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Cullen dragged the damp, lemon-scented cloth over the counter for what must have been the hundredth time that hour. It was a dismally quiet night. He’d already refilled the coffee grinders, loaded the dishwasher, restocked the sugars… there was little more he could do. The couple of customers he had were well tended to and the coffee shop was cleaner than it had been all week.
Sighing, the blonde glanced out of the windows. It was still pouring down outside. The rain was lashing against the glass and forks of lightning lit up the sky every so often. It was a freak summer storm and it was responsible for one of the most boring shifts of Cullen’s life.
“Still not cleared up?”
Garrett appeared out of the back, shrugging a leather jacket over his uniform. He too looked to the windows and he scoffed at the sight of the downpour.
“You brought your car tonight, right?” Cullen grinned. “Or is it a very wet ride home on the mean machine?”
Garrett laughed, shaking his head.
“No, I need to grab some groceries on the way home so I brought the car,” he replied. “I promised Fenris I’d have something other to cook than noodles when he comes over tomorrow.”
At the mention of noodles, Hawke’s eyes drifted pointedly up towards Cullen’s hairline. The blonde groaned and gave his co-worker a reprimanding shove.
“Shut up with that, will you,” he muttered. “And get going. Your shift ended ten minutes ago. I can manage by myself.”
“I’m only teasing you, Cully,” smirked Garrett, as he fished a bunch of keys out of his pocket. “Your hair’s not half as noodley since you discovered straighteners.”
Cullen flushed – how did he know?! – and cursed under his breath.
“Goodnight, Hawke,” he ground out. Hawke grinned and tossed a wink in Cullen’s direction.
“Have a fun evening,” he chuckled. “If I’m not in for my shift on Monday, tell Leliana it’s because I drowned in this hurricane, ok?”
And, squaring his shoulders, he was out of the door. Cullen watched him running full pelt across the street to where his car was parked, the rain bouncing off his leathers.
A quick glance across the room revealed one of his customers had left during his exchange with Hawke. Cullen wandered over to clear his table and was just carrying the tray of dirty crockery back to the counter when the door opened again. Surprised, the blonde looked up and he was met with the sight of a very damp but very attractive man sidling up to where he stood.
“Hazelnut latte,” the man murmured. “Skinny, if you please.”
Cullen simply blinked. Maker, if he wasn’t the very definition of gorgeous. His clothes, whilst soaked and clinging to his skin, were the height of fashion. He had dark hair – which was currently dripping water into his slate-coloured eyes – and a well-groomed moustache above his mesmerizing lips. He quirked a brow at Cullen when the blonde didn’t reply and Cullen felt himself blushing again.
“Er, sure, right away,” he muttered, shoving the tray full of dirtied dished to one side. Then, because it seemed like the decent thing to do, he added, “I, er, can I get you a towel or something? It’s pretty wild out there.”
The man huffed out a soft laugh.
“Thank you but I’ll be alright,” he responded, jerking his head towards the leather bag slung over his shoulder. “Though if you might point me towards your restrooms…?”
“They’re right over there,” burbled Cullen. He pointed hastily towards a door almost directly opposite his counter. The man followed the gesture and he smiled, albeit in a weary sort of way.
“Thank you,” he sighed. “Do excuse me. I’ll be back momentarily.”
He slipped a note down onto the counter then and made his way across the shop to the bathrooms. Cullen stared after him, unable to tear his eyes away from the way his shirt clung to him like a second skin. It was only when he caught the old lady at table three smiling at him that he came to his senses.
He set about starting the man’s latte, taking great care to make it as perfect as humanly possible. Who was he? Cullen had never seen him around before and, whilst he was hardy best friends with most of the customers, he at least recognised the vast majority of them. This guy, though? Well, he felt certain he’d recognise a face like that if he’d seen it before. And the way he spoke! He wasn’t from Kirkwall, that much was obvious.
Cullen had the man’s latte and his change laid out on a tray by the time he returned. He’d changed out of his wet clothes and into another gorgeous shirt and a pair of white chinos. The blonde tried hard not to stare and managed a friendly and hopefully sane-looking smile as the man approached the counter.
