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"Oh, sweet Mythal," Cullen heard Arian nearly moan from where she sat near the hearth in her quarters, a steaming mug settled comfortably between her hands.
The Commander looked up from the paperwork he had sprawled on her desk, raising a curious brow.
"Everything alright over there?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.
Arian nodded once, eyes closing in bliss. "I don't think I've ever had anything so... heavenly," she breathed in reverence, and Cullen quietly chuckled at the reaction.
"It's just hot chocolate, Arian," he attempted to reason, "You're saying you hadn't had it before this point?"
Josephine had recently insisted the cooks at Skyhold start serving a hot beverage at meal time in preparation of the incoming winter, and tonight's just so happened to be the creamy, brown liquid.
Apparently she hadn't considered the fact that the hold's own Inquisitor wouldn't be prepared for such a feat.
"No," Arian answered after taking another lingering sip. "We had this frothy halla milk kind of thing we'd make when it'd get chilly, but it wasn't smooth or tasty. In fact, half the time it just left the camp gassy. I hated piling into an aravel with everyone on those nights," she admitted, casting a horrified glance off to the side.
Cullen snorted outright, standing from the desk to move over to where his lover was sitting on the floor. The woman looked up at him as he approached, and his heart flipped at the sight of her soft, heat-reddened cheeks, followed by the small mustache of chocolate just above her lip - only emphasized by the beautiful smile she offered him.
Truly, she could be covered in dirt and entrails and still take his breath away, he concluded in that moment.
"You missed your mouth," he told her with a smirk, but before Arian could move to wipe at her face, he said, "I'll get it."
Feeling ceremoniously bold, Cullen made himself a spot at her side then leaned over, raising his hand though he were going to remove the remnants of the drink from her skin. Instead, said hand slid into the hair at the base of the elf's skull, and Cullen bent his head, gingerly brushing his lips along Arian's. He sighed as his tongue carefully darted out between his lips, running over the offending spot above hers and removing it.
Then he pulled away, expression as smug as a person who'd just won the lottery. Arian, meanwhile, had nearly dropped the mug still in her hands - obviously stunned by his rare forwardness.
"Well, I must say," Cullen conceded, lips raising into a coy smile. "It's just as amazing as you made it out to be."