[sandbox]

[bringspeopletogether]

No Orlesian nobles pounded down their door to demand their hound back, so when Alistair and Cullen left Halamshiral, the newly-dubbed Gruyere happily trotted alongside their horses.

A few weeks after -- which included some quiet conversation, a few orders placed with a few merchants, and almost an entire extra pack of gifts slung over one of their mounts -- Gru just as happily trotted along as they turned for South Reach.

Years of correspondence led Alistair to build an elaborate image of Cullen's family in his mind; Mia, perhaps, more fully realized than the others, but everyone with a name and a voice to match their letters. They're...not wholly inaccurate? But Mia's definitely shorter than he expected, and one or two of the children a little louder.

(Mia's voice, however, adopts exactly the pitch he imagined it would when Alistair brings up the whole I'm-your-brother-in-law-now thing.)

It's a nice place. Just the right kind of rambunctious, with all the kids running around; just the right kind of homey.

If only Cullen weren't -- well, reacting more or less precisely how Alistair worried he'd react to the reunion.

Comments

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen hisses, sharply -- and then curses, as the bed jerks.

He'd wanted -- he'd wanted -- to sink his fingers into Alistair's hair. He tried.

He's bound.

"Oh dear." There's a slight edge of hysteria to his laughter. "I seem to be immobilized, Alistair."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair stops for a moment, resting his chin on Cullen's belly.

"You are?" he asks, mildly. "Oh, dear. Whatever shall we do."

Struggling not to grin, he returns to work with a vengeance.

[howtoactfereldan]

And at first, Cullen is too caught up in how to properly participate with his hands unavailable to take the opportunity in front of him. But then, breathing going ragged, he sees Alistair at work.

Alistair's lips gone swollen, and wet, and red.

Alistair preparing Cullen for his own use, to his own liking, to his own standards. Alistair giving him the gift of being able to serve. To please.

His own mouth hangs open as he struggles to keep his hips from pumping; Alistair will expect discipline from him. Some self-restraint to go with the actual restraint.

And when the feel of Alistair's tongue is so nearly too much to bear --

"Stop, stop if you want me, I'll come, I'm coming -- "

[bringspeopletogether]

The instant the word stop is out of Cullen's mouth, Alistair stops. He looks up with a flash of concern -- but when it becomes clear that nothing's wrong (rather the opposite, really), he laughs, softly, and runs his hands over Cullen's hips.

"I do want you." He kisses Cullen's belly. "In a moment. Let me find the oil."

He should have thought of that while he was digging out the rope, but his mind was a little preoccupied at the time. Rising from the bed, he finally shucks off his own trousers and returns to his pack.

[howtoactfereldan]

He closes his eyes and shudders, heart pounding.

(This means, alas, he misses the view.)

Plaintive: "You won't be long?"

[bringspeopletogether]

Warmly amused, from across the room: "Not long at all, love."

The bed sinks as he kneels on it again, vial of oil in hand. He keeps it cradled against his palm as he cups the backs of Cullen's thighs.

"Legs up," he instructs.

[howtoactfereldan]

Another small shudder. It's not unpleasant.

"At your order," Cullen murmurs, and obeys.

[bringspeopletogether]

That garners a pleased chuckle. He caresses Cullen's legs before drawing his hands away.

Alistair uncaps the vial. Oil for himself; some for Cullen as well, gently exploring and teasing with his fingers. A little more. A little closer.

Then -- slowly, carefully -- he guides himself in.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen's back arches. His breath, which he'd done a fair job of bringing under his control, catches sharp in his throat.

He's got to be calm. Calm. Relax into it. Because once he does --

"All right." His voice only shakes a little bit. Cullen's eyes are still closed -- but he's smiling, just a little, disbelieving. "Yes. Oh, yes."

[bringspeopletogether]

Even with Cullen relaxed, he surrounds Alistair tight and hot. Alistair has to dig his fingers into the bedsheets to keep his own composure; he exhales a shaky breath that nearly tips into a moan by the end.

"Yes," he echoes, barely thinking. He presses his hips forward an extra inch; another. "Maker."

He fights to regain enough of his faculties to keep talking.

"If you could see yourself, love. Laid out for me like this. Ready for me." A breath of laughter. "You're beautiful."

[howtoactfereldan]

Contrary to literally every other time Alistair has said this... Cullen seems to believe it. Not even trying to catch his breath, Cullen still smiles, small and bright.

