Reverse-Cowgirl Diplomacy

Much like the snow-covered mountain, the reception they received upon arriving at the village of Haven was frosty. Taken aback by the distinct lack of welcome, Elissa led her party outside of town into the thick, pine-filled mountain forest. Which was where everyone apparently decided to go mad.

She stared at Sten as the other members of their party warily watched them face off. "You're welcome to try," she sneered at him with a confidence she did not feel and heard Alistair groan in dismay. This was insane. Sten had not just challenged her to a fight for control of the party and she had not just accepted.

It was a sentiment Alistair appeared to agree with. "This is crazy. Sten, you can't seriously intend to fight her. She's--"

"One word about how I can't fight because I'm pregnant and you'll be next on my list," Elissa snapped, whirling on him. "I'm not going to tolerate insubordination from the Qunari, and I'm certainly not going to tolerate it from you."

"You're half his size and you're not our best fighter," Alistair snapped back, and Elissa blinked in surprise at his tone and her own reaction to it. This was not the time to be aroused by Alistair's sudden and unexpected assertiveness.

"I'm done with questions to my authority," she said flatly. "Get out of my way. Now."

Sten drew his sword and Elissa her daggers, taking care to remain far outside his considerable reach. He would be more prepared for her speed and agility after their encounter in the Fade, but she'd had time to work on some of the techniques she'd learned from Isabela. Perhaps she might manage to surprise him after all. One thing was certain, she needed to take him down quickly; a prolonged struggle could only favor him.

He came at her with a roar and a swing of his sword--the damned thing was practically as long as she was!--and she heard the whistle and felt the rushing wind as she managed to just barely whirl away from a blow that would have cleaved her in two. It gouged a deep furrow in the sod beside her. She used the momentum of the turn with which she had dodged the blow to carry her behind the giant while he pulled at his sword, working to wrest it free of the frozen ground. She dropped low and kicked her leg out with all her force, thrusting her foot into the back of his knee. His leg buckled under him and before he could recover, she brought the hilt of her dagger down upon his head with all her strength.

The blow did not, as she had hoped it would, knock him unconscious. It did, however, daze him enough for her to strike him again. The second blow did the trick, and Sten slumped to the ground.

Her heart thundering in her chest, her hands shaking with adrenaline, she glared up at the rest of the party, particularly at Alistair, who looked as though he'd been struck a blow to the head. "Does anyone else want to challenge my leadership?"

Fortunately, no one seemed inclined to try, and Elissa pushed herself up from the ground. "Leave us," she ordered. "Go pitch camp and get supper started. I'll wait here until the Qunari awakens. We have matters to discuss."

Alistair appeared to be on the verge of arguing--most likely ready to point out that she'd have no assistance if Sten awoke ready for another fight--but then he looked down at the unconscious Qunari and swallowed whatever he'd been about to say. To emphasize her confidence in her safety, she picked up Sten's sword and set it beyond his reach. She met Zevran's knowing eyes with a smile that was far more confident than she felt as they filed out of the clearing to look for a likely campsite.

While they were gone, she rolled the Qunari over with great effort and began to make preparations. It was not a long wait. His low groan sounded more like a rumble coming out of the earth than anything made by a flesh-and-blood being, and his eyes fixed on her.

"You do not fight like a proper warrior," he accused, making no effort to move.

Her fist collided with his jaw. The impact was unarguably more damaging to her hand than to his face, but she managed to turn his head and make him grunt nonetheless.

"Is that proper enough for you?" she taunted, leaning down close to him.

His violet eyes were flared with more than anger as they met hers. "What now?" he growled.

"You think I'm weak because I fight from a distance using my bow or with sneak attacks rather than just hacking mindlessly away at things. You think I'm weak because I think things through, because I take the time to gather my forces rather than simply charging at the archdemon unprepared, because I won't needlessly throw away the lives of my people if I can avoid a fight and settle matters some other way. You think I'm weak because I'm smaller than you. I cautioned you once against making that assumption but apparently you weren't paying attention, or maybe you just believed it didn't count because we were in a dream. So here's where I prove to you that you can't break me."