“Ah, thank you… ‘Cullen’,” the man beamed, peering at his name tag. “I feel a little more human for being out of those sodden rags and this will only help.”
“No problem,” Cullen replied. “Do you, er, need a hand? With the tray, I mean?”
“I’m a big boy,” his customer winked in response. “I’m certain I’ll manage. Though I appreciate the offer all the same.”
He flashed Cullen one last smile before picking up his tray and carrying it over to one of the tables in the window. He sank down into one of the comfier chairs, stowing his bag beneath it and immediately pulling a phone out of his pocket. Cullen watched him glance at the screen and frown before he reached for his latte. The look of pleasure on his face as he took that first sip was oddly satisfying.
“Maker’s breath,” Cullen sighed to himself. His night had definitely gotten a little more interesting.
*
The hour or so that followed continued in the same vein as the rest of Cullen’s shift. A couple of people came and went, giving him something to do, but it was still dismally quiet. The rain hadn’t let up; the blonde could hardly blame people for wanting to stay home.
The upside to the lack of business was that Cullen’s eyes had time to wander – and wander they did. He found himself surreptitiously watching the handsome, moustached man at any chance he got. Maker, he felt like a schoolboy again, peeking covert glances at his crush from across the classroom. The man had taken out a book not long after sitting down and he’d been reading distractedly since, resting it in his lap every so often to glance at his phone. He had such regal posture, Cullen noted. And the way he sipped at his latte, his tongue snaking out to swipe the foam from his lip, had Cullen flustered. Maker but he was gorgeous.
Sometime later, he approached Cullen’s counter for a refill with his empty mug in hand. The blonde actually felt his stomach flutter in excitement but he squashed it down in favour of being polite and professional – or at least, that’s what he aimed for.
“Same again?” he smiled, as he stowed the man’s dirty cup in the dishwasher.
“If you please,” the man replied and Cullen couldn’t help but notice he sounded wearier than before. He pulled a leather wallet out of his pocket whilst Cullen rang his order through the till.
“That’s 2.95, please.”
The man frowned as he rummaged through his wallet. A light flush appeared on his cheekbones and he sighed.
“Ah. It appears I’m a little short,” he mumbled. “I left in rather a hurry. Perhaps just a water then?”
Cullen winced. “It’s fine, don’t worry,” he assured him. “I can add it to my tab. You need a hot drink on a miserable night like this.”
The man looked genuinely taken aback.
“I… thank you, but you really don’t have to,” he protested. “Water will do just fine.”
“It’s fine, really,” chuckled Cullen. “They owe me for all the overtime I do here anyway. Sit down. I’ll bring it right over for you.”
The smile he received in response was easily worth ten lattes.
“Thank you,” the man breathed. “It’s been… well… I really appreciate it, Cullen.”
“Don’t mention it…?”
“Ah, of course. I believe I owe you that much. My name’s Dorian. Dorian Pavus.”
“Nice to meet you, Dorian Pavus. Now go sit down. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Dorian laughed – a soft, decadent sound that made Cullen’s stomach flip – and he wandered back over to where he’d left his bag. Cullen watched him for a moment before het set about fixing him another latte. The routine was comforting, grounding, keeping his mind from straying too far off into fantasy. Dorian Pavus. It was a distinguished name, Tevinter if he wasn’t mistaken. Surely a handsome, exotic man like that wouldn’t be interested in a Ferelden bumpkin like him. He needed to reign it in.
Dorian was frowning at his phone again when Cullen approached with his coffee. He glanced up, however, and gave Cullen a warm smile.
“Thank you,” he murmured, as he curled his hands around the warm cup. “Maker, I think this dreadful weather has me starting with a chill. Sit down, won’t you?”
Cullen glanced around. There was only one other couple in the shop now and they’d not long since ordered. He supposed he could spare five minutes to get off his feet…
“Alright,” he agreed. “But I can’t be long. My manager would pitch a fit if she saw me sitting around on shift.”
“Lucky she’s not here then,” Dorian winked. A soft chime issued from the phone on the arm of his chair. He glanced hastily at the screen only to sigh and roll his eyes.
