Mostly just me playing around with tropes (Sex Pollen, Sex or Die). I have the whole thing written, so I'll probably post the next chapter tomorrow or Friday. I hope you like it!

Also, warning: dubcon. I don't personally think it is, but hey, stories are meant to be interpreted, so some people might feel that way (esp. with these tropes), and I wouldn't want anyone to feel uncomfortable.

Cullen lurched awake, his hand reaching for is sword as a messenger burst into his office. The hooded carrier drew up short when he saw the Commander at his desk, clearly still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. It wasn't in and of itself unusual for the runners to find the Commander asleep at his desk, but they all knew he was especially irritable when just woken.

Cullen glared and snapped, "Report!"

The messenger saluted, clearly trying not to tremble at Cullen's fierce tone. "Commander, Ser! Message from the Inquisitor's party at Redcliff. For your eyes only."

Cullen took the folded parchment and dismissed the man with a wave of his hand. Tearing open the seal, he scanned the four words written in what looked like a shaky version of Cassandra's hand.

Inquisitor injured. Come quickly.

An unfamiliar tightness squeezed at his chest as an image of Inquisitor Trevelyan flashed through his mind. Breathtakingly beautiful. She was all full curves and throaty laugh with flashing green eyes that called the Fade to mind. Cullen could stare at her all day, and much to his embarrassment, had found himself doing just that during War Council meetings, wondering if her creamy skin was as soft as it looked.

He shook his head. He had harbored these unworthy feelings for her since the moment they'd met, or nearly so. Something about Lady Trevelyan inspired his basest desires, and Cullen was fighting a losing battle to stay away from her. Surely a highborn noblewoman such as Elena Trevelyan would have no time for the likes of him.

Cullen glanced down at the note in his hand and instead saw his clenched fist. He carefully unwrinkled the parchment and re-read it. Injured. Maker's breath, what could possibly have happened to her? And why had Cassandra sent for him, of all people? Though his Templar training had taught him the basics of healing–enough, anyway, to staunch a wound on the battlefield–he was hardly the person to call when someone was injured.

But of course he would go to her; there was no question.

Tossing the note on his desk, he made for the stables, leaving his armor behind, and barking out orders to his officers to hold the Castle in his stead. With naught but his sword and a light pack of provisions, he galloped out into the night, his steed's hooves ringing on the stone drawbridge.

Cullen made the ride to Redcliff in half the time it usually took–stopping only to change horses or gulp down a few mouthfuls of food. He rode into the war-torn village around sunset the next day, and was immediately directed to the Inn when he asked an inconspicuous Inquisition soldier were he could find the Inquisitor's party.

Moments after he clattered into the Inn's courtyard, he leapt from the saddle and thrust his horse's reins at the stable boy. He was through the door in moments, eyes scanning the common room for a familiar face. Finally his gaze alighted on a motley cluster at the back of the room. Cassandra sat, stony faced and arms crossed over her chest, while Varric drained what looked like his tenth mug of ale. Dorian's face was ashen.

Cullen strode over to them, his heat pounding in time with the fall of his boots.

"Where is she?" He all but demanded.

"Commander, thank the Maker you're here," Cassandra said, waking from her reverie. She glanced at Dorian and Varric. "Perhaps we should take this to a private location."

Her companions nodded a began to gather up their things. Cullen squeezed the bridge of his nose. "What in the name of Andraste's asshole is going on?"

"We'll take you to her in just a moment," Dorian assured him, placing a heavy hand on Cullen's shoulder. "But we need to explain what happened first. Seeing her might be…shocking."

Cullen ground his teeth at the Mage's words. What the hell was going on? His worry had only grown on his ride, and their secretive actions were only making him more nervous.

They made their way silently upstairs to a private dining room. Once the door was locked, Cullen turned to the others.

"Well?" He demanded.

