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Cassandra practically shoved Cullen into the small brick infirmary. He’d come to ask her - again - to name a replacement for him, and she informed him that she wouldn’t even consider it until he saw a healer. It was obvious to everyone how tightly wound he was of late, and Cassandra had the distinct impression it was standard stress that he tried to play off as lyrium withdrawal to give him an excuse. It was early enough that no one else should be in the infirmary, which Cassandra knew would make it less likely for Cullen to say no. Not that she’d given him the option. She considered bracing the door shut, but she heard Cullen’s armor creak as he sat down inside. If he’s resigned himself enough to sit down, Cassandra felt she could leave him.
“Ah, Commander Cullen. Wondered when I’d be seeing you here. You’ve looked knotted up for weeks,” the healer said. It sounded like a grumble, but the man had a rather grumbly voice in the first place. “I’ll be with you in a moment. I just got here, so I need to get everything set up for the day. Want to tell me what exactly brings you here?” Cullen was frowning, half from not wanting to be there, and half from concentration. He knew he’d been told the healer’s name before, but he couldn’t remember it, and felt bad about it. He also didn’t want to be there, but knew Cassandra would only become more insufferable if he left.
“Well, serah, I’m not sure how much you know about my… personal history. Everyone knows I used to be a templar, but unlike the former templar recruits, I have not taken Lyrium since I joined. I’ve had Seeker Cassandra keeping an eye on me, but she refuses to name a replacement until I’ve been seen to by a healer. She thinks I am only under stress, that this has nothing to do with the Lyrium,” Cullen said. No point lying to a healer about it, and he was used to expecting their confidence. The man finished up whatever he was working on, then came over to sit on the stool beside the cot Cullen was using.
“She’s a smart woman, then. Take off your armor, please. You can put it on the other cot. As long as no one gets seriously injured in practice, none of the away teams are due back today, so I shouldn’t have a lot of patients this early,” the healer instructed. He looked to be in his early fifties, his salt and pepper hair long and tied in a loose ponytail. His accent was very faintly Orlesian, like he’d grown up there but moved to the Marches or Ferelden as a young man. He had a few days worth of dark stubble, and his eyes were very dark green under eyebrows that had managed to resist greying just yet. Cullen took this in as he stripped off his armor, gingerly laying it out on the cot beside him, folding the leather and cloth bits as her went, which got a smile of appreciation from the healer.
“I’m terribly sorry serah, but I don’t recall your name. I know we were introduced when you came to Skyhold, but that was months ago,” Cullen said sheepishly once he was down to his pants and loose cotton undershirt. The healer cracked a grin, which made his face seem a good five years younger, and idly made Cullen think that the man was probably popular with women when he wanted to be. He had a smarmy, roguish sort of charm to him.
“Name’s Guillaume, but everyone not Orlesian just calls me Gill, or doctor. You’re welcome to either,” Gill said. “As for you, I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve a policy of addressing my patients by name only. No titles. I consider all my patients to be stripped of such things when they walk in. They become people with hurts and needs, without the weight of the outside world on them. Should I call you Cullen, then?” Cullen nodded.
“Yes, Cullen. I’ve no nicknames save what Varric calls me, and I’d prefer to not be known by everyone as ‘Curly’,” Cullen sighed, running a hand through his hair, which was already sweaty. Gil reached out to feel Cullen’s forehead for temperature, then the lymph nodes at his neck.
“Well then, Cullen, care to tell me about your symptoms?” Gill asked, moving his hands over Cullen’s shoulders, taking inventory of pressure points and knots in his muscles.
“Migraines, for one. They’re the most persistent. Sometimes hallucinations, but generally only at night. Muscle weakness, cramps. Cold sweats if I spend too much time doing less intellectually demanding work,” he said. “I also find my patience wearing thin faster than it should. Anger, sadness, despair. Sometimes I feel utterly despondent. We fight a hard battle, but I find myself randomly sinking into feeling as though it is all for naught. The Inquisition cannot have a Commander who feels such things.” Gill ran his hands through Cullen’s hair, checking him for any bumps on his head and the back of his neck.
