Chapter Text
Breathing hurt.
The dragging hiss of the lungs as they expanded, the empty dizziness of the head as oxygen poured through it. Damon brought the hands up to stare at them, eyes narrowing at their thick bluntness. He flexed and squeezed them, testing their power.
Cullen was dead.
His spirit had departed for the Fade, at any rate. Damon clenched the hands again, his hands and reveled in the stretch of the still-warm skin, the tug of the tendons, the subtle creak of the bones. Closing his eyes, he breathed in the scent of the battlefield. Blood, death, disgusting: he loved it. Every nerve in the body burned. The scratch of the undershirt, the cold metal on the neck where the armor touched. The deep blue of the sky, the soft glow of the corrupted lyrium. He loved it all. It was his to experience, his to feel.
"Cullen!"
Damon blinked, turning at the sound. The body was stiff. He'd healed the wounds that had claimed the Commander's life but it didn't stop the dull ache that made the spine shudder when he moved. He cleared the—his—throat. "I'm here."
Arms wrapped around his neck; long brown hair flew into his face. He smelled tears. "You're alive. Thank the Maker, you're alive!"
Damon stared at her, recognizing the Inquisitor from all the nights he'd spent watching her in the Fade. She'd been so bright then—a beacon amidst the black. "I'm alive," he said, pulling her closer. Her hair smelled of vanilla and parchment. When it brushed against his face, it was softer than silk. Her breath was sweet when she cupped his face, pressing her forehead against his.
"Thank the Maker," she sobbed before catching him in a kiss.
Damon savored the emotions on her lips: panic, fear, joy, relief, desire. He pressed her body close to his own, slipping his tongue into her mouth. It was different with a body of his own. Tasting her, feeling her warmth, fingers tugging at his hair. The blood within him burned as he pressed her down, knowing this routine well.
"Cullen." She broke apart with a laugh, her hand pressing on his chest.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing." She was smiling as she stared at his eyes, looking at the man who was already gone. "I'm glad you're alive too, but we should save that part for later."
"Later…?" He stared at her lips, tongue running along his own. He'd seen the pair of them, watched them as all Spirits watched from beyond the Veil. Fingers digging into her skin, a moan on her lips, body squirming for more. It was all his now.
"Yes, later." She kissed him again, a gentle gesture he wasn't sure what to do with. "Once we're alone."
"Do you promise?"
"Of course." She clung to him, a grin plastered on her face.
Damon tucked her under his chin, fingers running along her back. There were so many pleasures in this world, so many things to experience. And tonight, he'd start with her.