They glanced at one another before Cassandra finally spoke. "Dorian, perhaps you should…"

Dorian nodded, and motioned for everyone to sit. "We were closing a rift nearby. Everything was going well–demons everywhere, lots of screaming, you know, the usual–"

At Cullen's hard glare, Dorian shook his head and continued. "She almost had the rift closed. We were all busy with a Pride Demon, and suddenly, we heard Elena scream." Dorian paused, swallowing hard. "A desire demon had snuck up on her–it takes a lot of concentration to close the rift, I think. Anyway, by the time we got to her, the demon had gotten her claws into Elena's side. Cassandra beheaded the thing, but I think…I think because the Inquisitor was in the process of closing the rift, something went wrong."

Cullen felt his hands curl into fists at his sides. Wrong? What did that mean? He cleared his throat, his mind spinning at the possible implications. "And?"

"Well, she was fine, nothing a health poultice wouldn't fix. Until night fell. It started with a fever, and then chills. She was shaking horribly, and we couldn't figure out what was wrong with her," Dorian continued. "So we brought her here. Somewhere between camp and the Inn, she started to…well…writhe, I guess is the best way of putting it."

He stopped, and Cassandra and Varric shared a look. Cullen frowned, still not quite understanding what he was missing. "Well, what exactly's wrong with her?"

Cassandra cleared her throat and stood. "It might be easier if we showed you."

After a moment, Cullen nodded, and followed her to a door at the back of the room. This must be one of the Inn's suites–a common room leading to private bedchambers. Cassandra unlocked the door, swinging it open. Cullen squinted, his eyes adjusting to the gloom. He hissed in a breath, his body heating at the sight before him.

Elena lay across a large bed, half clothed and undulating against the sheets. Her hips bucked up and down, her chest jutting out as she ran her hands over her body, cupping her own breasts, tweaking her nipples, stroking between her legs.

She turned at the sound of their entry, her eyes glassy and unfocused. When she saw him, though, she gasped, and bit her lower lip, dragging it through her teeth.

"Cullen" she whispered, her voice throaty and low.

"She's been asking for you since noon yesterday," Cassandra whispered. "Dorian thinks the Desire Demon envenomed her–she needs to, ah, get her desires out of her system before she can heal. Dorian thinks it would pass on it's own, but it would be a slow, possibly lethal process. Her best chance is for someone to, um, help her along."

Cullen stared, eyes wide in disbelief. "Are you telling me, Seeker Pentaghast, that you want me to…to…fuck the Herald of Andraste back to sanity?"

Cassandra didn't flinch at his harsh language, instead she poked him in the chest as she spoke in a clear, commanding voice. "That's exactly what I'm telling you, Commander. She's been begging for you."

Cullen swallowed and glanced back at Elena where she lay sprawled. Her crimson hair was like a dark fan around her head in the low light, and he could feel his body responding to her. He bit back a curse–but it was only the Desire Demon venom making her crave him–could he truly do this to her? Take her when she was so out of her mind with lust?

"And Dorian is sure she might die if I don't…help?"

"Death, or excruciating pain," Dorian called from behind them.

Cullen frowned. The desire to help her, to be with her, was strong, but he didn't want to take advantage of her in this state. Perhaps he could alleviate her needs without servicing his own. His conscience felt less guilty at the thought.

Squaring his shoulders, Cullen nodded to the others. "Alright. I'll do it."

The relief on Cassandra's face was almost painful. With a resolute look back at the others in the room, Cullen stepped through into the bedchamber and closed the door behind him.

Elena looked up at him as he took a few tentative steps forward. A slow, sultry smile spread over her lips as she reached for him.

"Cullen," she whispered again. "I need you, Cullen. Will you stay with me?"

This close to her, he could see a thin sheen of sweat across her skin and her cheeks were flushed a feverish pink. After a moment's hesitation, he sat on the edge of the bed and took her hands between his own.

"Yes, Inquisitor. I'll stay with you until you're feeling better," his voice sounded formal and faraway, even to his own ears–he was going to pleasure this woman for hours, possibly days, and yet he still called her by her title.

Cullen wasn't quite sure what to think of himself at the moment.

