Chapter Text
There were two ways that Cullen spent his night. Restlessly, tossing in his sheets, a sweat having worked over his skin, leaving him hot to the core no matter how much cold the hole in the roof let in. He would mumble and moan in his sleep, nightmares of a previous life come back to taunt him. On most of those nights, he would awaken much earlier than the sun to pace his room for a couple minutes before starting the rest of his day. Reading and rereading reports until the nightmares were no longer his concern for the day. Ever since he’d stopped taking Lyrium, this sleeplessness was common. It would continue until his body shut down and forced him to pass out into a coma of exhaustion.
It wasn’t until he’d become more intimate with the Inquisitor- Evelyn, he corrected- did this change. First, when no one was sure of her innocence, but had no choice but to follow her lead, she had appeared in his dreams like a ghost. At the edges of his vision, whisping away like many spirits did. It was something real, something that helped ground him, to make him realize that this was only a nightmare, and he could awaken before a ghastly claw could close around his throat.
They’d become friends, and soon after that, more. She had no problem standing close or taking his hand in public, and didn’t seemed deterred when teased from her inner circle when she sweetly brushed his unruly curls from his face. These small things had been enough to chase the night terrors away, leaving him with only sweet dreams of her, which would have him waking up gasping for a different reason.
And when she laid down with him, wrapping her naked body around his own, stroking his skin even in her sleep, he found nothing could disturb him from his slumber except for her gentle kisses to his lips and temple. Her smile was brighter than the sun, and he wanted nothing more than to ignore their duties and keep that smile on her face forever, but eventually they would have to separate.
Tonight, Cullen found himself resting against her, his head resting on her chest while she wrapped her legs around his torso, contorting until every part of her touched every part of him. He wanted to ask if she was truly comfortable this way, but her fingers running through his hair, scratching his scalp, left him immobile, only able to softly moan into her skin.
He could feel her smile as she kissed his head, murmuring things too soft for him to understand. Her movements and breaths started to slow, until a few minutes later she was still, with her hand still tangled in his hair. It was Cullen’s turn to smile now, placing his own kiss between her breasts.
“Maker knows I don’t deserve you,” he said quietly, as to not wake his sleeping lover, “Nor your kindness, your soft glances or softer touches. Not the breathless moans as I worship you as you deserve, or the quiet laughs you try to hide behind your hands. I’m not worthy of the strength you lend to me, the way you pick up the broken pieces and place them back together as if it’s the most simple puzzle. I don’t deserve you, but Maker’s breath, do I love you.”
His hold on her, tight against him, goes somewhat slack as her hand continues to pet him. Groaning, he buries his face deeper into her chest, and he can feel more than hear the laughter he had mentioned only moments before.
“You were never asleep, were you?” It comes out no more than a mumble, but the woman somehow understands. Her lips ghost against his ear, her breath hot and perfect against his skin.
“No, but I’m glad I wasn’t.”
Her lips take hold of his lobe, earning a moan from Cullen, and his body is more than ready to respond when her next words stop his heart.
“You give me something to fight for, to look forward to every time I come back home. I stay strong so you never have to worry. I fear that if I don’t touch you, even in the smallest of ways, that I’ll wake up from this dream and never have you in my arms again. I love you more than my mediocre words can describe, Cullen.”
Her words, heart melting as they are, can’t compare to her actions as he flips them around to have her under him.
When he sets to work for the day, his eyes sport dark circles, his muscles ache from strain, and his head pounds. But not once does the gentle smile leave his lips as memory of his sleepless night with his love plays at the back of his mind. Those are the nights he likes the best.