“Are you expecting someone?” Cullen asked, hesistantly. “A… girlfriend, perhaps?”
His cheeks burned the moment the words were out of his mouth. Dorian let loose a burst of genuine laughter but quickly composed himself, not that it helped Cullen feel any less like an idiot.
“My apologies,” he chuckled. “I meant no offence. No, it’s not my girlfriend. Women are delightful but I’ve never been that way inclined.”
He lifted his mug to his lips, flashing Cullen what he could only interpret as a teasing smirk, before taking a sip of his coffee. The blonde felt doubly stupid and yet also hopeful.
“Ah, so a boyfriend then?” he ventured, and Maker, he could actually feel his pulse fluttering with nerves. Dorian smiled and shook his head.
“Nothing like that,” he murmured. “It’s just a friend. Or at least, I’m waiting on them to get back to me. Felix is a little unreliable, though, through no fault of his own.”
“Ah.” Cullen nodded, rather wishing he had a drink to hide behind too. His eyes dropped awkwardly to the floor, falling upon the sizable bag at Dorian’s feet. “Are, er, you two supposed to be going somewhere?”
“Hm?” asked Dorian, glancing up. “Oh, not exactly. I… I was hoping to crash on his couch, actually. I had a fight with my father. Left in a fit of pique without really thinking anything through – hence the lack of funds.”
He chuckled but it was a pained sound and Cullen winced at hearing it.
“Oh, man. I’m sorry.”
Dorian waved him off. “Don’t be. Happens all the time. Father doesn’t approve of my… tastes.” He looked Cullen up and down pointedly, chuckling when the blonde flushed.
“That can’t be easy,” Cullen murmured. “I guess I’ve been lucky that my parents don’t really mind who I date.”
Dorian tilted his head curiously at that and his smile turned sly.
“Oh?” he grinned. “And where do your preferences lie, I wonder?”
The blonde barista shrugged, willing himself not to turn entirely scarlet. Truth be told, he’d been attracted to his fair share of both. Gender was not so much important as a person’s nature, their personality: that’s what attracted him. Dorian’s quick wit and easy charm was proving very attractive indeed. He might have told him as much too were it not for the interruption of the shop door opening and two very bedraggled teenage girls shuffling inside.
“I, er, better go and see to that,” he mumbled, and Dorian nodded, his eyes glittering impishly.
“Don’t let me keep you,” he smirked. “But I would like to continue this later.”
Cullen gave an awkward laugh as he got to his feet, straightening out his apron.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he replied.
*
The night dragged on and still Dorian received no word from his friend. Cullen continued to ply him with free coffee, in spite of the man’s protests.
“Really, you don’t need to,” he’d mumble, looking embarrassed but also somewhat pleased.
“I want to,” Cullen would reply. “We can’t have you getting cold.”
The rain kept up and business remained slow. Had it not been for Dorian, the blonde would have been dismally bored. Yet, he couldn’t deny, stopping to chat to the Tevinter between tasks made his shift feel considerably less like work - perhaps even fun.
However, as time passed and they got closer and closer to closing, Dorian’s airy, jovial nature was replaced by visible tension. There was still no word from Felix and clearly his plan of staying with his friend was beginning to fall apart.
Cullen watched him as he tidied down the counter for the night, a heaviness growing in his chest. He felt awful shutting up shop knowing he was kicking Dorian out into the cold. Surely he had somewhere else he could go? Someone else he could turn to?
The Tevinter was just coming out of the restroom again as Cullen was switching off the lights.
“Still no word,” he asked, remorsefully, throwing his jacket over his uniform.
Dorian shook his head.
“This isn’t like him,” he murmured. “Maker, I hope he’s not out of the country.” He looked thoroughly miserable for a moment, clearly conflicted between going home to his homophobic father and wandering the streets. However, he slipped on a mask-like smile and shouldered his bag. “Oh well, can’t be helped!” he shrugged. “I’ll think of something, don’t worry.”
“You could stay with me for the night.”
Cullen didn’t know what had made him say it. Indeed, he surely looked as surprised as Dorian the moment the words left his mouth. But what else could he do? He couldn’t just abandon the poor guy on a night like this!