Elena, however, seemed quite pleased with his response, and her smile widened at his words. Quicker than he thought possible in her state, she rose up on her knees and moved towards him, straddling his hips. Instinctively, Cullen wrapped his arms around her, holding upright. Slowly, she ran her fingers through his hair, stroking over his scalp and down to his neck, sending shivers down his spine. She brushed over his face, following the line of his jaw, up to the curve of his cheeks, before running her fingertips lightly down his scar and over his lips. Cullen took a sharp intake of breath, unaccustomed to being caressed and petted.

She leaned forward and put her lips at his ear, her soft breath tickling his skin, sending a flood of desire crashing through his body. "Touch me, Cullen. Put your hands on me, please."

His heart pounded in his chest, his cock going rock hard at her words. Maker's breath, this had to be some sort of torture designed especially for him–the woman he'd lusted after, all but begging for him to take her. But only because of a Desire Demon.

Elena began rocking her hips against his lap, her breath coming out in hard little pants, her breasts rubbing against his chest.

"Touch me, Cullen," she urged.

Well, a man only had so much discipline. With a groan he tightened his arms around her, cupping the back of her neck in one large hand and twisted them to lay on the bed. She fell beneath him with a soft, excited gasp, her hips continuing their torturous, taunting rhythm. Maker's breath she felt good there, pinned between his hard body and the soft bed. Cullen stroked her cheek, reveling in it's softness. She arched her back, her full breasts thrusting towards his face. Cullen groaned at the sight. She wore only a loose white chemise, and he could see the hard buds of her nipples through the thin fabric. Another wave of powerful lust tore through him as he imagined sucking on them, licking and biting them until they ached.

Taking a deep breath, he tore his eyes away from her breasts. Cupping her face gently between his hands, he tipped her head towards him. He needed to say this, first. Though he didn't know if she would understand his reassurances, he hoped that whenever she came out of this state his words would comfort her.

"Elena, sweet, look at me," he commanded.

After a moment, her hazy gaze turned to him.

When he spoke, he did so in a low, deliberate voice, hoping she would understand what he was trying to communicate. "I'm going to take care of you, sweetheart, as long as it takes. As long as you want me here. I don't want you to worry about anything beyond this room. Not the future, not what the others are thinking, just focus on helping me get you better."

He held her gaze, hoping she understood him.

"Cullen," she panted. biting her lip, her hips still moving against his aching shaft. "Cullen, please."

Fuck. The sight of her lying there, biting her lip and begging him was too much. With a moan, Cullen crashed his lips against hers. His kiss was savage, lips and teeth and tongue seeking her out, drinking down her soft cries of delight. Nearly a year of pent up longing and lust spilling out between them. She locked her legs around his waist and buried her fingers in his hair, her nails scoring over his scalp. He would give her what she needed, as many times as she needed it.

Tangling a fist into her bright curls, Cullen tilted her head to the side, exposing the long column of her neck. He kissed his way along her cheek, down her jaw, to trail down her elegant throat. Maker's mercy she tasted like honeysuckle and sunlight. He groaned, sucking her soft skin and laving it with his tongue. Elena bucked beneath him, riding his shaft through his trousers with wild abandon. He could feel the heat from her body, from between her thighs, tight against his cock and he wanted nothing more than to sink into her hot, willing body.

He bit her collarbone and she gasped as he rubbed his stubbled jaw against the delicate skin just above her lush breasts. Easing up above her, Cullen slowly unlaced the front of her chemise with trembling fingers, peeling the thin fabric away from her body until her breasts were bare before him. He groaned.

"Andraste's mercy but you're perfect," he whispered reverently as he took in the full swell of her breasts and the tight, dusky pink nipples.

She whimpered and arched her back, begging him with her body to touch her, to give into his desires. Cullen cupped her breasts; they filled his hands perfectly, her full, soft flesh spilling out through his fingers. Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he bent his head, and sucked one pouty nipple into his mouth.

His eyes closed and he moaned around the tight little bud at her taste. Sucking hard, her nails raked down his back as he raked his teeth over it.

"Cullen, oh Cullen, please more," she begged, her hands traveling down his body, stroking his back until she pulled his shirt from his trousers.

