sealing a rift, cullen having played keep-away with the demons as the inquisitor seals the rift, clenches fingers over the palm that burns and stings and when the inquisitor breathes out with a sudden gasp because it's done, cullen glances over, finishes taking care of the last demon. they're a good team, a mismatched one but a good one -- who would have thought that the doubting templar would end up fighting alongside someone who shares little of the same discipline yet all of the same responsibilities? and the inquisitor laughs and cullen feels it like that lyrium burn in his veins, so much better, straight to his head, and maybe it's the adrenaline, maybe it's something else, but he's giving something like a half-smirk to the inquisitor and the inquisitor is looking at him like he could, probably, treat cullen like prey in either the gentlest or roughest way possible. and maybe cuillen is used to that, yet it's always so much less... hungry, when authorities would keep an eye on him. they were always waiting to see him trip or call someone else out for such. the blades dipped in mage's blood haunt his dreams but that is not the same look the inquisitor gives him, and it seems all too quickly that the inquisitor says "oh, really" in response to a proposition cullen can't even really remember giving, the blood is rushing so loud in his ears, and maybe he grits his teeth a bit uncomfortably because what's h e doing, what's he doing, when he says "yes, really, inquisitor --" and he steps forward and takes the inquisitor's face between his hands for a kiss, long and a little like he has to prove something. and the inquisitor leads him back against the wall, dirty alley wall, and it's not that time that they accomplish much more than making out like teenagers, but it's a start. it takes a while to get cullen to do much more than that, anyhow; and it's not for weeks after the first time that he even touches the inquisitor again, albeit with hands that wander a little more instead of pulling, hands that seek and explore almost savoring the moment. because there's nothing to prove if he's allowing himself this, and he's seen templars, his friends, fall to vices better than lust. he's had crushes on fellow men, women, seen them torn apart from the inside out by demons. seen them scream into their hands silently. but the inquisitor is no demon, and cullen is no failure, and biting kisses can be made into soft, eager things with gentle sounds between lips that part and gasp and plead