Follow up to the previous chapter Love is Blind
WARNING ~ this chapter is NSFW
Cullen shifted on the hard throne, scowling as he tugged against his collar. Gold threads weaved faint patterns across the shoulders of the red suit. Josephine had complimented the cut and'fine tailoring' of the Antivan merchants but he found the whole thing itchy and counter-productive. He needed full movement of his arms not fancy buttons.
"You have to start it, Cullen," Elysse hissed to him from the shadows.
He scowled when his cheeks heated. They'd talked about this. Prepared ahead of time. But seeing all the doors, knowing that anyone could walk in on them: it made his heart pound.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked.
"Josephine's got them all busy at the festival. But we need to start now. Please?"
They were unlikely to get this chance again.
Cullen cleared his throat, attempting to keep his hands from shaking as he said, "Inquisitor Trevelyan, come forward and be judged."
She stepped into the flickering light of the fire and his breath left him. Sheer red silk hid nothing. The material clung to every curve and draped down to flutter around her ankles. She wore nothing underneath; he found her lack of smallclothes distracting to say the least. He licked his lips as his eyes soaked in the fullness of her breasts, the subtle definition of her strength in her muscles, the dark brush of hair at the junction of her legs.
Cullen swallowed hard and forced his gaze up. Elysse's hands were loosely tied in a long velvet strip—though wrapped was probably a better word. Knots were his responsibility tonight.
Elysse kept her back straight, shoulders thrown back like a proud warrior even as she knelt before him. "Your Majesty."
"Inquisitor," he said with a smirk. His shoulders relaxed and he settled into the Andrastian throne. The rest of the room fell away as he stared at her. "It's well known that you've broken away from the Chantry. While that is within your right as Inquisitor, these other accusations about your more recent behavior—I find them quite unsettling."
He licked his lips again, mouth feeling dry. He'd prepared an entire speech for this: nefarious deeds and suitable 'punishments' to make her endure. But watching the draft tug at the silk barely holding to her shoulders, seeing her nipples responding to the chill in the room: his thoughts were all but blank.
Maker preserve him, this was going to be harder than he thought.
"Yes, Your Majesty?" she asked with a subtle smirk.
Cullen straightened his back with a cough. "You've been placed into my hands so that I may punish you as I see fit."
Her smirk widened.
"Stand up," he ordered.
Elysse obeyed, her expression almost smug.
"Come closer," he said. "Where I can see you."
He pulled the strip of satin from her wrists and thumbed the material, remembering how it had felt tied around his eyes nearly a week before. Beckoning her closer with a gesture of his finger, she came to stand between his spread legs.
"Did you choose a word?" he asked as he slipped the silk from her shoulders. The fabric pooled around her feet. Setting the satin in his lap, his hands started around her knees and rubbed up towards her hips as she considered his question. She shivered under his touch.
"Turnips."
Cullen blinked.
"It's a long story with Cole," she whispered.