Without invitation her teeth closed on the tendon of his neck, just as they had in the Fade, but this time there was no hesitation, no unwillingness. His flesh tore and his blood flowed freely before she let go. With his blood staining her mouth, she raised her head and said, "It doesn't matter how big or strong you are; I will take you and walk away smiling. For every hurt you do me, I will do you one better, and when it is over there will be no more question of whether I am strong enough to get the best of you."

She rose up off him and removed her armor; it was far too cold to be fucking outdoors on the ground, much less to do so nude, but she stripped nonetheless, her nipples immediately tightening painfully in the frigid air. When he continued to lay there, unmoving, she glared at him and snapped, "Are you going to strip, or are you willing to concede the point without the demonstration?"

She was being reckless provoking him, and she knew it, but she wasn't about to back down. If she lost control of the party and he led her people headlong to the archdemon without an army at their back, it wouldn't matter how badly he injured her. Unless she convinced him of her strength now, it was over. She was relying on him to flinch first. If he decided to call her bluff, he could rip her limb from limb.

She thought of all she knew of him and wondered if she may have miscalculated. Sten, who regretted killing the farm family that had tried to help him. Sten, with his love for cookies. Sten, whom Leliana teased for being a big softie, catching him out in acts of gentleness. Elissa knew was playing a dangerous and potentially disastrous game by attempting to rouse his temper. All she could do was pray to the Maker that he would back down before he hurt her too badly.

Sten snarled at her and began to strip off his armor and the clothing beneath as she stood there hoping he would interpret her shivers as being a result of the cold rather than fear. And then he was upon her, pinning her to the ground with all his considerable weight. She hooked her legs around him and arched into him as his open mouth landed on the slope of her breast.

"Yes," she grated, bracing herself when she felt his teeth on her skin. To her astonishment, he hesitated. She grabbed him by the plaits of his white hair and pulled his head closer. "Do it!"

His teeth sank into her shoulder, rather than her breast, but still it the pain brought tears rushing to her eyes. Denied the outlet of screaming, lest their companions come running, instead she keened shrilly in her throat, biting her lips as she struggled against the pain. Her fingernails gouged deep into his back and she drummed her heels hard against his back, but she did not plead for mercy.

When he finally pulled away, she bent her head and returned the favor, this time biting deep into his bicep until he gave a pained moan. "Parshaara!" Sten growled and pushed her away.

Elissa licked her bloodstained lips with satisfaction. "Had enough already?" she taunted. "Each bite you take, I will take another in return. I'll only stop once you do."

"I could tear your flesh from your bones if I chose, kabethari," he grumbled.

"Then why aren't you doing so?" Elissa demanded sharply. "If I'm so weak, so very fragile, here on the cold ground beneath you, why do you stop?"

At her words, Sten rolled onto his back, pulling her above him, taking the punishing cold of the frozen ground onto his own flesh instead of hers. "Perhaps I like your flesh where it is," he answered, his hands coming up to cover her breasts.

"Oh, how drolly male of you," she mocked. His hands clamped punishingly on her soft flesh, and she knew she would bear bruises, but still she gritted her teeth and scoffed, "I will not yield!"

"Then you are a fool!" he snapped impatiently, pinching her nipples hard.

"Perhaps," she gasped, whimpering, unable to suppress the sound. When he let go and the pain had passed, he stroked his huge thumbs over her sensitive nipples, drawing from her a whimper of an entirely different sort. "Or perhaps my will is simply stronger than yours. Maybe I can endure what you cannot."

Her own fingertips closed over his hard flat nipples and she began to pinch, harder and harder, until her fingers began to tremble and her muscles cramp, and still she refused to let go. Finally he snarled a curse in his strangely melodic language and forcibly pulled her hands away. She sat up straight, pushing her breasts forth in an offer for him to do his worst, but though he caressed her, he made no effort to inflict further pain.

She slid down his body then and took his cock into her hand. Thank the Maker, his dream had exaggerated, though not by much. His was still by far the largest cock she'd ever seen, large enough to give her pause. Her hand didn't come close to closing all the way around him and she knew that even with preparation, taking him in would be an effort.