“And what have you been doing to treat these symptoms? If you’ve been off Lyrium for months, surely you’ve been doing something to cope,” Gill inquired, leaning in to listen to Cullen’s chest, two fingers at his neck to monitor his pulse.
“I drink a lot of water. I keep a training dummy in my office if I need something to hit or stick knives into. I take brisk walks on the battlements, or find someone to play chess with when I need something thought-provoking to focus on,” Cullen said. Gill leaned back to grab a small hammer and began rolling up one of Cullen’s pant legs to test his reflexes. He wasn’t meeting Cullen’s eyes when he asked his next question, though it didn’t seem a deliberate choice on his part.
“And are you sleeping with anyone? Or at least masturbating regularly? Orgasms can help a great deal with migraines and muscles cramps,” Gill continues, tapping Cullen’s knee with the hammer, nodding with satisfaction when the leg bounces accordingly. Cullen’s entire face went rather violently pink at the questions.
“Um. I’m. Not seeing anyone, no. And while I certainly, ah, see to myself from time to time, I’m generally too busy to steal away to my office during the day, and by the evenings I’m usually exhausted. If it takes more than a few minutes, I usually just give up and go to sleep,” Cullen stammered, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. Gill scooted his stool over to press along Cullen’s spine, checking for any irregularities.
“Well. It sounds to me like the Seeker was correct. If the Lyrium withdrawal was the root cause of all your symptoms, your temperature would be either too hot or too cold. I’m certain it exacerbates things, but we can alleviate a lot of your excess tension, and the withdrawals should be easier as well. You’ll need to continue with what you’re already doing, and I’ll give you another treatment method to try as well. You’ll likely find yourself less exhausted after a session here and now,” Gill explained, offering Cullen a glass of water. Cullen took it and gratefully swallowed a big gulp.
“So is anything in particular wrong with me then?” Cullen ask. Gill sighed, as though he were already expecting protest.
“You seem to have a pretty standard case of hysteria,” Gill said. He opened his mouth to continue, but as predicted, Cullen rushed to cut him off.
“Hysteria? Isn’t that a woman’s illness? A lonely housewife’s ailment?” Cullen asked, incredulous. Gill sighed heavily.
“It is most common in women, as they are generally less sexually satisfied. They’ve inattentive husbands, or no husband, and it would be improper for them to seek a partner to relieve them. Men don’t tend to get it because we’ve generally an easier time of seeing to ourselves or finding someone to dally with. Especially given that you say it’s not uncommon for you to start masturbating, but stop when you get tired, you’ve likely got a build up of seed in your system,” Gill said. He let Cullen have a few more gulps of water to cover his embarrassment, before continuing, “The best treatment at this point would be a prostate massage. I’ll do it for you this time to show you how, then give you a tool to do it yourself after.” Cullen blushed dark enough that Gill wondered if his toes had a drop of blood in them.
“You’re going to… here? Personally?” Cullen asked. Gill nodded, patting Cullen’s knee.
“Don’t be so flustered, Cullen. I’m a professional, and I’ve done this plenty of times before. If it comforts you any, I’m not attracted to men at all. Also, this room is magically soundproofed, so no one else will know of your treatment. After I’ve done it once, you should be able to replicate the experience on your own whenever you need it, and you should have more energy to see to yourself as well,” Gill explained. Cullen finished off the water, but seemed to be taking the healer’s words in stride. He slowly went less red in the face, and nodded ever so slightly.
“Alright, doctor. I will... defer to your recommendation,” Cullen said, surprising himself with the confidence he managed to muster in his voice. “Should I disrobe now?” Gill nodded, standing up and turning his back to the Commander. He locked the door to the infirmary and went to the chest of drawers on the far wall, busying himself with gathering supplies as Cullen undressed. Cullen’s undershirt stuck to him with sweat so he had to peel it off. His shoes hit the floor with a thud, followed quietly by his socks. He unlaced his breeches and pushed down his small clothes with them, folding both and putting them on the bed with his armor. He sat on the edge of the cot again and cleared his throat to alert the healer. Gill turned back around and came back to the cot, setting a bottle of oil and a long, slender glass rod with a crooked bulb at the end. Cullen gulped audibly, forcing a small laugh from Gill.