“That is to say,” he backtracked, feeling his cheeks flame. “I have a sofa bed in the living room that you’re more than welcome to. I know we barely know each other and it sounds crazy but, Maker’s breath, you’ll catch your death out there and I can’t in good conscience leave you to wander the streets on a night like this and… and…”
He trailed off, aware that Dorian was laughing softly behind his hand.
“You are terribly sweet,” he murmured. “But I can’t impose on you like that.”
“It’s no imposition,” replied Cullen, his tone equally as soft. “It’s only what any decent person would do. And we both know you don’t want to go back to your father.”
Dorian’s expression darkened.
“No…” he sighed. “No I don’t. Thank you, Cullen. You are uncommonly kind.”
Cullen have a bashful chuckle.
“I don’t know about that,” he smiled. “It’s only a sofa-bed. We can work on tracking down your friend in the morning. Hopefully it’ll be a little less wild by then.”
It was still lashing it down as they headed outside. Dorian huddled under the awning whilst Cullen locked the doors and then they both ran down the road to where his trusty hatchback was parked.
“Damn, that’s a cold rain for August,” Cullen shivered, as he slipped into the driver’s seat, shutting the door hastily behind him. It was only a couple of hundred yards from the shop to his car but both he and Dorian were damp and chilly from the short run. Cullen made sure to put the heaters on before he set off downtown towards home.
Dorian was rather quiet as they drove and the blonde found himself worrying that he’d changed his mind.
“I… can drop you off somewhere if you’d rather,” he chattered, nervously. “I mean, I know this is kind of strange. In fact, if it makes you feel more comfortable, you can have my room. The door has a lock.”
Again, the Tevinter responded with a bubbling laugh.
“My dear Cullen,” he grinned. “This is hardly the first time I’ve spent the night with a man I scarcely know. I’m not concerned.”
“Really?” Cullen asked. “Why would you do – OH! Oh. Right. Of course.”
The blonde barista could feel himself blushing again and he cursed his nonsensical reactions. Stranger still was the little flare of envy he felt as he thought of the men who’d had that privilege. Dorian was a beautiful man, charming, witty and clearly intelligent and… Sighing, Cullen gave himself a mental shake. Such thoughts would get him nowhere.
It wasn’t a long drive back to Cullen’s apartment. He lived on the outskirts of ‘Lowtown’, as it was affectionately known, in an attractive building that had once been an old warehouse. The modern aesthetic attracted a lot of KU’s arts students. Personally, Cullen had chosen it because of its convenient location, halfway between work and the campus. That particular night, he was also rather thankful for the underground parking.
“What a stylish building,” Dorian murmured, as they headed for the elevator.
“It has its charms,” agreed Cullen. “Though my downstairs neighbours are musical theatre students and Maker their teacher has his work cut out for him.”
The Tevinter laughed.
Cullen’s apartment was on the second floor. He opened the door then hung back, allowing Dorian to enter first and get a good look around. Whilst he didn’t really care too much for interior design, he had to admit the bare, brick walls and the steel beams really appealed to him. The tall, panelled windows had been perfectly restored, affording him a stunning view of the docks beyond from the main room.
“Fasta vass,” exclaimed Dorian. “How on earth did you get such a chic apartment?”
“I’ve lived here since before it was trendy,” Cullen laughed. “And yes, I know that makes me sound like a hipster but it’s true. I got in before the rent round here skyrocketed.”
He led Dorian through the open-plan space to where the sofa bed was situated.
“I’m sorry it’s not particularly private,” he apologised. “Are you sure you don’t want to take the bedroom?”
“And miss out on this spectacular vista? Don’t be absurd,” Dorian winked.
“I’ll just go and fetch some sheets then. The bathroom’s the first door off the hallway if you want to change and freshen up. I’ll get the bed made.”
“Thank you, Cullen,” the Tevinter said warmly, and he placed a hand on the blonde’s forearm. “I truly appreciate this.”
Cullen blinked, flustered, and tried to ignore the way his heart jumped up into his throat. Maker, the man was breath-taking.
“It’s fine,” he croaked. “Really.”
