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Since epically annihilating the Arishok with a well-timed fade fist, effectively outing herself as an apostate to the entire population of Kirkwall, Hawke had essentially become untouchable. The first openly practicing mage in the Free Marches to retain their freedom since the Tevinter Imperium dominated the continent.
She no longer had to hide, to work from the shadows, to live in constant fear of being identified for what she was and thrown into a prison to rot.
...it was tremendously boring.
What did it say about her that she actually missed the deviousness of it all? Her adrenaline had practically plummeted into nonexistence since she had been branded Champion. It was as though she could do no wrong, and she despised the pedestal on which she now found herself.
Which was precisely what had led her to begin frequenting The Blooming Rose. The Hanged Man still had its charms, of course, but it was always so full of grateful citizens and people trying to befriend her.
There was an unspoken code of conduct at The Rose, however. She wasn't the Champion of Kirkwall here. She was just another nameless patron, free to feast on flesh and wine to her heart's content without interruption from those who felt they owed her their lives.
Anonymity aside, she was still extremely surprised the first time she saw Meredith's right-hand man standing broodily by the bar with a drink in his hand. She'd already been several drinks in at the time so easily convinced herself it would be a grand idea to make her presence known.
"Knight-captain." She grinned from ear to ear as she wobbled from her table towards him. "What brings you to such an upstanding establishment on this dreary Tuesday evening?"
Cullen fidgeted uncomfortably with his collar, eyes darting every which way but hers before answering with a curt, "Templar business."
"Undercover work, is it?" Hawke smirked, eyeing his casual attire.
Cullen glanced down at his plain linen shirt, cheeks immediately flushing at the absence of a flaming sword upon his chest.
"What are you doing here?" he attempted to deflect.
"Well," Hawke hesitated for effect, "helping people has its rewards and all, but it isn't exactly a reliable source of income."
It took Cullen a moment to make sense of her words, the startled look of discomfort on his face immensely satisfying. "You mean, you're…"
"Oh, please," Hawke snorted in amusement, "I'm here for the whores and booze, same as you."
Cullen's shoulders visibly relaxed before almost immediately tensing back up. "Now, hang on just a minute, I am not-"
"There's no shame in it," she spoke over him.
"I didn't say there was, but I-"
"I imagine a man in your position has little patience for wooing," she predicted. "Far more convenient to pay someone for their time, no?"
"Remember to whom you speak," Cullen gritted, nostrils angrily flaring.
Hawke bristled at his tone, placing her hands on her hips and puffing up her chest. "If you are trying to imply that your position as a templar somehow puts you above me just because I wield magic, you are sorely m-"
"I insinuate nothing," he quickly cut her off, giving her a taste of her own medicine, "I am merely demonstrating a fact."
"The arrogance of this man," she spoke loudly to herself.
"And you are belligerent," Cullen snapped back.
Hawke opened her mouth to speak, hands balling into fists at her sides as she prepared to lay into him before realising with more than just a touch of smug satisfaction what his issue truly was.
"And there isn't a thing you can do about it, is there?" she practically purred as she sidled up to the bar beside him, piling on the disrespect by taking a casual sip of his drink. "Does that eat away at you?" she asked, tilting her head slightly to meet his stern gaze before turning her back to the bar and propping herself up on her elbows. "That you're not permitted to drag me into your little harrowing chamber? Teach me to fear magic and trust you and yours to protect me from myself?"
She tried her best not to flinch when he slammed his hands down on the bar at either side of her, the defined muscles of his jaw clenching violently as he rather admirably held his tongue.
"You're trying to provoke me," he eventually surmised, after enough time had passed that she had become far too acquainted with the unique amber blend of his surprisingly expressive eyes.
"Yes," she brazenly admitted.
"Why?"
Hawke shrugged. "You can tell a lot about a man by the way he reacts to provocation - just or otherwise."
Cullen released his white-knuckled grip on the bar and returned to his previous position beside her.
"For your information, the only thing that has been eating me up as of late is the fact that you, an unharrowed mage, are not at all what I have been conditioned to expect."
"Careful, knight-captain." Hawke grinned. "That almost sounded like a compliment."
"Don't flatter yourself," he japed, clearly trying to suppress a smirk.
"I don't need to when strapping young templars like you do it for me." Hawke teased, flashing him an exaggerated wink.
"Hawke," Cullen warned, his patience beginning to fray.
"Oh, lighten up," she complained, "you and I are hardly the first mage and templar who ever flirted and I very much doubt we'll be the last."
