Her occupied body made it difficult, but Lana reached in under her robes and managed to tug down the only scrap of clothing to get in the way. Perched upon the bed, she was able to snatch her pale blue panties off her swollen ankle. Amber eyes watched as if in fear he'd have to tackle her to stop this encroaching madness. Cullen hadn't been this on edge since before their first time together in the deep roads.
"Hold these," she ordered, placing her underwear into his grasp. The man who regularly hung up their laundry stared at her unmentionables as if they were some holy relic he just accidentally stole out of the chantry. Wadded into his fist, only a hint of the blue lace poked out of the edge as Lana undid the knot to her robe. Alas, they fell open to reveal, instead of bare flesh, her traveling clothes -- a light sweater with a knee high skirt, but she could make it work.
Gulping, and clearly trying to hang on to sanity with the edge of his nails, Cullen's free hand cupped against her side. "Lana?" he whispered.
"Shh..." she said, her voice following to his low level, "we should be quiet." Slowly she traced her fingers down his chest, all but tasting the excitement rising in his face, until she cupped against the growing erection straining his trousers. Cullen gasped at her impetuous move and Lana placed a finger to her lips, shushing him again.
There wasn't much room to work with, so she only undid the belt and unclasped the front of his pants. Maker bless that man for never letting any knickers get in the way.
Freed of the indignity of clothing, Lana's palm gently swooped from the head of his cock downward. Despite her orders to keep silent, Cullen groaned, his eyes flying shut while his nails dug into her blue lace. A stuttering breath responded as he staggered up to stare at her. Decades faded from her mind: the wear, the miles, even the concept of her pregnant belly -- she stared down at that young templar who caught her attentions from across the grand room. Maker, even as she tortured him about the idea she couldn't deny how often as a girl she wondered about finding him alone. Dragging him off to a back part of the library and savoring all those parts of theirs that were different but fit so deliciously together.
"Lana," he moaned, staring as if it was the first time they'd ever seen each other.
"Honey eyes," she whispered back, a smile flirting with his lips at the ache in her voice. Blessed Andraste, how she wanted him. Stretching upon her thighs, she straddled Cullen's waist, barely pausing to adjust for her stomach. Her fingers rolled around the bottom of his cock, extending it straight up.
Tipping down as far as her stomach would allow towards his face, Lana breathed, "I love you," as she thrust herself deep onto his hard erection.
"Dear Maker," Cullen groaned, his lips whiffling as he tried to remain motionless while the woman of his old fantasies rode him slow at first but gaining speed with every thrust.
"Tell me," she ordered, her body's desire driving his generous cock deeper with momentum. "Did you dream of this? Want it? Wrap your fingers around yourself while begging for me?"
He panted harder, his toes flexing to dig into the ancient mattress. His hips twisted higher, thrusting with her to drive right against her internal buttons. "Blessed Andraste, damn near every night!" Cullen cried.
The sheen of their little play snapped off, the man returning to devour her as he wished. Scooping up the hem of her sweater, Cullen's fingers cupped tight to her breasts. He shoved up everything in the way, allowing his warm skin to tease hers. Sweet Maker! Kneading into her breasts with all the skills of a master, Cullen drew forth such a throbbing heat between her legs she began to rock her hips. Guiding her to find the perfect rhythm, his fingers circled up and down her nipples, Lana matching it with herself wrapped around his cock.
Her husband and lover, the man that was once so young to barely be called that upon meeting him, shut his eyes tight as he neared the abyss. Words of the chant dripped from his quivering lips. Was that what he'd do while he pleasured himself to thoughts of her? Maker's breath, why was that such a turn on?
With as deep a thrust down as her thighs could manage, Lana felt the stirrings first within her when a deep grunt and then a louder, "Merciful Andraste," gasped from Cullen's lips. He dropped her breasts, the sweater falling back into place, in order to pin her hips down. Bucking his own, he clung to the last vestiges of his orgasm while Lana watched the pleasure play across his face.