But she let none of that knowledge show in her face. Instead, she licked him from base to tip, sliding back the sheath of skin to run her tongue over the sensitive head. She closed her lips over the slit at the end of his cock and sucked away the fluid there as her hand cupped his large, heavy sac. Again she licked, and again, letting her saliva coat him. Sten's massive hands closed around her upper arms and jerked her up his body until she straddled him once more.

"If you pursue this, I will not be merciful with you," he warned as she lifted herself above him.

"Yes, yes," she replied in a bored voice. "Strange you should feel the need to warn me when I never asked."

She reached down to position his cock and, setting her jaw, began to lower herself upon him. Her blazing eyes never left his as she forced herself down, her body yielding and opening inch by intense inch. The oil and stretching with which she had prepared herself while he lay unconscious was working well, but it was still an ordeal, feeling him stretch and fill her until she was certain she would indeed break. As she strove and struggled to take him in, growling and keening with effort, Sten's eyes widened in surprise. Clearly he had not been expecting her to accomplish the task.

"How--"

"Anaan!" She gasped the word she'd heard him use in triumph before when the head of his cock finally butted up against her womb, her body quaking with effort, her thighs aching with the struggle to straddle his enormous body. It hurt to be stretched so completely, to the very edge of her endurance, especially with having given herself so little time to adjust. Still, it was a good hurt, intense rather than injurious. She embraced it, rode it, let the strange alchemy of sex transform it to pleasure. Already she could feel her muscles loosening, her cunt getting wetter to supplement the oil and saliva she'd she used. All it would take was a motion from him, a touch to her clitoris, and she would come.

Making sure his eyes were upon her to see her claim pleasure from the ordeal of taking him within, Elissa slid her hand down over the small, hard bump that now rounded her belly to caress herself. She closed her eyes, yielding to sensation, rippling around him. Her sheath loosened and she sank upon him even farther. Sten groaned beneath her.

"Are you planning to gawk all day until we freeze to death, or do you intend to fuck me?" she asked when her shudders had subsided. She pushed herself up as much as the poor leverage she could gain straddling him would allow for and sank back upon him again and Maker it was good. Good to be filled so thoroughly she wondered that she could stand it at all, so thoroughly that she was kept constantly perched on the knife-edge between pleasure and pain.

Sten's hands closed over her hips and he pushed up into her and she let out a low, groaning cry as she came again. The heat of passion, of effort flared across her skin, warming her, and suddenly the biting cold was an afterthought. Sten's hands began to guide her movements, taking the burden off her thighs, and with the easing of that last bit of tension she loosened still further, until his length was almost completely engulfed by her.

"Maker," she moaned, rising and falling with the help of his hands, closing her eyes and throwing her head back. "Yes. Fuck me."

"I have no wish to injure you," Sten rumbled, and she could feel the shaking in his hands that spoke of the effort to restrain himself. He thrust up harder, pulled her down more forcefully, and she cried out in mingled pain and pleasure.

"Then yield," she panted. "For I will not."

"Parshaara!!" he shouted in frustration, pushing her off him abruptly. He rose to tower above her, huge and magnificent in his nudity.

Elissa stood, quaking with cold at the lack of his warmth as arousal fled, and watched warily as he dug through the packs he'd set upon the ground when he had challenged her. He spread out his bedroll at her feet with an impatient flap, then took up his own long cloak and draped it around her shivering shoulders, fastening it beneath her chin.

"It is too cold in this barbaric country," he complained. "There is no pleasure to be found in freezing to death."

His cloak was blessedly warm, trailing on the ground at her feet. Sten knelt upon the bedroll before her and she looked down at him cautiously. "Just what am I to infer from this sudden concern for my comfort?"

"That I yield," he said, surprisingly calmly. "If we are to have pleasure with one another, let us do so in a civilized manner."

He reached for her then, and Elissa went willingly, gratefully as he pulled her down to straddle his thighs. His giant hands cupped her backside and held her up as her legs encircled his waist. Her hand reached between their bodies to grasp his cock and she tilted her hips, angling to align her entrance with his shaft. He eased her down, and they both groaned as the head of his cock began to push into her.