Cullen snorted mockingly. "Is that what we're doing?"
"I mean, you could probably stand to put in a bit more effort." Hawke pouted. "You haven't stared at my cleavage once."
Cullen had clearly had enough, downing the last of his drink before slamming his empty tankard down on the bar, his whispered parting words leaving her uncharacteristically flustered.
"Clearly you are not as observant as you think you are." He glanced deliberately at her chest after he spoke, one corner of his mouth ticking up in a sly smirk that completely changed his face.
Hawke had never thought the man's face ugly, but after witnessing such a smirk it was proving rather difficult not to imagine herself sitting on it.
In the months following their first "civil" encounter, Cullen became quite the regular. He'd begin his evenings intent on ignoring her but they always somehow ended up either quietly sharing a table or embroiled in a heated debate that usually ended with one or both of them breaking something.
Never stopped him from offering to walk her home though - an offer she often accepted and a fact she rarely let him forget.
How the knight-captain went out of his way to keep safe a free apostate, of all people. Teasing Cullen had become a very enjoyable pastime, one in which she was dangerously close to overindulging.
"Are you certain it's okay for us to be... socialising?" she asked. The question had been on the tip of her tongue for weeks.
"What do you mean?"
"Big bad mage, remember?"
Cullen chuckled. "You are fooling yourself if you believe anyone here thinks you are bad. Far from it, I'd wager."
"Oh, I don't know," she drawled, "sometimes I find a light spanking is necessary to keep me in line."
Cullen was the absolute picture of intensity as he stared back at her, one spine-tingling word leaving his full lips. "Noted."
Hawke held his gaze, heart beating just a little bit faster as she imagined what a spanking from him might look like. It was very easy to imagine he was thinking the same thing, what with the way his eyes roamed her body from head to toe.
"I should probably call it a night," Cullen eventually spoke, startling her from her lewd thoughts, "walk you home?"
"No, I think I'll stay awhile," she forced herself to respond, untrusting of her sudden libido surge not do something very stupid at the end of their walk.
...like tumble into her painfully empty home to do unspeakable things to him.
Almost as soon as he disappeared from view, Hawke noticed his doublet on the back of his vacated seat. She picked it up and quickly followed suit to catch him, but as she approached the foyer the sound of hushed whispers made her hesitate.
"Still nothing," she heard Cullen murmur, "I don't think she'll ever trust me enough to let her guard down."
"Patience." Meredith's voice sent a chill down her spine. "She's bound to slip up eventually, you just need to be more persuasive."
"What more can I do?"
"Her reputation is well known, Ser Cullen. Appeal to her ego, flatter her, bed her if you must. Just do whatever it takes to get me what I need!"
"And what if you're wrong?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"I don't mean to question you, knight-commander, but what if I haven't found evidence of blood magic yet because there simply is none?"
"She is a maleficar!"
Hawke couldn't believe she'd been so stupid. To think this entire thing had been anything more than a sodding Templar investigation!
She was still standing there when Cullen eventually returned in search of his forgotten belongings, the look on her face a clear indicator she'd heard the entire exchange.
Neither of them moved, both expecting the other to react first.
"Hawke," Cullen began, though it soon became apparent he had nothing to follow it up with.
"You know, I almost believed you were actually a real person," she seethed. "You must think I'm pretty fucking stupid."
"I don't."
"Stop lying to me!" she angrily interrupted. "If I ever catch you so much as glancing in my direction again, I will give you that evidence of blood magic you have been trying so hard to find."
She cast him the dirtiest look she could muster before barging past him and storming out into the cold night, her angry strides carrying her home in record time.
Hawke muttered to herself as she paced back and forth, berating herself for being so naïve. Had she really been so truly desperate to connect with someone that she hadn't seen the Templar sitting across from her this whole time?
In an effort to dispel some of her pent-up rage, she tugged at the fade and conjured up a flurry of fireballs, launching each of them with precision into the cold hearth until she was rudely interrupted by an insistent knock at the door.
"Do you have a death wish?" she asked after almost yanking the door off its hinges to find Cullen standing there.
"Please, just give me a moment to explain," he practically begged, palms up in supplication.
"Why would I trust a single word out of your mouth?"
"Please," he insisted, and although she knew it was idiotic she just couldn't bring herself to shut the door in his face when he was making those sad puppy-dog eyes.
"You have exactly three minutes before I incinerate you," she deadpanned, stepping to one side to allow him to enter.
