substitute for her Master’s cock, but they must suffice. Every time she does this, it makes her a better slave, more devoted to her Master, and when she is wholly devoted to him, she will be permitted to be by his side always. The thought makes her shiver in the aftermath of her intense climax. She wishes her body was more resilient so that she could start again, hasten the process, but she is only human.

Not like him. She remembers times where he has done something similar to her, pushed her until she screamed and begged. And after he had given her time to recover, he had started all over again.

She wishes that he were here, now, to see how good she is being for him.

But her body betrays that desire and drags her into sleep.
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Insidious Seduction