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Loneliest (Handle With Care)

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Cullen flicked the left shower knob with his right hand, while tossing the ragged dirty fabric he had been gripping with his left on the bathroom floor.  Cold water poured from the faucet before his left hand flicked the shower nozzle knob to on.  In a flash, his sweat naked form stepped into the cold stream and wetted his sculpted body.  The commander groaned as he leaned into the cold stream of water, his palms pressed into the tile wall in front of him.

Oh Maker, that was the best and worst sensation ever.

Panting and readjusting his stance in the shower stall, the commander waited for the relief the cold water supposedly gave when a man felt like this.  His eyes squeezed shut to center himself as he had been taught during PTSD behavior sessions.  He focused on his breathing and how his diaphragm pulled air through his wet nose and out his mouth. 

A few minutes passed.  He heard the bathroom ceiling fan over the streaming liquid, denoting he forgot to close the glass shower door.  Water likely pooled on the barrack bathroom tiles outside the shower, making a slipper mess soaking his bath pad and that dingy torn fabric that partly caused this whole situation.

Slowly, Cullen’s amber eyes opened, his sight focusing downward.  His pupils followed his slowing chest each breath.  His fully cut and tight abs followed down his stomach and abdomen.  A line of curly blond hair followed from his lightly dusted chest down through his inny belly button toward his ultimate goal.

Sticking out from several dozen twisting golden coarse curls was the most pronounced and aching hard erection Cullen has ever remembered or experience in his thirty-some years.  He was not a small man, but not stupidly long, while his girth usually comfortably stretched his past partners in ways they never experienced before.  None of the women who felt this penis inside the heated canals complained about him, only whispering and moaning praises between gasps of his name and the words more please.  At least Cullen was a natural at something in his fucked-up life.

The commander turned the cold water faucet on high, muttering under his breath at the straight and painful erection to go away.  He angled his pelvis so the streaming water fell directly on the groin, his balls tight against his shaft not because they were cold, but to release their payload when ready.

“Shit shit shit…”  The Fereldan mumbled, only feeling the urges more than damping his lust.

It was not like Cullen did not mind taking himself in hand.  Like most other males, he did it somewhat regularly, partly to “clean the pipes” as some doctor retorted while he was in the templars.  Medical research even encouraged masturbation as a way to assist the prostate from aging difficulties common in older men.

As a kid, Cullen would run to his favorite pond away from the family farm.  On hot summer days as he body suffered through puberty, he would swim naked and alone in his resting place, giving into the boy urges that came with heighten hormones.  Maker, he wondered how much of his flowing protein contributed to the growing number of fish.  Ewwww.

The elder Rutherford was not stupid enough like Branson.  Oh, one Mia’s letter depicted who their mother caught their little brother with a Victoria Secret magazine in the family bathroom.  The story got the whole templar barracks laughing and sharing their own embarrassing adolescent wanking tales.  That was one of those huge bonding moments between the young men.  They each knew at least one guy in training that seemed to have to pinch off a load once a night when he thought everyone was asleep.  Oh, he was never quiet.

No, Cullen’s issue with handling his stiff erection now was the source of his wild lust.  He fell asleep watching on his laptop earlier, the first time he actually allowed exhaustion to overtake his constantly working mind.  However, he stupidly left that music video on repeat and nearly blasting through the speakers.  The fluttering leaves and white linen dress were the last images he remembered before the Fade took him.  In those images, his shifting dreams made a delicious movie that left him desiring for the woman haunting him.

The woman was not Evie…ish?  Much like filtering through his memories and dreams the last few days, Evie’s image and voice interconnected with the migraine-inducing nightmares now so common each night he purposely worked day and night to avoid seeing the mental videos.  Interlaced with sparkling bright green eyes were chocolate brown, or Cullen thought they were brown.  He only saw the woman’s—or women—eyes before their moans and crashing orgasms.  Sometimes, the images go from Evie’s teary half painted face panting against Cullen’s neck while his fingers dug deeper into her cunt to a bobbed haircut woman pressed against a sandstone wall wearing that white embroidery dress.   Each pant from her, a sweet alcoholic breath tickles Cullen’s jaw as she mewls as his dick shoved deeper into the warmest wettest vagina Cullen had ever imagined.

