Cullen/M!mage Adaar; "your last kiss still lingers, an echo of what once was, just like you are now" (so tranquil... destroy me please)
I aim to please but oh my god, Dark!Cullen
âIt was the right thing to do,â Cullen muttered, pacing in front of his desks. Carding his fingers through the mess atop his head, only for the gauntlet to catch on coarse blond hair. With a grunt and a pained grimace, he pulled his hand free and unbuckled the gauntlet to throw it carelessly into the corner of a room. Heaving a breath, he turned sharply to face the Tranquil heâd ordered to his office. âA choice had to be made, and I was the only one who could make it.â
âYou made the right choice, Knight-Commander,â Adaar tried to reassure him. It only made the knot of guilt in his chest tighten. He looked at the once proud man standing slouched before him to appear smaller, to appease. They had sawn off his once magnificent horns, that used to curl dangerously and enticingly around his head, now mere stumps at his temples. The sight distracted him for a little while from the sunburst on his forehead.
âI made the only choice that could be made,â Cullen corrected gently, stepping forward to caress Adaarâs cheek. The Vashoth stared blankly at him, the face that used to openly display awe and anger, joy and grief reduced to an impassive mask. He remembered those eyes shining brightly, those lips falling open in prayer as the mage reached his orgasm. Remembered the satisfaction and accomplishment he used to feel, that he could bring the man such simple pleasures.
A demon, trying to trick him. Desire, lusting after a mage. It never ended well for him. The temptations of an abomination- he had to act. The demon already had all of the Inquisition wrapped around his little finger, and he was their Commander, he had sworn to protect. He had withstood temptation, at great personal cost. But taking lyrium again was the only way to ensure his Smite and Silence would hold the powerful creature.
The Tranquil didnât reply. Cullen let his fingers rest on his lips for a moment, yearning for something that could not be had. Tranquils couldnât say no â couldnât consent. He knew not all templars let that hold them back, but the Knight-Commander wasnât that far gone. He had to be an example to the men under his command, no matter how tempting the man before him was. With a huff, he stepped back and turned back around, laying his hands flat on his desk.
âYour last kiss still lingers, an echo of what once was,â Cullen confessed, staring down at the papers before him, eyes unfocussed. Didnât think of what ifs, didnât think of could have beens. Didnât think of the green magic still sparkling on Adaarâs hand, a testament of his fate. It had been the right choice. It had to be. âJust like you are now.â