He made for the closet as Dorian headed to the bathroom to change. Pulling out a pillow, a set of sheets and a couple of blankets, the blonde went about making the sofa bed as comfortable as he could. His stomach was still churning with nervous excitement at the way Dorian had touched him and he had to physically will himself not to read too much into it. He was merely being grateful, he drilled himself. It was not something to get worked up about.
When the other man returned, he was dressed in a pair of expensive-looking, silk lounge pants teemed with a black tank top. Cullen tried not to stare at his well-muscled arms or the way the feather-light fabric of his pants cupped his backside just so.
“Wow,” he murmured. Dorian smirked and Cullen immediately felt himself turn scarlet. “I mean… well… you look about ready to turn in. I-I’ll get out of your hair. Help yourself to anything you need.”
Mortified, the blonde made to scamper away as quickly as possible but Dorian’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.
“Cullen,” he chuckled, and his tone was patient, placating. “It’s alright. Thank you. For everything.”
Cullen found himself smiling in spite of his embarrassment. He turned and was transfixed by the warmth in Dorian’s grey eyes, by the gentle smile that curved his plump, inviting lips. Cullen’s own eyes dropped to that mouth and he found himself aching to kiss him, to taste those lips with his own.
The chiming of his phone in his pocket broke the spell. Cullen blinked and shook himself, feeling a fresh wave of heat cresting his cheeks.
“Really, Dorian,” he uttered. “It’s nothing. I’ll… let you get some sleep. Goodnight.”
To his surprise, Dorian looked somewhat disappointed, though the smile never fully faded from his lips.
“Of course,” he replied. “Goodnight, Cullen.”
The blonde shot him a grin that was purely reflexive and he retreated to the sanctuary of his bedroom. Once there, he shut the door and sank onto the bed with a heavy groan.
What in the Void was the matter with him?
*
He wasn’t entirely sure how long he lay there in the dark, tossing and turning, listening to sounds of the storm outside as his mind ran in circles. He couldn’t stop thinking about Dorian. He’d been such an idiot around him! Maker, he’d be surprised if the man was still there when he got up. Cullen wouldn’t blame him for scarpering at the first chance he got.
After a while, it became clear that lying in bed and chewing himself out wasn’t helping anything. Enough time had passed – Dorian was probably fast sleep now. He felt sure he could slip out into the kitchen, fix himself a drink and head back to bed. Cocoa pretty much always heled him sleep.
Mind made up, Cullen crept out of his room and into the apartment beyond. It was dark and quiet, the sound of the rain against the windows the only thing he could hear. Thankfully, the moon outside provided him just enough light to see by and he made it into the kitchen without crashing into anything. He tried to be as quiet as possible as he moved around but he must have made a sound, for he saw a phone screen light up in the living area, followed by a hoarse whisper of, “Cullen?”
The blonde cursed inwardly. “Maker, I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just getting a drink.”
The lamp was switched on, and Cullen saw Dorian sit up off his pillows, looking a little ruffled but surprisingly alert.
“It’s alright,” he smiled. “I wasn’t asleep, as it happens.”
Cullen frowned at that.
“How come?” he asked. “Something on your mind?”
The Tevinter let a sound that was part huff, part chuckle. Slipping off the sofa, he padded over to join Cullen in the kitchen.
“As luck would have it, there is…” he smirked and, before Cullen could even think to inquire what, the man was kissing him. Cullen’s eyes blew wide open and he froze where he stood, an empty mug still clutched tightly in his hand. Had it not been for the surge of heat in his belly, he would have been certain that he was dreaming. But even his sultriest dreams never felt this good. Dorian’s lips were warm and soft and his tongue still tasted faintly of toothpaste as it snaked in besides Cullen’s. Groaning, the blonde set the mug aside, wrapping his hands instead around Dorian’s waist. The Tevinter hummed in reply. One bejewelled hand tangled in Cullen’s hair whilst the other palmed his ass through his pajama pants, squeezing eagerly.
“Maker’s breath,” Cullen gasped, breaking away. “Dorian, I…”
“Hmm?” the other man murmured, as he turned his hungry kisses instead to the column of Cullen’s throat. “Something wrong?”
