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Slow Burning Dreamer	By : Breathing2nd Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 3692 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 1-1
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Eleven
- 12-Twelve
- 13-Thirteen
- 14-Fourteen
- 15-Fifteen
- 16-Sixteen
- 17-Seventeen
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- 4
“There we go, last step.” Varric encouraged. His arm braced the lithe frame of the elven Inquisitor and helped her up to the landing of Skyhold’s Great Hall. A couple hours and several drinks later and Isala was glad for the dwarf’s help. She might have had trouble making it across the courtyard, let alone up all the stairs.
“Varric, how is it that you drank so much more than I did and yet, I’m the one needing assistance?” Isala warbled as they passed through the large, open doors.
Varric chuckled and gave a short shrug of his shoulders as he let go of her waist and began toward his little nook just inside the doors. “I’m convinced dwarves don’t have livers. That, and you weigh what? 80 pounds soaking wet?” He chuckled again and drew closer to the nearby fireplace.
“I weigh more than that! I’ll have you know.” Isala retorted, but it only furthered the dwarf’s amusement.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Inquisitor.”
"Speaking of sleep…good night, Varric.” She gave a short wave to her friend and made her way toward her own quarters. She could hear him echo her farewell as she walked away.
The halls were warmer the closer she came to her throne. She knew the staircase leading up to her room would be chilled slightly, but she was fairly certain she’d closed her balcony door and that her actual bedroom would be warm enough. With all the doors and windows that were always left aloft, along with the restorations that were still underway, she wondered how any part of Skyhold managed to hold any warmth at all.
“Magic.” She giggled to herself.
She was still smiling when a door opened to her left and figure stepped out, turning to take care in quietly closing the door. When he turned back around Cullen scarcely saw the Inquisitor before she nearly ran right into him. His arms were out in an instant. Papers he’d been holding scattered to the floor. He caught her in mid stumble and in one sharp breath, she was in his arms.
“Oh, pardon me…Inquisitor?” Cullen babbled as he juggled her weight easily in his strong arms. He gazed down at the slender elf he’d caught against him and felt a soft smile beginning on his lips. She was grinning, her cheeks flushed with as much color as he’d ever seen in them. Her striking turquoise eyes were stunning in the warm firelight and her pale hair seemed to glow. A few wisps of her hair had even managed to escape the bind she kept it back in to frame her face. She gazed up at him with a look that made him wonder if this was how she appeared in the first rays of dawn. He imagined her briefly with all that pale hair framed against his pillows as the sunrise spilled in through his window.
Cullen shook the fantasy free from his thoughts and straightened them both. “Maker’s breath, I didn’t see you there. Are you alright?” He asked, his hands resting against her body. He braced her back with one while the other cradled the curve of her hip. Her hands were pressed against his chest, splayed wide across the armor. He remembered those delicate fingers tracing the etching on the metal only just that morning.
“Better now.” Isala purred. She liked the way his hands felt against her body. They were large and warm and strong. She wanted to know what they felt like against her bare skin. She wanted them pinning her to her bed, fingertips gripping so tightly they left faint bruising in the morning. The elven Inquisitor licked her lips as her mouth went suddenly dry. “You’re up late.” The words came out breathy as she fought to compose herself.
Cullen’s hands loosened and fell away from her body, though he didn’t put any distance between them. Isala kept her hands up, but allowed them to follow the intricate path of paneling that was the Commander’s chest plate. She stopped as her fingertips grazed the top of the deep, almost wine colored, fabric that crossed his torso and disappeared into the taught belts at his waist. How long must it have taken to get out of such garments? She would have to ask Cassandra or Blackwall sometime. They were more versed in heavy armor than she was. Even the warriors of her clan did not have near to this many layers.
“Yes, well there has been some activity to the west that needed discussion and there were reports…” Cullen watched as her fingertips traced the gold embroidery that lined the fabric crossing his middle. Her hands were so delicate, but her movements were specific, expert, and distracting. “I won’t trouble you with the details, Inquisitor. It is late, as you said.”
“Isala.” She corrected. A single digit followed the shape of his belt buckle.
"Isala.” He echoed, his voice going soft as he breathed her name. She liked the way it sounded rolling off his tongue. Humans had a habit of butchering elvish words and names, but Cullen took care with her language, choosing to avoid saying it altogether if he felt he couldn’t say it properly.