Taking a shuddering breath, those honey eyes opened and he stared up at her. A giddy laugh broke free, which he tried to shake off. Trapped between the here and the past, he seemed uncertain what to do beyond being amazed. Staring over at his fist, Cullen muttered in seeming shock, "I still have your underwear."
Lana laughed at the sincerity in his voice, "Yes, you do." She should climb off him, try to mop the mess up that'd spill out of her, and pluck her underwear free to slip back on. But this wasn't some quick tryst to work off tension fast before the other templars caught on. He was hers, and they had all the time they wished. Cullen seemed to blink through the euphoric haze settling on his brain to reach the same conclusion.
Bending those stomach muscles trapped behind far too much cloth, he sat up. Fingers wrapping back through her hair, Cullen sighed in contentment as he brushed his forehead against hers. Lana pulled him tight to her for the kisses her stomach made impossible before. She felt the lingering ache in between her thighs crying out for more, but Maker, all she wanted was to kiss him the way she never could in the tower before.
Sweet lips slipped from hers, Cullen whispering, "That wasn't supposed to happen. I mean, I very much enjoyed it, but I wanted this to be for you. A day devoted to you and not the..."
Circling the scruffy cheek, Lana's thumb ran down the small cleft in his chin as she smiled, "You really think you were the only one dreaming for that to happen when I was an apprentice?"
"I..." he stuttered, blinking rapidly as the blush returned. Cullen moved to wrap his hand through the back of his neck, but Lana caught it to thread through her fingers.
"While I may have been good at following the rules, I wouldn't say that my mind was perfectly pure all the time," she snickered, her lips trailing up to softly nibble upon his earlobe.
"Maker's...beloved," Cullen trembled, those honey eyes slipping closed as his adams apple rolled upward. "Then," he coughed, "I feel it is my duty to fulfill all your fantasies."
"All of them?" Lana lifted an eyebrow, daring him.
"Within reason," Cullen tacked on, causing her to laugh. Nuzzling his lips to her neck, he began to press kisses to her birthmark. Sweet Maker, she'd been happy to leave it at 0 and 1, but the throbbing ache returned as his warm mouth caressed her skin. Dipping lower near the top of her breasts swaddled in the sweater, Cullen whispered, "There's always your bed, Apprentice."
The bunk beds they'd clambered on as children, sometimes building forts much to templar consternation, broken like shattered ribs. Blankets stripped free, mattresses exploded and drenched in blood. So much blood. Lana began to shake, and it took a moment before Cullen realized it wasn't due to anticipation. This was her home for so long, but it was taken from her. Barely a Grey Warden and she returned to the halls where she knew every stone, every notch, to find her friends without faces, her teachers broken into pieces.
A hand cupped her cheek, the warmth pulling her from the dark memory. Lana tried to shake it off, forcing a smile on, but he must have known. Maybe he felt the same too. Cullen's arms wrapped tight to her in a hug and slowly he pulled her down to rest on top of him.
Laying together, apprentice and templar; bodies wound up, legs beside legs, hands clinging to backs, it had seemed so impossible for so long. He smoothed his fingers up and down her arm, the sweater clinging tighter as he did. "So much time," Lana breathed, not even certain what she was saying.
"Many people lived here, good people," Cullen said, his voice stripped. He seemed to be staring through the ceiling. Could he see all the way to the fourth floor where he'd been trapped for...far too long?
"It's all gone," she b
uried her cheek tighter to his chest, needing the safety of her husband. "The circles, the templars, everything we ever knew... I thought the tower was immutable, that my life would be lived trapped between these stones. I'd grow, I'd study, and I'd die here. There was little else. And now..."
"I have you," Cullen insisted, perhaps feeling as crushed by the weight of time marching forward as she did.
Lana tipped her head up, her fingers wandering over his scratchy cheek, "And I have you, even if I never ever thought... Maker's sake," she gasped, "we're going to have a baby."
He laughed once at that, struggling to sit up higher so he could watch her caress her stomach. Placing his hand beside hers, Cullen breathed against the top of her head, "Yes, we are."