Taking him in was easier this time, but this time she let herself slow down and enjoy it, enjoy the stretching and the exquisite tension as he filled her. When he flexed his thighs and nudged more deeply into her channel, she gave a soft whimper of pleasure, pulling the sides of his cloak around his shoulders so that they were both covered by it. Between his body and the cloak, she soon felt gloriously warm and relaxed, moving fluidly up and down upon him, angling her hips to restrict the depth of his strokes when it threatened to become too much for her to bear.

She leaned back, letting his arms bear her weight, letting herself flow with the rolling surges of his hips. He took her weight upon on his arm, his hand spread over the base of her spine where her back flared out and melded with the swell of her ass. His mouth came down upon her shoulder, but he nibbled rather than bit, using just enough pressure to make her body tense deliciously around his cock as she whimpered her approval.

His other hand found her breast, lifting and stroking. His fingertips were firm but not punishing when they closed over her nipple and squeezed until she moaned.

"More," she panted, placing her hand over his. "Harder."

He obeyed, pinching down until she cried out and began to writhe, and he thrust harder in response, driving into her. She felt her orgasm building, felt it curling her toes, tightening in her belly, and she wanted, needed, craved more to shove her over that blindingly bright edge.

"Hurt me," she gasped, arching over his arm, pushing against him with her hips to drive him in deeper. "Now. Please!"

His hand clenched on her breast, his fingertips clamping painfully on her nipple, and Elissa cried out as her body seized, pulsing around his cock with wave after wave of pleasure.

It was as though a dam burst and restraint was swept away, Sten losing his caution and reserve as he pulled her roughly up and down on his cock, thrusting much harder than he had dared before. Elissa rode him, rode the crashing, thundering crest of ecstasy as one climax blended into another and another. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her mouth locked on his neck, sucking and biting until he protested. Her cries grew louder as she forgot to worry about alarming their companions.

When it became too much, she drew close to his body, limiting the depth and angle of penetration until she could recover. When it wasn't enough, she leaned away from him and let him drive up into her, let him jerk her down with bruising force. She began to beg, begged him for more, begged him to fuck her, to hurt her, begged him for the Maker's sake to never stop.

She was drenched in sweat and gasping for breath between sobbing screams of passion when he spilled her on her back, but her thighs embraced his hips as he hammered into her, his own control dangerously thin. It was too much, too good, so intense that she began to fear she'd lose sight of the line between pleasure and injury. She thought of her babe and feared she may have gone too far.

But she could not beg for mercy or for him to cease, even now. The point she intended to prove still remained. She had set this in motion and she would see it through, would make sure he would never mistake her for being weak again. She could never rely on besting him in a fight; this was the only way.

She shuddered helplessly as another orgasm ripped through her with almost agonizing force, and tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and yet she would not stop. Instead, she rode it, let it carry her to that place where she was floating, apart from her body. She drifted as sensation overwhelmed her body, again and again, until Sten roared above her, pumping into her with short, jerky, uncontrolled thrusts of his hips. His hot seed filled her, and she knew when he withdrew there would be so much of it that it would gush out of her.

She moaned at the loss when he pulled out of her, felt the steady stream of his discharge as it flowed from her cunt. She lay there shivering, panting, and for a moment she wasn't sure she could move. Perhaps he had broken her after all. But his strange, violet eyes were intent upon her, and by sheer force of will she pushed herself up, made herself rise despite the aches and bruises and the sheer weakness of shock at her ordeal.

She drew her shoulders up and back, standing straight and erect even when her knees threatened to buckle. She would not yield, would not let him see her appear weak. Not until she heard what she needed to hear.

"I was wrong, kadan," he said at last, sitting on his haunches, nude in the cold, sweating and panting. "You are strong enough."

She nodded in acknowledgment of his admission and, when she was sure her legs would support her, began to seek out her clothing. She dressed beneath the warm folds of his cloak and once she was in her tunic and breeches, gave the garment to him. Her smallclothes and breeches grew uncomfortably damp and cold as his seed continued to seep out of her, but there was little she could do about that now. Instead, she ignored the discomfort and began to fasten her armor around her, grimacing at how tightly her cuirass now fit. She would need to loosen the buckles very soon, and by spring it would no longer fit at all.