“Lie down, Cullen. Knees bent, feet flat on the bed, shoulder-width apart. I promise this will only be uncomfortable for a moment. Once the work begins, I’ve never had a patient remain capable of self-consciousness,” he said, waiting for Cullen to get into position before moving to sit at the foot of the bed, dragging the stool beside the bed to act as a table. Once Cullen did as asked, he looked at the door, avoiding all eye contact with the healer. His cock was completely flaccid, and Cullen wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
“A few more things to hopefully ease your mind. Again, I’m a professional, I’ve done this before, and I’m not attracted to men. Plenty of important, powerful men find themselves with this problem. My treatments are completely confidential. Even your spymaster had agreed to never pry into my records. Please feel free to make as much noise as you want. While this isn’t a sexual encounter, by most definitions, you are going to be sexually stimulated. You won’t make me uncomfortable in the least if you feel the need to vocalize anything. Holding back would be rather antithetical to this treatment,” Gill said. “Furthermore, it is very important that you achieve release. Some men can orgasm solely from prostate stimulation, but not all. Should you find yourself close but unable to finish, let me know and I will be more than happy to provide some manual stimulation, or you could do it yourself. Just do not take yourself in hand until you are truly desperate, lest this treatment’s efficacy be diminished.” Cullen was blushing again, but his cock was beginning to rouse. He realized after silence filled the room that the healer was waiting for his consent.
“Um, yes. I agree to your… suggestions. Be v-vocal as I feel the need to, let you know if I can’t… finish,” he repeated.
“Good lad. I’m going to touch you now. Try to relax. Take deep breaths. I’m going to use a finger first, then the instrument. It isn’t particularly thick, so it should not be difficult to accomodate,” Gill said, with a finality implying he wouldn’t be saying much more. Cullen’s knees shook slightly, and he inhaled sharply at the first touch of a thick, callused finger at his puckered entrance. Gill spread the oil around the area first, liberally coating the pink hole. He slicked his finger thoroughly as well, then pressed against Cullen’s ass. The Commander took a deep breath and forced himself to relax, allowing the finger to slip in relatively easily to the first knuckle. Another drizzle of oil and the knuckle was inside, too. Cullen felt his breath catch in his throat as the digit soldiered on, the second knuckle sliding in as well.
“Keep breathing,” the gruff yet friendly voice of the doctor urged. Cullen breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, only tensing slightly when he felt the man’s bent fingers against his balls, indicating his finger was fully inside him. Cullen felt the finger twist, then brush against something that made his knees rumble and his lips part.
“Oh!” he exclaimed softly in surprised pleasure. Gill pressed against the spot again, then pulled his finger out to the tip before pushing in again, making sure to brush that sweet spot inside his patient. Cullen groaned and canted his hips up a bit, worsening his posture but making the doctor’s angle a bit easier on them both. Gill added a few drops of oil each time, pumping his finger in slowly and deliberately each time. Cullen was panting softly, one of his knees dipping off to the side, when Gill removed his finger entirely. He wiped himself off, then picked up the glass phallus from his stool, generously coating it with oil as well.
“This will be a bit cool at first, but it will warm up with use. Take a deep breath for me again. It’s not much bigger than my finger, but I don’t want you tensing up,” Gill said. Cullen breathed in loudly, his chest puffing up, and as he exhaled, he felt the touch of slippery glass, then pressure, and then it slipped inside him. It wasn’t cold, just cooler than his body, and it felt rather nice for the difference. It slid into him inch by inch until he felt the flared base resting against him. Gill paused, then twisted it to get the bulb in the right spot, turning it slowly until Cullen gasped and his cock twitched, almost fully hard now.
“That’s the spot, then. We’re about to get started in earnest now. Don’t hold back Cullen, alright? Make as much noise as comes natural to you. Say whatever you’d like. Should you say someone’s name, I won’t comment or share the information with anyone,” Gill said.