His fingers twist and clench: it's helping, to take away the option to push Alistair or himself away, but at the same time it's maddening that Cullen can't touch him.

"Please." It takes a moment for him to form the word. "Ready. I'm ready. please."

[bringspeopletogether]

That smile. As if Cullen weren't beautiful enough already; as if Alistair wasn't having a hard enough time catching his own breath.

"Yes," he manages. As he sinks the rest of the way in, he grabs the headboard with one hand, just above where Cullen's tied fast. "Well done."

And using the extra leverage, he starts up an unhurried, steady rhythm.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen takes in a great shaky breath. As Alistair moves, Cullen's exhale turns into soft moans. "Alistair," he manages, head thrown back, throat bare. "Alistair. Please. Yes. Yes."

He hadn't expected --

Nothing about the sensation is easy. But he hadn't expected it to -- feel so easy.

[bringspeopletogether]

"Good." Breathless; shaky. "Yes. Good."

He bends to nip at Cullen's neck, quick and sharp, without breaking his rhythm.

"Just like that, love. Ah -- " His grip tightens on the headboard. "Yes. You're doing so well -- "

[howtoactfereldan]

The world goes white for a moment when he feels Alistair's teeth. By the time Cullen is aware again, he's pulling at the restraints, muscles tensing. His moans are -- louder than he expected.

It's not as though Alistair seems to mind.

Why don't we always do this? he wonders, a little delirious.

[bringspeopletogether]

He can't resist: he runs his nails down one of Cullen's arms, over each ridge and knot of muscle, and buries his face against the damp skin of Cullen's throat again. Yes, he keeps saying, dizzy with want. Yes.

He's so close already, between the feel of Cullen around him and the sight of Cullen straining against his bonds and Maker's breath, the sounds in his ears --

Alistair fumbles for the oil again.

(All that time they spent getting Cullen ready. It'd be a shame to let it go to waste.)

[howtoactfereldan]

The sensation of Alistair's nails is very nearly too much. What comes out of Cullen then is a high-pitched cry. He squirms, which shifts Alistair's angle just enough that the pleasure is nearly unbearable.

Nearly.

"Finish," he begs Alistair, tight, hoarse. "Please. Come in me. Finish -- "

[bringspeopletogether]

Well, Alistair was having some trouble finding that damned vial anyway.

He laughs, even shakier, and grips the headboard so tight his fingers blanch. "Cullen, Maker," he gasps; he drives harder, a little more erratic now. "Yes, yes -- "

That's the last coherent word he manages to shape. It isn't long at all before his back arches taut, every touch and sound and sight burning a white-hot line of ecstasy down his spine, and he spills into Cullen with a shuddering moan.

[howtoactfereldan]

He can't touch Alistair, and it's driving him mad.

"Yes." The sound's a whisper, a little broken. "Yes. Thank you. Alistair."

His heart is in his throat. He feels wild. Feral. He hikes up his legs even further, brushing his calf along Alistair's flank.

[bringspeopletogether]

Every touch heats another path through him. Alistair shivers. He cups Cullen's cheek and bends to kiss him, but he's too breathless to keep it up for long.

With care -- and another soft gasp -- he lifts his hips to slide free. His senses haven't fully returned, but he can feel Cullen pressed hard against his abdomen; shooting him a quick, questioning look -- may I? -- he slips his hand between them to take hold.

[howtoactfereldan]

"You don't have to," Cullen manages -- barely. "Unless -- "

There: a helpless grin at the ceiling.

"At your order."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair chuckles, a bit breathless still. "I do," he says, and picks up with a series of firm strokes. "I do order."

He kisses Cullen again, hungrier now.

[howtoactfereldan]

For just a moment, he catches Alistair's lower lip in his teeth and runs his tongue across.

But Cullen is also facing a significant distraction. He groans into Alistair's mouth, hips bucking into Alistair's hand. There's no rhythm -- just need, plain, raw.

[bringspeopletogether]

"Good," he breathes against Cullen's scar. "Yes. So beautiful."

He drags his fingers through Cullen's hair, tightening a little, and picks up the pace with his other hand.

"Come for me, love."

[howtoactfereldan]

Alistair is in control of him, and won't let him go too far. He's the safest he's ever been. Cullen doesn't even bother thinking about it -- just spills with a ragged cry.

(He couldn't think about it if he wanted to. Every bit of sensory input except the one that matters is an ocean away from him.

He's floating. Everything is quiet.

Slowly the corners of his mouth turn up as his arms go limp, dead weight. Eyes closed.)