Once dressed, she looked at Sten again, forcing herself to project an attitude of calm control. Finally he asked, as he had when they began, "What now?"

"Just get back in line, Sten," she said cooly, unable to suppress the weariness in her voice, and turned from him, fighting the urge to limp as she walked back the way their companions had gone to make camp.

Alistair was the first to greet her as she came over the crest of a small, rocky rise to the flat valley very they had pitched their tents. A campfire was blazing and a fragrant stew was simmering, but all she wanted was the quiet of her tent.

"Are you all right?" Alistair asked her, frowning with concern.

"I'm fine, of course," she said, forcing a small smile. "We won't be having any more trouble with Sten."

Alistair looked over her head and she turned to see Sten approaching the campsite, bearing his packs and bedroll and sword. He gave her a grave nod and moved to the far edge of camp to begin setting up his own tent.

She made her way to her tent and ducked inside, finally giving voice to the aching moan she'd been suppressing. Zevran soon appeared with a bucket of warm water and helped her remove her armor, giving an appreciative smile at her collection of blossoming bruises and abrasions. Her hand caressed his hair as he knelt and stroked between her thighs, tasting her, sampling the copious fluids Sten had left behind as she'd promised him he could. But even as he brought her soft, rippling pleasure, her mind was far away.

She lay down then, and let him bathe and massage her, let him dab healing potion over the angry bite wound on her shoulder, but she felt detached from his ministrations, concerned with the slight cramping in her womb. It may have simply been the discomfort of an excess of pleasure, but it frightened her, for she knew she had endangered her babe.

Her babe.

As the weeks passed, the concept of the child within her womb had begun to take form as something real and tangible, rather than the abstraction it had been when she first discovered her pregnancy. She had been thinking of it solely in terms of the things it represented; the possible fulfillment of her aspiration for the throne, the last of the Theirin dynasty—aside from Alistair, naturally—or even an impediment to her ability to fight the Blight.

Now, it was becoming something more, a person, a child she would love and nurture and raise to adulthood. And she had just risked the life of that child.

"I should never have accepted your dare," she said, her arms beneath her chin as he massaged her back. "It was a foolish, reckless thing to do and I knew it. Perhaps I could have found another way to settle this problem with Sten if I'd thought hard enough about it, but instead I let myself be goaded into fucking him even knowing it was dangerous."

"I am sorry," he answered softly. "You are right, of course. I should never have issued the dare in the first place, yes?"

She rolled up onto her side, facing him. To her dismay, tears stung her eyes. "When I first met you, Zevran, I was thrilled to find another person so like me, someone who understood simple, straightforward pleasure, someone who would make no demands. But now I see there is a danger to that as well. Either to find new heights of pleasure to explore with you, or perhaps simply because I want to to prove to you that I am as unreserved as you are, I push myself beyond what is wise or safe. But I am not like you, Zevran. The only thing binding you is the oath you gave me. But I have responsibilities. To the Grey Wardens, to Ferelden, to my babe...."

She looked away then, lying down once more with her head buried in her arms. He resumed his massage, but there was something cautious and questioning in his touch. He was no longer taking for granted his access to her. And it hurt, for him to be that careful, to lose that freedom to touch and be touched without concern.

And yet, undoubtedly it was also for the best.

"It's not really fair," she said, her voice choked with tears. "I never had my chance to be a young woman, reveling in my newfound sexual freedom without a care. My virginity was carefully hoarded for a precise purpose, and no sooner was that end met than I was pregnant and alone, mired in politics and war. But fair or not, I can no longer pretend to be a carefree girl coming into her womanhood. I am a Grey Warden, and as unlikely as it may be, I am a war leader, and soon I will be a mother. I need to begin to act like it and stop taking foolish chances."

"Would you like me to go?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," she said with a sob. "Perhaps not for good. I still need you; you help make the burden easier to bear. But for tonight... yes."

Alone, she dressed and curled into a ball on her bedroll. She tenderly held the small swell of her belly and wept until at last she fell asleep.