The dream woman or women’s orgasms were similar, their facial expressions nearly mirroring.  Their howls through the ecstasy were nearly identical except for a few inflections and accented cries.  The lady Cullen pressed with each thrust into the sandstone wall torn her dulled fingernails down his back.  With a naked leg lounging against his bare hip, she grabbed his naked bottom.  Those dull nails bore into the tissue just spurring Cullen more to thrust faster and faster until she cummed again.  With his hungry whiskey eyes, the sandstone walls shifts to a hotel room entry way.  One of his hand tweak the panting Evie pressed against the wall.  Against her naked leg hung on his clothed hip while Cullen’s thumb flicked again and again against her pulsing bundle of nerves.

“Ugh…Maker…”  Cullen groaned as somehow more skin stretched around his penis.  At his point, nearly all of his blood will fill the stiff member, leading him to tip over and pass out from the lack of oxygen reaching his thumping upper head.

The commander did not want to do this, but his daydreaming and reflection demanded he follow through with his wants.  That roaring lion that paced and huffed behind that caged and bolted door inside his soul stretched his deadly paws through the bars.  It was lustfully hungry.  The dirty images of that woman or women mimicked his desires for a lioness to conquer.

No, Cullen thought.  He cannot object Evie like the rest of the world.  Yes, he fingered her to completion before but she asked him to, pleading for a moment to feel and release all the anguish built up in that caged celebrity world she was forced to live.  However, that inner lion awoke in those moments.  It was too dangerous to allow it free sending Cullen back into his old habits fucking anything with a vagina and drowning in alcohol and lyrium to forget the torture and hells.  That other woman who he goaded through her orgasm was likely such a whore, some cunt who lusted for him and he left naked and exhausted after he had his fill.  That used to be his signature move.  He made Samson’s relationships look like true love.  No wonder he could not remember her face or when it happened, if it ever did.

No, the Fereldan refused to use Evie’s image for these sexual purposes.  He made a vow to be professional, to keep his hidden wants and desires separate from being Evie’s bodyguard.  She was one of the most important people to his best friend, Rian.  The Inquisitor trusted him to protect and respect his little sister.  And here Cullen stood under an icy cold shower and desired to use her image to beat off and purge his seed on the tiles.

However, what they don’t know won’t hurt them or him.

Cullen roared in the shower, slamming his fist a few times against the tiled walls.  His erection now looked purple, twitching for any attention for relief.  The panting resumed as the flashes of memories and wishes flickered behind his eyes.  He began to shake.

“Fuck it…!”  Cullen forcibly declared, grasping his thick penis with his right hand.  Instantly, it twitched and pulsed.  His calluses rubbed against the wet sensitive skin, reminding the commander this was not that soft, tight warm cunt he would die if ever allowed to plunge his member into someday.  “Eve…”  He whined as his other arm supported his leaning form as he slowly pumped his hand over the stiff penis.

The first image was the first day Cullen ever met Evie.  Her sweat-soaked clothes cupped that magnificent body as she pranced and bent her flexible body around her loft.  Every so often, the scene flicked to unmade bed with a window above the metal backboard.  Neon lights from the midnight Hightown market outside lit that mysterious woman with her tank top pushed up under her armpits.  Both of her breasts laid free of her clothing, the nipples hard and ready for his touch.  She demonstrated her flexibility.  Both legs spread eagle in a horizontal split.  Her groin was still covered by her cargo khakis, but Cullen had at least unzipped the front, allowing her see-through blue thong to peak out and call Cullen to the sex they barely covered.

“You won’t break me.”  The mysterious woman sassed dripping with lust followed by Evie’s smirk after throwing the knife at Cullen in her loft. 

In the loft, Cullen’s growl sounded harsh and daring, nothing like the first time his whiskey eyes laid on Evie’s face.  “I plan to prove your wrong.”  That lust baritone challenged to the dancer.  He never told Evie that, but he knew his lust seeing her move and dance made him think that.

The commander’s hips joined his slowly pumping hand.  His body worked himself like he would work Evie or that other woman.  It was easier to fuck his hand thinking of this random past woman than imagining it about the singer who was now his charge.  While he did not know anything about this past random woman, Cullen did not mind stripping her in his mind’s eye.

The blurring scenes shifted again.  Evie’s texts pinged on his cellphone.  Her hot coffee from the Blue Nug sat in the cup holder as he went to read her message.   

{Sure.  If you get here in a few minutes, you can catch me taking a shower.  ;)  I did promise no nude pics, but you have that special passcode.  Just wanted to give a heads up.}

Instantly, the message became a reality in the humping man’s brain.  An index finger slowly summoned Cullen from the tossed sex-smelling bed in Hightown.  It was early morning based on the early sunlight streaming that the bedroom window.  The strange woman of his mind stepped into a tight bathroom, her naked form catching Cullen’s attention through a hangover…or was he still drunk?  Like a moth to a candle flame, the templar followed.  He discarded the wrinkled and sweaty top blanket covering his own nudity and followed the bed partner into the bathroom.