"A family. I never imagined. Forget the Grey Wardens, even being a mage it seemed impossible..." Her eyes drifted around the fading room. A few tapestries remained in tatters, moths chewing chunks off the ends until most of the sword of mercy that bore the templar crest disappeared. Soon there would be nothing remaining but the empty bar. It was all going to vanish.
"Lana," Cullen whispered, drawing her to him.
"Hm?"
"What about Agatha?" he asked and she curdled her face.
"Maker, no. That's a hard pass. I thought you were set on Serena."
He shifted under her to denote a shrug, "It sounds far too close to the Orlesian empress and I'd rather not be reminded of her every time I gaze down at my daughter."
"You're gonna have to come up with a boy's name too. Just in case," she said. Together they snuggled back upon the bed, the soon-to-be father cuddling the weary soon-to-be mother close to his chest.
"Perhaps," he said, once again avoiding the fact there was a good chance it wasn't a girl inside her.
"Are you under the impression you can simply will what sex the child will be?" she snickered.
Lips pressed to her forehead whispered, "Consider it blind faith."
"Cullen," her voice shattered through the air, the thought that clung to her tongue but never slipped past her teeth finally growing wings. "Do you think our baby could be a mage?"
His arms stiffened, as she expected. He had to know it was highly likely, but she had no idea how he'd react or if he'd put any thought into it. What if...?
"It is possible," he said, his voice low.
"Do you," Lana swallowed the lump in her throat and continued, "do you worry that our child will be?"
"Lana, I..."
"Mages hurt you, I understand, and they -- we -- are dangerous. To see that same potential threat in your child's eye is..."
"Lana," he sat up, his hands keeping her held tight to his chest so she could look into his face. "I do worry, but only because of how the world views mages. How much more difficult life can be with magic. How cruel it is to have to fear possession. All the pain that comes with being a mage."
She snickered, her eyes darting down towards her stomach. "And yet, it doesn't stop us from being born." Maker only knew what was sleeping inside of there, growing bigger every day. The Maker only knew what would come of it.
"I thank Andraste every day that you were," he said.
Her watering vision darted up to the man who'd loved her for longer than seemed imaginable. "What if I was born without magic?"
"No, just the way you are," Cullen moved to place a kiss to her forehead, but she lifted up higher. Tears of both joy and fear dripped down her cheeks to land upon his while their lips melded.
"This, uh," Lana took a staggering breath to try and catch her bearings, "this probably wasn't your intentions for the day."
"You could say that," he smiled, his thumbs trying to wick away her tears. "Originally, I was going to lead up to the roof so we could have a picnic under the stars."
Her heart bloomed at the idea, "There's still time."
"I..." his smile dimmed as Cullen stared down at his hands, "I brought you here, back to Kinloch because they're going to tear the tower down."
"I know," she snuggled tighter to him. At his look of surprise, she added, "You think you're the only one who Arl Teagan talks to? I'm not surprised, the College has little use for it and the bandits have been a problem out here. It's...it makes sense."
"It's your home," he gasped, unable to shake off the shock at how she'd already moved on from the loss.
Lana knew every scratch in the floor, where the stone was broken and then carefully put back. Where a floorboard slid up to allow apprentices to stash secret letters and contraband. How to get across the library without making a sound. Exactly the pitch needed to rattle the windows in the atrium. She'd lived here for over 13 years. Grew here, learned how to read and write, cast spells, built friendships, met the man she loved. Had life snap back at her with the hard lesson that the world wasn't fair, that sometimes bad happened no matter how good one tried to be, and in the end, all you had was yourself to stand up against it.
Rubbing her hand across her husband's cheek, she smiled, "It was my home, but my home now is with you." Dragging his hand along her stomach, she added, "With both of you."
CHAPTER TEN
Baby Shower
31 weeks...
The lingering celebratory atmosphere drifted an inch above the floorboards. Reiss sat propped up upon a makeshift throne crafted out of their case files. While not comfortable, someone was kind enough to take the time to add a cushion below her expanding ass. In the chair to her right, perched like the evil Regent in all those courtly stories, was Lunet. Rather than twirling her mustache, she was tipping back the last of her beer. The crew had long drained the keg and were trying to finish off the last few drops between them all.