“Yes. Alright. I’m ready, doctor,” Cullen said, closing his eyes and turning his head. Gill pulled the dildo back until the bulb as all left inside Cullen, then pushed it forward, slowly but firmly. Cullen groaned, his hands grabbing handfuls of bedsheet to either side of his legs. His cock jerked, fully hard now, a thick bead of precum growing at the slit. Again the glass cock slid out, then pressed forward. Cullen saw stars under his eyelids and let a moan escape from his parted lips.
“Maker’s breath…” he whispered, choking a bit at the next thrust. The pace sped up very slightly, the thrusting more of a constant now, in and out, sliding hard against his prostate with every movement.
“Ahh… yes… please…” Cullen groaned, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth unable to close from the panting, moaning, and whining. He’d never been touched like this before, and found himself wishing that he’d had the kinds of friends growing up who might have told him about such things. His cock was the hardest he could remember it being, but he had no desire to touch it yet, knowing it wouldn’t feel like what he wanted.
“Please, more. Faster,” Cullen begged, and Gill complied, pumping the dildo faster now. Cullen bucked his hips gently in time with the thrusts, giving his prostate an extra bump every time it pressed into him. His hands left the sheets to grab his ass, one cheek in each hand, spreading himself wider to let the dildo fuck him deeper. Gill shifted his arm a bit, but quickly adjusted to Cullen’s position. Sweat beaded on his forehead in concentration, and he kept his attention on Cullen’s cock, watching it turn darker and swell more with each thrust. He’d done this enough to know when a man needed a hand based on the color his dick got to, but Cullen was one of the worst cases he’d ever had. Plus, the man seemed to have little trouble vocalizing now, so Gill figured Cullen would tell him if he needed more.
“Oh, fuck… Andraste’s ass… yes…” Cullen moaned, squeezing the cock with his ass and rocking his weight back and forth to fuck himself on the dildo. He didn’t have much leverage, but Gill said nothing and just adjusted as needed to keep thrusting in at the right angle.
“Oh, Maker. More, more, please. Harder. I need it harder,” Cullen cried, eyes still closed, speaking as though he really were entreating the Maker, as though he were alone and at the mercy of the inanimate object inside him. Gill nodded at the common reaction, glad to see that Cullen was taking well to the treatment. He had feared the man would be unable to relax enough to comply, and damned if he was going to let a good man lose his job over an easily treatable condition. He followed Cullen’s instruction, outright ramming the dildo into the Commander, eliciting a grunt followed by a moan, then a whimper as it retreated hastily before plunging in again. Cullen’s cock was weeping, the precum sliding down his engorged shaft.
“Yes, yes, fucking hell…” Cullen swore. He wanted to moan a name, but he couldn’t think of one. There were plenty of attractive women in the Inquisition, but it seemed odd to call a woman’s name while he was being fucked in such a fashion. He found even fewer men attractive, and most of them worked for him, making them off-limits to him even in fantasy. He thought about how clinical and professional Gill was being with him, and how that distance was rather arousing. His brain filled in the rest for him, and he could suddenly picture Cassandra doing this for him, sitting on his bed, her forehead wrinkled in focus, her mouth turned downwards in concentration.
“Cassandra,” Cullen moaned, and the moment the name left his mouth, his cock twitched mightily and he felt the urge to keep saying it. “Fuck, yes, Cassandra, fuck me, please. Oh, Seeker, yes, just like that!” He sat up a bit, propping himself up on an elbow to get more leverage to push himself down onto the dildo, bucking his hips and half-riding the glass rod in the healer’s hand. Gill was honestly surprised that Cullen hadn’t touched himself yet, or asked to be touched. His cock was nearly purple and his ass was completely relaxed around the instrument now. He seemed to be coming quite undone, yet he thrusted onto the dildo as though he were still miles away from cumming.
“Cassandra, yes, fuck my ass, right there. Oh, Maker, your cock feels so good,” he cried. When he would think back on this, he’d be retroactively embarrassed at saying such a thing, at begging a dear friend to fuck him with an appendage she didn’t even have. But at that moment, hearing himself say the words just turned him on further, his cock leaking a steady stream of precum now.