The commander’s grip on his penis intensified as his mind and heart shaped Evie’s wet naked form in her loft shower.   Cullen knew she had a grabbable ass and a set of perky breasts that he knew would fill his palms just right.  Her auburn waves pulled downward as the water sprayed down her back and slickened her curvy hips that told Cullen where to look and what to touch.

Now, Evie stood in front of him in his own shower.  She felt so real and close.  Her breath tickled his scarred lip.  Her nose briefly brushed his as her hand shifted the cold water to hot.  His hand—no, Evie’s hand—directed his body via few tugs on his penis.  Her legs spilt as far as the shower stall allowed.  Automatically, Cullen’s hand touched her bent knee, using the hot water as a lubricant as it crawled up her thigh to her lower hip.  With a thumb press, he directed her leg on his own hip.  Her ankle tightened around his knee and thigh as she shoved him close to her leaning position against the shower wall.  She pumped him twice, directing his purple head along her lower lips.  She always loves to tease him, driving Cullen that much over the primal edge to ravage her.  An all too familiar moan rolled through both himself and this goddess positioning his member to her entry.

With her bent knee, Evie jerked the man into her.  Cullen’s mind thundered back to that warm and tight cunt he felt before just a month before.  The hot water poured over him, cleaning the sweat and salt from the hot Kirkwall days and nights fucking and sucking this mysterious woman who has allowed him again and again inside her.  The woman arched her back, allowing Cullen’s available arm to cradle her tightly against the hard flaring muscles repeating shoving his dick in and out of her.  She allowed him to dominate her and forced his penis head against cervix and massaging that inner G-shot.  Cullen knew reached his goal each time the inner walls clenched his penis like a vise.

Again, the mysterious woman shifted to Evie again.  Her pink plump lips sucked Cullen’s scarred lips, her tongue dancing inside his mouth.  He swallowed each of her moans and sighs…  Her dull fingernails reached beyond his behind to his tightening balls at the base of his shaft.  Cullen was not expecting this stimulus, his hip jerking so hard Evie hollered in mirth.  Her walls milked him as her orgasms rolled down her spine and into her groins and thighs.  She gripped his abdomen with each pulse.

This woman was so beautiful.  Her tan skin flushed and her muscles flexed with ecstasy.  Her hips rolled and met Cullen’s pumps.  Evie’s grip on his balls tightened just right.

Cullen followed his partner into euphoria.  That pulsing purple ache that woke him now released into Evie.  He wanted to fill his seed in her.  A majestic roar thundered from Cullen’s lips before his scarred lip suckled his partner’s presented nipple.  Again, Evie climaxed with the sensation, extending her orgasm further.  Her walls clasped him, milking his seed deep inside her and extended his own orgasm.  Oh Maker, it was the greatest feeling in the world.

Dizzy amber eyes slowly opened as his fall began.  His muscles were burning.  His legs felt like jello.  His hand slipped from his softening member and into the cold water stream.  So much cum dripped from his palm and fingers.  Even as he softened, more semen drizzled from his purple head.  Cullen took a step back, his head smacking the back shower wall.  His breath panted into the air as a thundering headache broke through his relaxed soul.  Maker, fuck this headache.  Leave him.

Achy, ashamed, but completely satisfied as he can be without fucking Evie Tesni Trevelyan into his mattress.  Or his shower.  Or anywhere for that matter.

Those amber eyes flicked to the dirty tattered dress he dropped rushing into the shower.  Evie’s dress haunted him like the images of that whore from his imagination.  Evie was the woman he could never have.  Evie’s twirling and jumping in that dress mixed with that mysterious woman’s moans and bites on his neck and shoulder in the shower.

For all these images, Cullen felt the loneliest he ever been.  Yet, this episode of lust and relief taught him something:  Evie brought out the most ravenous lust he ever felt. Since he saw her wear that dress in her music video, he thought of nothing else but to press her against a wall, tear off her underwear and plunge his penis inside her soft inviting walls.  He used his past flings for reference in this particular masturbation, but Cullen knew she would never compare.  That dancer will be all the women he ever had combined and then some.  If that mystery woman’s cunt felt perfect to him whenever that happened in his lost memories, she will never compare what Evie Tesni Trevelyan likely felt.

He wanted her.

He can’t.

His hand will only be his lonely companion tonight.