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The sun has long since set, and they’ve been playing chess by the light of Dorian’s magic for hours. They’re standing up to leave—to head to one room or the other—when Dorian grins. He’s about to say something ridiculous and Cullen kisses Dorian because he can't help it, Maker's breath. That smile, smug, after cheating his way to victory.
Dorian tears himself away, has to tear himself away, because they can’t, not here. Mother Giselle is steps away and they’re still lit by the ball of light he’d summoned. "Amatus, we shouldn't—”
Cullen meets his eyes, and Dorian can see the hunger in them, the raw need. Cullen's voice is hoarse as he says "Kiss me." It’s a plea, desperate and needy. His tongue darts out, licking his lips. "Please."
Dorian never had a prayer.
He kisses Cullen softly and sweetly, holding his head in his hands, keeping him close. Cullen nuzzles at his cheek, his stubble rough against Dorian’s soft skin. He opens his mouth, an invitation if Dorian has ever seen one, and their kiss turns more passionate, heated.
A moment, and then it's Cullen's turn to back away. "I'm sorry, are you sure, here—" and he's cut off by Dorian's kisses.
Dorian presses a kiss to his nose. "You," he kisses his forehead, "Silly," his cheek "Insufferable," his other cheek "Wonderful," leaves a brief peck on his lips "Man." He punctuates it with a long slow kiss that has Cullen groaning and grinding up against him.
He stops though, pulls back to laugh because they're doing this here—within earshot of Mother Giselle. He almost wants her to find them, to see the wicked magister turning the brave commander with his wily ways. It'd ruin the old harpy's day.
They're both breathless.
He leaves a short, nearly chaste kiss on Cullen's cheek. "You're right though, we should stop."
Cullen stops, pulls back immediately, and the expression on his face makes Dorian feel like he’s kicked a dog. He grabs for Cullen's collar, tugging him in for one last kiss.
"Just for here. I want to drag you back to my room and see how long I can kiss you." Dorian nuzzles into the crook of Cullen’s shoulder and lays wet kisses along the line of his muscles. "See how many places on your body I can kiss you." He sucks softly on Cullen’s neck, feeling his pulse race under Dorian’s lips. "Lay you out on my bed and worship you with my tongue." He nips at the skin, and Cullen moans.
Cullen's voice is rough when he says, "No dragging required." He grabs Dorian’s hips and yanks, pulling Dorian into the line of his body, and they’re pressed together. His kiss is hard, searing and forceful, but quick too, and Cullen lets him go with a laugh. "You always know how to get my attention, love."
And the blood in Dorian's veins turns to fire.
Love.
It shouldn’t be earth shattering, but somehow… "My room. Now."