He nibbled at a tendon, making heat flare in Cullen’s gut.
“Ah!” he whimpered. “No! No… Maker… I just… I want to be sure you’re not doing this because you think you owe me.”
Dorian froze at that and, for a horrifying moment, Cullen thought he had said something very wrong. However, the Tevinter simply chuckled.
“My dear Cullen,” he laughed. “Would it appease you if I told you I fancied you from the moment I saw you?”
“I… you did?”
“Of course. Have you seen yourself lately? Add in to the equation that you’re uncommonly kind… well, trust me when I say that I am not doing this out of some misplaced sense of obligation. Now, do you have any other concerns?”
“Erm, no.”
“Good,” Dorian murmured, and then he was kissing Cullen again, pressing himself tightly against the blonde. Cullen groaned, succumbing to his urges. The pair of them moved as one back towards his bedroom, pausing only so Cullen could nudge the door shut behind them. Mouths ravished each other and they staggered through the dark room until the back of Cullen’s knees hit the mattress. He half-fell, half-sat down onto the bed, dragging Dorian with him. The Tevinter settled into his lap without so much as missing a beat, moaning greedily as their hips met.
“Just to reassure you of my enthusiasm,” the man purred and he ground down on Cullen. The blonde gasped at the feel of the other’s growing erection so close to his own. Any lingering doubts he’d had about Dorian’s motives vanished. Growling, he grasped the Tevinter’s taught backside through his silk pajamas. Dorian hummed, parting his legs even wider and rolling his hips. His mouth trailed a line of hot kisses down Cullen’s throat, pausing to nibble at his collarbones and push the blonde back down onto the bed. “Such a delicious physique,” he praised, as he nuzzled at Cullen’s chest. “A man of your stature is wasted as a barista.”
“I’m training as a – ah! – police officer, actually,” Cullen responded, gasping when Dorian flickered a tongue over his nipple. “The coffee shop’s only part-time.
“Mmm, I do like a man in uniform.”
The kissed until neither of them could bare it anymore, pulling apart to shed what little clothing they were wearing. Dorian was glorious in the light of the streetlamps outside, in the warm glow they cast over his toned, bronze body. His erection was flushed and leaking, jutting proudly out from a neatly trimmed patch of dark curls. Cullen was no better off and he wasted no time in pulling Dorian back down on top of him.
“Eager are we?” Dorian grinned. “I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t too. Where do you keep your lube?”
Cullen’s eyes widened in horror at the mention of lube. In his excitement, he’d completely forgotten until now that he’d used the last of it two nights ago when a particularly lusty dream had woken him up.
“I… don’t have any,” he groaned. “Oh, Maker…”
Dorian, however, didn’t seem too perturbed.
“No matter,” he chuckled. “I’m sure you’ve something in the kitchen that will suffice. Allow me to-”
“No,” gasped Cullen, hastily. “No… don’t go, not now. Actually, I have an idea. Straddle my face.”
Flint coloured eyes lit up with delight. Dorian moved at top pace, sitting astride Cullen’s face and leaning over his body to take the blonde’s erection in hand. Cullen groaned.
“Yes,” he whimpered, as the Tevinter licked a line up his shaft. “Oh Dorian…”
Shaky fingers wrapped around Dorian’s cock. Cullen adjusted his head and they took each other in their mouths almost in unison, muffled moans sending pleasure coursing through their loins. Slowly and tentatively, they established a rhythm of hands and mouth, of tongues and just a hint of teeth. Dorian was exceptionally talented and it was hard for Cullen to think straight, let alone maintain a perfect technique. However, he was determined to give the other man as much pleasure as he was receiving. Using his one free hand, he gently massaged Dorian’s sensitive perineum. The muffled cry Dorian uttered was delicious – doubly so for the way it vibrated round Cullen’s length. He bucked into Cullen’s mouth and the blonde growled in delight at the heat that coiled deep in his belly.
It fast became of relay of pleasure, of heated touches and delicious, wanton sounds. Cullen’s orgasm came first and it hit him so hard he had to stop what he was doing, letting Dorian slide out of his mouth so he could gasp for breath. The Tevinter finished mere seconds later. He whimpered around the blonde’s cock and came hard on Cullen’s chest, coating him with hot release.
