I wanted to celebrate the start of fall with some Cullen and Inquisitor
sexy times. Told in a rare for me first person POV, the Inquisitor and
Cullen take a small holiday to a cabin out in the woods. When he comes
in from a long day tending to the woods, he sweeps his love into his
arms and carts her off to bed.
Motes of dust struck the golden light streaking through autumnal leaves. I watched each one’s sparkling fall as they came to rest upon the log pile beside the door. My focus should have been upon the book in my fingers, my body stretched across a divan to get into the perfect reading position. A cup of cinnamon tea cooled behind my head, masked by the leather throw pillow. While the creeping chill of oncoming winter circled the floorboards of the cabin, I ignored it. The cashmere sweater snuggling against my skin and piling at my wrists was certainly helping.
Licking my thumb, I moved to turn the page before realizing I once again failed to read it. Maker take me, but this cursed tome was dense. Squaring my shoulders, I prepared to dive in deep when the heavenly scent of the forest wafted on the breeze. An earthy but sweet musk, it sang of summer’s overgrowth entering its next stage of slumber. Ripping through the senescence of the rust-colored sky came the piquant acrid smoke of leaves burning to ash.
He’d been at it most of the morning, dressed in his thick cotton shirt to stave off the early dew. I gulped at the thought of Cullen having to break open the buttons in the autumn sun to reveal his white undershirt clinging to the hard-wrought sweat drenching his muscles. No doubt some would scoff at the Commander of the Inquisition breaking his back to try and tame the excess foliage, but Cullen seemed content.
At least until a crow flitted into the trees and seemed determined to harass him. I could hear the caws breaking from outside, and on occasion, Cullen shouting at the ‘Blighted thing’ to ‘shove off.’ Stretching my legs, the hem of the oversized sweater rose to display my lower thigh. Scandalous for the Inquisitor, but she was left behind at Skyhold. Hung up on the rack along with the armor bearing the eye. Here, it was simply me, a golden cabin creaking with fall’s perfect winds, and a man.
Also, a damn book I needed to finish. Digging deeper into the throng of gerunds and participles, I barely looked up at the whine of the screen door. It slammed back into place, trying to distract me, but nothing would. I was determined in my course. I would see this…
“What are you reading?”
Sigh. I wanted to be cross, but — slipping a finger between the pages — I glanced up and couldn’t be. His bullheaded yard work turned the golden lion of Skyhold dewey, the man nearly glistening head to toe. His sandy hair was adrift and mussed to one side, leaving my fingers aching to wrestle it back in place. The scruff that delighted damn near every woman who saw him was nearing a beard. While some would probably laugh at it, Cullen’s lighter hair leaning towards the splotchy look, I found myself enthralled with the barbaric feel of the fur scratching against my skin.
Here, in the woods, there was no political grandstanding, no ruffs, no corsets. Just a man, a woman, and no one around for miles to hear what that combination could get up to.
Cullen drew the back of his hand over his forehead, trying to wipe away the soot built up from the cremated leaves. It sort of worked, smearing off his face at least, and I had a better concept of what he’d look like as a brunette. Not my ideal. Those amber eyes that flickered through my mind like a candle in the dark honed in. He really wanted an answer.
Mayerine 