“Escort me to my quarters?” She asked suddenly, gently, her eyes flicking toward the door that led up to her room. Cullen’s eyes followed hers and his mouth opened and closed as he thought it through. She could see the heat creeping up his collar and his eyes darted quickly to the floor. She saw him acknowledging the scattered papers he’d lost when they had nearly collided. She saw him considering her request, could almost see the struggle waging behind his warm, brown eyes. The elf didn’t wait for his reply. She let her hands spread out to slide up the edges of the tunic the Commander wore and she gently tugged him forward. Isala walked backwards, carefully climbing the short steps, while she pulled Cullen slowly along. She watched him moisten his lips with the tip of his tongue, heard him breathe the soft considerations of protest as he glanced back only once before they reached her doorway. He opened his mouth as if to speak the moment she reached behind her and opened the large wooden door. She pulled him as before as she stepped back into the entryway of her quarters. She felt him hesitate for a moment and knew that if he didn’t wish to come inside, she did not possess the strength or size to force the matter.
“Do you not wish to come inside?” She asked, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice.
“It’s not that…I…” His voice trailed off into uncertainty and Isala felt him balancing on the precipice of retreat.
“Do I frighten you?” She inquired, her own voice faltering and becoming unsure. The Commander’s eyes focused on her immediately.
“Of course not!” He said quickly. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to follow her, but what was to come next? Would it be proper of him? Would it be respectful to her? Cullen cursed his concerns and as she subtly tugged at him again. He let her, crossing the threshold of her door and into the landing at the base of her staircase. The door closed audibly behind them and echoed off the stone walls. Isala spared a single glance at the steps before them before deciding they were too many and she was impatient.
“This will do.” She muttered beneath her breath before pushing roughly against the human’s chest. The armor did not give beneath her fingertips, but the Commander did retreat against the sturdy wooden door. His back hit it roughly and he opened his mouth to question her sudden movements when her lips sealed over his. The kiss was urgent and demanding. Cullen made a sound as if he’d been caught off guard but his body reacted instantly. His arms knew precisely how to hold her, bracing the small of her back and the nape of her neck. Her slender hands cradled his face first but then slid behind his neck to draw him closer. She kissed him as if she could drink him down or crawl inside him. She kissed him like a drowning thing tasting air for the first time. There was such a need in the press of her lips, the flicks of her tongue against his own, as if she might die without his touch.
Cullen felt his own body react to her advances. His heart began to race, heat swept up his neck and across his cheeks, a dull ache began low in his middle as his pants grew tight across the front. They broke the kiss only to draw labored breaths.
“Maker.” Cullen swore softly as the Inquisitor bit gently at his lower lip. A feminine hand snaking down between them to glide over the taught press of him beneath his pants. She found him there, hard and ready but still sheathed behind the buttery soft leather. Her hand stroked the length of him and the sensation was dulled but not lost with the clothing acting as a barrier. The Commander groaned around her mouth as she rubbed against him, her hand looking for a way inside the leather pants.
Outside, in the Great Hall, a door echoed shut and a cultured voice called out to Cullen. It was Josephine, apparently having forgotten to get his seal on some sort of document. Isala could hear her fretting about the scattered papers, calling out to Varric, asking if he’d seen the Commander. Cullen hesitated, his lips parted over hers. Isala’s hand still gripped him against the leather, her thumb making small circles that were almost too much to bear.
“Come upstairs with me.” She breathed across his mouth. Her tongue darting out to trace a teasing line over his bottom lip. She could hear Varric drawing closer. Could hear him telling the Ambassador that he’d just seen Cullen speaking to the Inquisitor a few moments before. They weren’t far from her door now. Any moment they’d probably come knocking.
“I…can’t.” Cullen groaned.
“You can.” The elf protested, stealing another kiss from his willing mouth. Cullen closed his eyes and drew his hands from around her slender form. He placed them on either side of her shoulders and she stilled. The Commander opened his eyes and took a deep breath.
“It is not that I do not want to.” He lowered his forehead to hers and closed his eyes again, trying to calm his body and compose himself once more.
“Then what’s stopping you?” The Inquisitor asked, her voice losing the purr of seduction it had been carrying. Defeat was creeping in now and her hands lowered to her sides. She could hear Josephine just outside her door, debating with Varric over whether it was proper etiquette to come inside or simply knock and then debating on whether the knock could even be heard.
Isala sighed. She already knew the answer. “Never mind. Duty calls, I guess.” She murmured, drawing away from him slowly. Cullen let her. He opened his mouth to utter something but all he could managed was, “Inquisitor?” The elf raised a hand to stop him before he could say anything more.
“It’s alright, Commander.” She retorted, though her voice was distant as she used his title. “Go sign you document. I’m going to bed.” She’d already begun up the stairs before he could reach for her. She didn’t wait for his response, if there even was one to be had.
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Slow Burning Dreamer