“Fuck!” Cullen panted, as Dorian managed an elegant manoeuvre, sliding off him onto the bed at his side. “Shit, I’m sorry… I meant to…”
“Mm… my dear Cullen,” purred Dorian. “That. Was. Exquisite.”
The Tevinter flopped onto his back, looking as limber and sated as a hay housecat. Chuckling, Culled reached over and squeezed his thigh affectional.
“Hand me those tissues on the night-stand, will you?” he asked. “Maker, I’m not sure if I can move…”
After cleaning himself up – sufficiently for sleep, at least – a sated and weary Cullen dragged Dorian into bed. The Tevinter settled on his chest, one leg thrown over his hips and his clever fingers toying with his smattering of chest hair.
“Well, when I left home this afternoon, I can honestly say I did not expect my day to end like this,” he muttered, stifling a yawn.
Cullen chuckled, pressing a kiss to the other man’s brow. Now that their lust had been sated, he was aware of the other stirring within him – the warm, giddy something that accompanied genuine attraction. It was hardly surprising: Dorian was fast proving that he was as witty and bright as he was beautiful. A dangerous combination, Cullen thought, especially if this just to be a one-night thing. That made his stomach twist uncomfortably. He pushed it aside, refusing to contemplate it for the moment. Right now, Dorian was his and he was determined to make the most of it.
“Me neither,” he smiled. “Definitely one of my better shifts.”
Dorian hummed, bestowing a lazy kiss on Cullen’s chest. The blonde whimpered at the proximity to his still sensitive nipples, pulling another chuckle from Dorian.
“No more tonight,” he sighed, though Cullen could sense his smile. “You’ve rather worn me out. Let’s get some sleep, hm?”
Cullen nodded and the arm he had around Dorian’s shoulder squeezed affectionately.
It didn’t take long for the other man to fall asleep, his soft breaths tickling Cullen’s chest. The blonde wasn’t surprised - he’d had an emotionally harrowing day, by the sounds of things. Pale fingers ruffled silky, dark hair and Dorian snuggled a little closer in his sleep. He was gorgeous, even in slumber – and Cullen knew denial would do him no good. He was already infatuated.
*
The bed was empty when he woke. Cullen ran a hand down his face and tried to pretend that he wasn’t bitterly disappointed. Really, it was his own fault. Who in their right mind thought such a speedy hook-up would ever amount to anything?
Sighing, he slipped out of bed, retrieving the pants he’d cast aside in their haste last night. Dorian’s clothes were nowhere to be seen. He wondered if the man would even be in the apartment at all or if he had simply gathered his things and gone on his way.
He was surprised, then, when he walked out of his room to find Dorian in the kitchen. He was fiddling around with Cullen’s coffee machine and he jumped when the blonde appeared at the counter, a faint blush blooming beneath his dark skin.
“Ah! You startled me,” he smiled, and Maker, if his uncharacteristic sheepishness wasn’t the most adorable thing Cullen had ever seen.
“I thought you’d left,” the blonde admitted, his unease at his own relief creeping into his voice. Dorian must have noticed, for he grimaced and Cullen braced himself for the inevitable sting of rejection.
“Ah, my apologies,” he muttered, hand’s stilling on a pair of mugs. “I woke up early and I thought it would be nice to make you coffee for a change. Don’t worry, I can get out of your hair as soon as I’m dressed.”
He flashed Cullen a smile that was barely more than an ill-concealed grimace. A second ticked by. And then another. Suddenly, it hit Cullen what was going on and he didn’t know whether to laugh in relief or kick himself for not being clearer.
“What? No, that’s not what I meant!” he floundered. “I was just worried that… I mean, when I woke up you weren’t… Maker, I’m messing this up. I appreciate the coffee. Maybe after we’ve had a cup, you’d like to go out and get some breakfast? I don’t have much in otherwise I’d cook us some.”
He glanced expectantly at Dorian, his heart in his throat. To his utter delight, a beautiful, sunny smile spread across the Tevinter’s face, lighting up his silver eyes.
“Breakfast sounds delightful.”