He broke away from her perfect breasts long enough for her yank his shirt over his head, and then he was back, cupping them both in his hands, pressing them together so he could alternate his sucking from one pert peak to the other. Dimly, he was aware of her exploring his bare chest and back, of her delicate fingers stroking his skin and tracing the lines of his muscles and old scars. Her touch was light and curious, as if she wanted to know every inch of him just as badly as he wanted to know her.

When he had kissed and licked and bit every inch of her breasts, and she was writhing against him with need, Cullen began kissing her lower, to her slim waist and flared hips. He tasted her navel, her hipbones, until he hovered over the soft thatch of red curls between her legs. He glanced up at her and nearly came undone from the rapturous look of anticipation on her lovely face. Wrapping his hands around her thighs, Cullen anchored her hips to the bed, and slowly lowered his mouth to her. He inhaled deeply, taking in her sweet, feminine scent, his cock throbbing with want.

Cullen pressed a kiss to her, his caress chaste save for where his lips touched her body. She nearly jolted off of the bed at the contact, a throaty, needy moan falling from her lips. She was soaking wet, desire coating her thighs; he carefully began to lap it up, cleaning her soft skin, never quite touching her where she wanted it the most. If he could make her make such a noise from only a small kiss, what could he do after he'd stoked her lust?

Finally, after her hips began to buck in protest, he dragged his tongue over her entrance is a slow, firm caress. Their moans echoed off the walls, his at the taste of her body's honey, her, no doubt, in relief at his touch. He lapped at her again, stroking her flesh, exploring her entrance with his tongue and teeth and lips. She was so sensitive it was maddening; each touch of his tongue to her brought another low moan or gasp. Cullen began licking her in earnest, his tongue delving into her tight heat as he rolled his hips against the mattress, desperate for friction against his swollen shaft.

Elena's breath began to come in sharp pants, and her legs shook around his head. He knew she was close, and he licked his tongue up the length of her, wrapping his lips around her aching little clit. With a firm suck, she screamed, and Cullen pressed one finger into her entrance, a wave of lust crashing over him so powerful he was nearly blinded by it as her body clenched around him, pulling his digit deep inside. He continued to lick her, to suck at her clit as she gripped his hair, tugging his face closer to her body, her hips rolling in desperation towards his mouth.

Words of nonsense spilled from her lips, pleas for him to continue, praise for him, words of passion and desire. What he wouldn't give to hear her say such things to him all the time–for her to be his woman in truth.

After her grip on his hair lessened, and her legs stopped shaking, Cullen lifted his head, surveying her face with a deep, masculine pride filling his chest. Elena lay back against the bed, replete and flushed, her breasts quivering as she gasped for breath. He rose up on this knees and ran his hands over her body, marveling at the softness of her skin under his rough palms.

"How are you, sweetheart?" He whispered, flicking his thumbs over her nipples.

Her eyes opened at his words and another sultry smile spread across her red lips. "More," she breathed. "I want more."

Cullen couldn't stop his answering grin–he wanted nothing more than to give her everything she desired.

Elena rose up to meet him, gripping his shoulders and pulling him towards her, capturing his lips in a fierce kiss. Her bare breasts pressed against his naked chest as he crushed her to his body, wrapping her in his arms and bringing her close. She ran her hands down his back, over his hips until her deft fingers began working the laces of his breeches.

"What are you doing?" he murmured against her lips, his hands curling around her own to stop her movements.

"I want to touch you, too," she moaned, desperation in her voice. "I need to see you, and touch you. Please."

Cullen swallowed. He hadn't planned on allowing this, on taking any pleasure from her beyond what he gave, but if she wanted it–nay, if she needed it, he couldn't refuse. After a moment, he nodded, releasing her hands. In seconds she had his trousers down to his knees, and his cock in her hands. Cullen moaned into her mouth at the feeling of her soft, delicate fingers stroking his aching shaft. Curling his hands around her face, he kissed her harder, stroking his tongue over her own as she sucked on his lower lip. Her hands moved gently, teasingly over his cock, caressing him, tracing the veins. When her light fingers cupped his sac, he bucked uncontrollably forward, the broad head sliding along the smooth skin of her stomach.