“Please… oh, Maker, please… make me cum, please make me cum on your cock. Cassandra, you feel so… uhn… fuck,” Cullen begged, loudly. Gill watch Cullen’s balls tighten and he picked up the pace yet again for the final stretch, his brows furrowed in concentration, goal in sight. He pistoned the dildo savagely into Cullen, making the man’s back arch up sharply. Gill’s hand followed, unrelentingly assailing his patient’s prostate even as he squirmed to get away from it, to delay what he desperately needed.
“I’m going to… I’m going to cum… fuck, please, please make me cum. I’m so c-close,” Cullen nearly screamed, writhing and bouncing on the dildo as though his entire world had narrowed to the warm hardness inside him, wringing him out, dragging him through unprecedented pleasure. Gill was seconds away from taking mercy on the Commander and jerking him off when Cullen damn near howled, swearing profusely as he rocked himself down one last time, stars exploding behind his eyes before his brain went numb, his cock twitching several times as it shot several ropes of thick cum on his stomach. Gill continued pumping the instrument into Cullen as he came, not stopping until the last shot of seed sputtered from the man. Cullen collapsed onto the cot, his skin glistening with sweat. The dildo slid back out of him easily, and Gill climbed off the bed to wash his hands, then return with a warm, damp towel.
“Would you like me to clean you off, or do you want to do it yourself in a moment?” he asked. Cullen looked far too exhausted and sated to feel any shred of embarrassment anymore. He shook his head clumsily.
“I’ll do it myself. After I catch my breath,” he said breathlessly. Gill nodded and placed the cloth on the table within reach of Cullen. The healer turned away again, pouring a thin liquid with a harsh chemical smell over the dildo, then thoroughly rubbing it down. He fetched a yard of oilcloth from storage and wrapped up the dildo with a small bottle of the cleaning solution and a slightly larger bottle of oil. He tied off the parcel, then waited for the Commander to request his attention.
While the healer prepared his package, Cullen let his legs slump to the floor. He felt lighter than he had in weeks. He thought of their upcoming battles and immediately got several new ideas about the best choke points to use, given what he knew about the field. He felt confident, like the Inquisition’s success was nearly a guarantee. He was tired, but he wanted to take a run around the ramparts. He wanted to spar with someone. He thought of who would be available to spar with him once he was dressed, but his first thought made him blush, unsure if he’d be looking her in the eyes for a few days. His muscles groaned in protest. but he could tell the healer was waiting on him now, so he grabbed the washcloth and cleaned himself up, wiping the spend from his stomach and chest, then wiping the lubricant from his ass. He sat up and grabbed his small clothes and pants, pulling them on before clearing his throat again.
“How are you feeling, Commander? You did a very good job following instructions. Less secure men have blustered on for nearly half an hour sometimes,” Gill said. Cullen continued to dress, getting back into his full armor.
“I feel much improved, Serah Gill. Haven’t felt this much energy in weeks,” he said, stretching once he donned his heavy plated armor, making all the leather straps shift to more comfortable spots. “Honestly, I feel five years younger. Stronger. My armor feels lighter.” Gill smiled, a genuine look of pride that warmed his entire face. Cullen recognized it. It was look he had immediately after the end of a battle, when the dust cleared and his men were the ones still standing. He supposed it was little different, really. Gill was a man who took pride in his job, and Cullen could attest to the man’s skill at his work.
“I’m glad to hear it, Commander Cullen,” he said, handing the wrapped parcel to him. “This has everything you’ll need to take care of this yourself in the future. Traditional masturbation works as well, but I’d recommend prostate stimulation at least once a week if you can. When you run out of oil or cleaner, let me know and I will happily send you more. Both have plenty of other uses, so no one will be any the wiser about your particular need of them.” Cullen took the parcel gratefully, then awkwardly held out his hand. Gill chuckled before gripping it tightly and shaking.
“I am truly in your debt. The whole Inquisition is. If there’s ever anything you need made a priority, I’d be happy to assist with getting it for you,” Cullen said. Gill unlocked the door when Cullen had his fur cloak back around his shoulders, then opened it for him.
“I will keep that in mind, but I’m honestly just doing my job here, just like you and everyone else in Skyhold. Andraste watch over you, Commander,” Gill said as Cullen strode out of the infirmary.
“And you as well, serah,” Cullen answered before marching back to his office, shoulders squared and chin up.