Cullen closed her door behind him and took a few deep breaths for courage while warily eyeing the flame dancing between her fingers.
"It is true that I was instructed to become better acquainted with you in order to gain your trust," he cautiously admitted, as though expecting to be set aflame at any moment, "but somewhere along the way I..." Cullen hesitated, anxiously rubbing the back of his neck as he struggled to find the right words.
"My motivations changed," he eventually continued. "You stopped being an obligation and became... something more."
Cullen stared at her, the heavy silence prodding at her to speak but she refused.
"I have tried to fight it, Maker knows I've tried, but you have rooted yourself so thoroughly into my thoughts that there is little else I can think of."
Hawke’s heart beat faster at his words, but she held her tongue.
"I know I should try harder to ignore these feelings that I have for you, but the truth is... I don't want to. "
Hawke crossed her arms, plastering a bored expression on her face with the intent to devastate. "Are you done?"
"I know that what I did was unforgivable, but if you only knew the nights I have lain awake riddled with guilt-"
"Oh, you poor thing," Hawke sarcastically exclaimed, pressing a theatrical hand to her chest.
Cullen opened his mouth to respond, but he knew it was pointless. Instead he exhaled in defeat and turned to leave.
"Just answer me one question and I will never bother you again," he spoke calmly, turning once again to face her.
Hawke rolled her eyes and sighed in annoyance. "Fine."
"Look me in the eye and tell me you don't feel something for me."
Hawke stared up at him defiantly, infuriated by his apparent certainty that she wouldn't be able to and intent on declaring just how little she thought of him, but the words wouldn't come.
"It's time for you to leave," she spoke through gritted teeth, and for some bizarre reason, Cullen decided to take that as his cue to kiss her.
Hawke immediately slapped a hand across his cheek but he tried again, earning himself a hard shove until his back collided painfully with her door.
Her hand never left his chest as she held him in place, and he made no attempt to fight against the restraint.
She could feel his heart beating against her palm even faster than her own as he dared to tuck an errant lock of hair behind her ear.
And then she was kissing him.
She couldn't even recall deciding to do so, and yet there she was, fingers scraping against his scalp as she welcomed the caress of his tongue.
It wasn't long however before she remembered his betrayal, beating her fists against his chest hard and repeatedly until he was forced to restrain her.
He caught her wrist and span her around, wrapping her tightly in his arms as he held her back to his chest.
She closed her eyes when she felt the stubble of his chin against her cheek, equal parts angered and aroused. Her chest heaved as she breathed deeply, head lolling invitingly to one side to welcome the press of his lips. She managed to free one arm from his vice-like grip, sliding her fingers through his hair to grip a handful of his curls as he nibbled her earlobe.
Encouraged by her touch, Cullen's hand found her breast, squeezing eagerly as he lapped at her pulse with his tongue.
When she felt the unmistakable press of his arousal against her lower back, she turned in his arms and pulled him back to her lips.
Cullen was wisely cautious, clearly expecting another flurry of blows, but Hawke was done fighting.
She briefly broke their kiss to pull her shirt off over her head and Cullen quickly followed suit. As soon as she had finished kicking off her pants, a very naked Cullen hauled her off the ground and carried her towards the crackling fireplace.
He lay her down on the plush rug, slotting himself between her thighs as though it were the most natural thing in the world. He lowered his head to wet her nipple with a broad stroke of his tongue, taking the aroused peak between his teeth before opening his mouth wide to give it a hard suck.
Hawke arched her back beneath him, the resultant roll of her pelvis angling her just right for the tip of his cock to breach her.
She held her breath at the look he gave her, a question unspoken. There were so many things she wanted to say to him at that moment, all extremely unwise with a high probability of regret.
Instead of speaking, she simply nodded, granting him the consent he sought to continue. Her mouth fell open on a quiet gasp as he sank deeper, the moisture he'd already inspired helpfully aiding the snug fit.
The man was large.
Cullen buried his face in the crook of her neck as he slowly filled her, the fan of his controlled breaths cooling her skin until he bottomed out with a gruff moan.
She'd expected a hard fucking from there but he didn't seem to want to retreat an inch, choosing instead to remain deeply seated as he ground himself against her, igniting her nerves in ways she'd only ever managed to achieve herself.
Cullen's hands were everywhere: fingers gliding through her hair; knuckles brushing her jawline; palms flat against her breasts. The man was clearly touch-starved, and she was only too happy to satisfy his needs.