Breaking their kiss, Elena began teasing her way down his body, pausing to kiss his nipples, his abdomen, the harsh vee of muscle cutting down his hips. Cullen gazed down at her, his breath catching in his throat. Elena was crouched on her hands and knees before him, her long red hair spread along her back and spilling down her shoulders around her face. She gazed up at him, blatant adoration in her glassy eyes. She nuzzled his hip, her lips and nose brushing against the base of his cock and his aching balls. With another heated look, she ghosted her lips along his length, until her mouth hovered over the tip. A mischievous smirk playing on her lips, she traced her tongue over the flared edge of his crown, lapping up precum and teasing his slit.

Cullen fought to keep his eyes open, so that he could watch her explore his manhood, so that he could see the eager expression on her lovely face. She leaned forward and sucked at him like she might suck on a sweet, her lush lips making an obscene and erotic frame for his shaft. All he wanted to do was bury his hands in her hair and thrust forward, until he was fully seated down her throat. Summoning up the last shreds of his discipline, he restrained himself, instead waiting with anticipation to see what she would do next.

Elena began to work her lips down his shaft, her hand stroking in time from the base upwards. Her tongue swirled around him, tracing the veins as she moved farther and farther along his cock. Each lap of her tongue was another burst of pleasure scorching down his body. Tilting his head back, Cullen moaned, his fingers finally curling into her hair, pulling it away from her face so he could see her better. She began to rub her legs together, seeking out relief. At her movements, an idea struck him.

"Elena, sweet, wait," he murmured, slowly pulling away from her.

She looked up at him, her expression somewhere between a sensual pout and real displeasure. "But I want–"

Cullen lifted her, cutting off her words as he maneuvered their bodies, until he lay flat across his back, her sweet, wet entrance hovering over his mouth while she sprawled down his chest and abdomen, her face just above his cock. She seemed confused as to why he moved her, and she hesitated to see what he would do next. Desperate for the heat of her mouth around him again, Cullen spread her desire slicked lips and began licking her gently. Over the swell of her pert ass, he saw her throw her head back, a groan falling from her lips.

"Taste me again," he ordered gently.

She wrapped her hand around his cock once more, stroking him lazily as she ran her tongue over the tip. He moaned into her wet cunt, the feeling of her hot mouth wrapped around his aching shaft almost too much. Elena continued exploring him, licking along his length, lapping the broad crown, suckling gently at his ballocks. Her soft, full breasts pressed just blow his heart. Cullen gripped her ass, massaging her pert cheeks as he buried his face between her thighs. From the way she undulated atop him, her hips rocking back and forth across his face as his tongue sought out her sweet, honeyed flesh, he knew she was once again close.

Gently, he began to rock his hips towards her sweet mouth, this cock throbbing to plunge deep inside of her. Elena gave him as much pleasure as she took, her lips sliding further down his length in their new position. Her hands gripped his thighs, nails digging into his muscles as she sucked him down, her nose brushing against his sac. Cullen groaned, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the burning lust sweeping over his body. Pressing two fingers into her tight sheath, he began suckling her clit in earnest, desperate to taste her release on his tongue the same moment she tasted his. Her body began to shake over his, her hips rolling in a desperate rhythm with his hands and mouth.

"Elena, I'm going to–" he started, hoping to warn her of the seed rising up his aching shaft.

She moaned, sucking hard at his cock and taking him deep. Cullen buried his face against her soaking entrance, his moans of pleasure turned into frantic lapping as he came in powerful hot spurts. Whiteness exploded across his vision at the intensity of their shade pleasure. She drank his seed, moaning around his cock as her release flooded his mouth.

Cullen rolled them onto their sides, curling her body more tightly around him as he wrung every last drop of pleasure form her, all the while his hips thrusting into her soft, willing mouth. With a final gasp and obscene pop, Elena relinquished his cock, resting her head against his thigh. As he gazed down at her, Cullen felt a swell of pride in his chest at the soft, sated smile curling over her lips. Mindful to be gentle, he pulled her up so that she lay next to him, her head resting on his chest.

"Sleep, now," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Your body must be exhausted." He knew his certainly was.

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