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The loud clatter as his clipboard hits the floor jolts Cullen into the sudden, heart-pounding sort of wakefulness that only comes from a bad startle, though the weight on his chest keeps him prone rather than bolt upright. He takes a deep breath and looks around as his pulse slows. Llewelyn's hair brushes along Cullen's chin, her head rising as he breathes, but she does not stir beyond a soft murmur and slight curl of the hands that rest just below his collar bones.
The single candle at his bedside sits cold, long since sputtered out. The last warm fingers of sunset he recalls have been replaced by pale moonlight that illuminates his quarters through the large hole in the ceiling - 'perhaps I ought to fix that,' he muses, not for the first time - and gleams reflected from their armor, piled in the corner with less care than usual. Hastily removed, he recalls - Llewelyn arrived back at Skyhold with tension clear in the line of her shoulders, the set of her jaw, none of it abated by the time she made her way to his office. No words passed between them as he rose and crossed to kiss her forehead gently, then her nose, then her lips, which finally curved in the suggestion of a smile. She vanished up the ladder as he gathered the last of the day's reports for review and followed.
She worked the buckles on her breastplate somewhat fruitlessly with sharp movements, gauntlets already discarded and boots partially kicked off - they had become caught on the greaves she neglected to remove. Cullen stilled her movement and took both small hands in his own, setting them aside and making quick work of all remaining straps. His armor soon joined hers on the floor, the fur lined coat draped over the trunk at the foot of the bed.
His elf still rests in the exact place she took up some hours earlier, legs tangled up with his own, stretched atop his torso like a living blanket. Soft, regular puffs of warm breath ghost over his bare chest, and he feels rather than hears the steady thrum of her heart. 'Well, I finished most of those reports,' he decides, as though moving was ever really an option, arms wrapping firm and safe around Llewelyn's shoulders and the small of her back. A dip of his chin, a kiss dropped on the crown of her head, a few sleepily mumbled Elven words, and Cullen breathes slowly out, allowing his eyes to slip shut again.