Hawke covered her own mouth when a particularly loud moan escaped her but Cullen was quick to tug it away, intent on hearing her scream as he worked her effortlessly towards climax.
When she inevitably reached her peak, Cullen’s groans of pleasure were almost as loud as her own. She thought for sure he'd finish with her but instead, he held himself steady, impressively allowing her to ride out the waves before vacating her cunt to replace his cock with his tongue.
"Holy fuck!" she practically screamed, covering her face with her hands in embarrassment at the ease with which her body responded to him.
The noises he made as he buried his face between her legs to taste her were a stimulation all their own. She'd argue he derived more pleasure from the act than even she did - and she found the things he was doing to her extremely pleasurable.
Cullen made her throat raw and her toes curl so many times over she thought for sure she was dreaming. He never allowed her a moment to consider the consequences of what they were doing, her attention kept thoroughly occupied either by his cock, fingers, tongue, and at one rather spectacular point all three.
Their activities weren’t contained to the one room, either. A trip to the kitchen for sustenance had led to him bending her over the worktop, and their journey upstairs was cut short when she'd straddled him halfway up.
It was the most at peace she had felt in an age.
Hawke eventually awoke in her bed to the gentle caress of Cullen's fingertips along her bare spine. She was lying on her stomach holding onto her pillow while Cullen lay propped up on one elbow beside her.
She opened one eye to look at him, voice hoarse from the cries of pleasure he'd plucked from her throat. "I think you may have to do me one more time if you still want that evidence you've been after."
"Hawke," Cullen humorously tutted, "that isn't funny."
Hawke chuckled to herself. "Inappropriate humour is my coping mechanism, Cullen. Haven't you figured that out yet?"
Cullen stared guiltily back at her for a moment before responding with a sincere, "I really am sorry."
"I know," she all but whispered, rolling onto her back to get a better view of his handsome face before provocatively stretching the sleep from her joints.
Suitably distracted, Cullen swept her long tresses off her chest to unearth her breasts and proceeded to draw featherlight circles around her nipples until they peaked.
"Having fun?" she japed, when it seemed he had become lost in his thoughts.
"My apologies." Cullen cleared his throat. "They are quite difficult to resist."
"Smooth talker," Hawke sultrily whispered against his lips as she pulled him into a slow indulgent kiss.
Cullen licked his lips when she finally released him, one hand affectionately grazing her cheek as he gazed into her eyes.
"What happens now?" he eventually asked, absently toying with a lock of her hair as though he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to hear her answer.
"Well..." Hawke exhaled a deep breath as she considered their options. "I guess you either tell Meredith your investigation is done and we don't see each other again or-"
"I like or," Cullen eagerly interrupted, "or sounds promising."
Hawke chuckled at his playfulness. "Or... you keep investigating me - by which of course I mean we keep doing the dance with no pants - until Meredith tires of waiting for me to become something I'm not."
"I'm not sure she ever will," Cullen gravely admitted.
"Lucky us." Hawke winked, tugging him into another deep kiss.
Cullen's hand slid slowly from her hip to her upper back, fingers gripping her shoulder almost possessively as his lips roamed her throat and chest.
Hawke revelled in his weight atop her, happily cradling his head in her arms when he pressed his cheek to her bosom.
"Sun's coming up," Cullen noted after a long stretch of comfortable silence, "I should probably go."
Hawke grumbled in protest, holding his head tighter to her breast in the hopes it might convince him to stay.
Cullen happily indulged, hungrily devouring her flesh though only for a moment before breaking away in search of his clothes.
Hawke eventually dragged herself out of bed, pulled on a robe and followed him downstairs. Cullen was already disappointingly dressed, waiting patiently for her to see him off.
"I wish I could stay," he apologised, pulling her hand to his lips. "See you at The Rose?"
"Of course." Hawke smiled sadly, snaking her arms around his neck to give him a goodbye kiss he wouldn't soon forget.
It went even better than she had planned, Cullen's quickening breaths and wandering hands a clear indicator his will was rapidly crumbling. And when she flipped their positions, trapping herself between his large frame and her front door, she knew she had him.
"Perhaps five more minutes wouldn't hurt," Cullen easily relented, and Hawke wasted little time in plucking at the ties of his trousers until they were just loose enough for him to hoist her off the ground and take her right there against the door.
Hawke was well aware that sleeping with the templar knight-captain who had been tasked with investigating her for blood magic was a stupendously terrible idea.
But it certainly wouldn't be boring.