"Knock it off! I've had enough!" Jorel screeched from the only desk not covered in opened gifts, plates of remaining food, or nearly dozing detectives. He tried to wave his arms and pull the giant qunari lady off of him, but Qimat was too strong.
"Stop squirming," she ordered, yanking a diaper pin off of her horns and jabbing it towards Jorel's skin, "I nearly got this!" The dwarf was of sound enough mind to freeze as the pin mercifully went through white fabric and not his innards.
"You know, you can't exactly ask babies to stop moving while doing that," Reiss chuckled at what began as one of those foolish games done to try and teach the impending mother what fresh hell she stepped into. But, seeing as how her entire office was full of the child-less and often proud of it, it quickly devolved into seeing who could properly get a diaper onto Jorel.
"Babies don't have his grip," Qimat responded. She narrowed her eyes, honing in on a corner of fabric that shouldn't be poking out of the diaper. Rather than yank it out and restart, she tugged it forward and up, no doubt nestling Jorel's testicles higher than they'd been in years. He yelped at the indignity, but wouldn't fight back as the qunari pinned the errant corner in place and picked the dwarf up under his arms.
"There, all done!" she smiled. Qimat was a great asset to the Solvers. At first she was plucked up off the streets because she was very large and people didn't want to mess with someone who could crack their skull open one handed. But, after warming to the rest in the agency, she became a surprisingly wonderful good-cop, charming suspects and witnesses alike into revealing things they'd never intended to.
"I hate you," Jorel grumbled, his arms crossed below the braided beard as he kicked his legs helplessly above the ground. They'd let him keep his trousers on for this sudden game, but it was still disconcerting to see a grown man wearing a diaper, especially with a pin jabbed right into the area above his crotch. It was a wonder the grumbling and loud mouthed Jorel was chosen for this humiliation when the soft-spoken twin Kurt sat quietly to the side. But perhaps that was why. No one wanted to disappoint Kurt, but giving it back to Jorel was a typical Tuesday.
"Well," Qimat asked, still waving the poor dwarf back and forth like a toddler. Her eyes cut through to Reiss who sat up in confusion.
"You're supposed to judge who was the best at it," Lunet explained, the one who'd planned
all of this trying to take the lead. She'd taken the vague idea of a typical baby announcement then added an office party on for good measure.
Sliding off her throne, Reiss gripped under her stomach as she walked towards the glowering dwarf. "I'm afraid you have it all lopsided. You don't want to jab any pins near the baby's, um...nether region like that," she explained, her eyes darting up to Qimat.
Qimat shrugged, "Not like there's much to nick down there."
"Enough to get the job done," Jorel fumed, then sneered as titters broke out through the office. "More than enough!" he insisted, already doomed for a good month.
Sighing, Reiss moved to yank the pins off of Jorel but the dwarf snarled like a mad mabari. Her mabari was currently dozing under a pile of sausage wrappers. Accepting the dwarf wasn't about to let her use him as an example, Reiss fumbled for one of the dolls that was supposed to be used for the game. "Here, like this." Folding the cloth, Reiss mused to herself, "Like a kite, then you take this bottom part forward and...tada, all pinned in place."
Qimat stared down at how quickly she'd managed to get the baby doll clothed, then back to Jorel. "How'd you do that so fast?"
"If you ever have to diaper a little boy you learn to fly or get pissed on," Reiss chuckled. "I'm certain you'll figure it out, just keep trying," she encouraged Qimat. The qunari grinned at Jorel, who growled, but let himself be placed back upon the desk to try again.
Strange. The dwarf suffered no one, always the first to run barrel headlong into danger much to his poor, suffering brother's consternation. Climbing onto her chair again, Reiss' voice drifted down as she spoke to Lunet, "I'm beginning to think Detectives Qimat and Jorel are a thing."
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