Reverse-Cowgirl Diplomacy

To Alistair's relief, it didn't take sex to get Zathrian to agree to break the curse upon the werewolves.

Instead, it took a hug.

As he so often found himself doing, Alistair watched as Elissa reasoned with Zathrian. Once she learned of the fate of his children, Zathrian's reaction to realizing she was pregnant suddenly made a great deal more sense.

"Tell me, do I favor her?" she asked softly, somehow managing to be understanding of the elf's pain in spite of her fury at his deception.

"Yes," Zathrian answered, his shoulders hunching slightly with the pain of the admission. "As much as a human might. Had she borne the shemlen child of the beasts who raped her, it might have looked very much like you."

Somehow, Elissa got through to him, was able to make him see the harm the curse was doing to his own people and the need to break it. Her trust and mercy toward the Lady and the werewolves helped to guide Zathrian. He gave his life, and the curse was ended.

Elissa was pensive for days as they made their way back to the Dalish camp. She answered Alistair's flirtations with perfunctory smiles, but her eyes were distant. It caused Alistair no small amount of worry. It would be his luck if he were to lose her interest before he even had a chance to progress beyond courtship.

He remembered those early days after Ostagar when he had been lost in thought and memories and remorse. Elissa had pulled him out of it, not with half-hearted teasing, but by getting him to talk about it. Was that simply her way, he wondered? Or was that her role, as their leader? Was it something he should be doing, if he was going to help take some of the burden of leadership from her?

"Would you like to talk about it?" he offered at last, and her troubled eyes finally turned to him.

"I've been thinking that despite my best efforts, I'm a hypocrite after all," she said slowly.

That was unexpected. "What?! You may be the most sincere person I've ever met. How would you ever get that idea?"

"I remember that last night in Highever. I remember my little nephew with his throat slit, my sister-in-law laying in a pool of her own blood, her beautiful body a defiled, mangled wreck. I remember my mother vowing to subject herself to Howe's men's 'sport' if it bought me a few more moments to make my escape."

Tears flashed in Elissa's blue eyes, then, and she dashed them away, turning her gaze from his. "And I wonder... had those werewolves been named Howe, would I have given over my vengeance as Zathrian did? Or would I have persisted, no matter how many centuries passed, no matter who suffered along the way?"

"You wouldn't," Alistair told her emphatically.

"How can you be so sure?" she asked, a hitch to her voice.

"I've seen you, all these months," he said, pulling her to him. She stiffened for a moment, and then sank into him. "All the trouble you go to to spare lives everyone else has written off. Maker knows you're entitled to your vengeance, and I swear I'll be there with you on the day you take it, but you won't take it at the cost of innocent lives. And I promise you if it looks like you're heading in that direction, I'll let you know."

Elissa sighed, and suddenly everything within her eased as though she had laid aside some terrible burden. It was the first time Alistair really let himself consider just how much he had expected her to take on, how tardy he was in beginning to help her bear some of it.

It was fortunate, he supposed, that she was trained to lead, to rule. Better still that despite her youth, she was self-possessed enough to cope with such responsibility. Anyone else might have cracked.

No. Laying it all upon her the way he had had definitely not been his finest moment.

Elissa was still quiet and thoughtful when they returned to the Dalish camp and she related to Lanaya—now the new keeper, Alistair supposed—what had happened. He had thought they might stay among the Dalish for a day or two after they secured the keeper's agreement to honor their treaty, but instead they merely restocked what supplies they could from what the Dalish had to offer and set out that same day.

They would cross Ferelden yet again and go deep into the Frostback Mountains to Orzammar. It would be a long journey, and Alistair could see their people were tired. Wynne's shoulders sagged wearily, Leliana's cheerful smile was absent, Zevran was making no effort to flirt with anyone... even Sten seemed more stoic than usual.

On top of that, the weather had turned unseasonably warm for early spring and except for Elissa in her ridiculous scrap of leather that could barely be called armor at all, they were all still geared for cooler weather. Everyone seemed distinctly wilted.

Not least of all Alistair himself. Maker's breath, how was it that he always managed to forget over the course of the winter just how bloody hot it could get inside plate armor on a warm day?

Finally he'd had enough. When they emerged into a large clearing not far from the stream they had been following, he called a halt.

"Um, look... everyone, stop. We're going to make camp here today," he announced.

Their reaction was about what he'd expected it to be for any attempt at leadership on his part: carefully blank faces and blinking eyes darting uncertainly toward Elissa, who had turned her own quizzical gaze upon him.

She stared at him a long moment, but thankfully didn't see fit to undermine him, either by questioning his command or reiterating it using her own authority. Instead, she obligingly began setting down her pack and bedroll, and soon the others were doing the same.

"Is there a reason why we're making camp in the middle of the afternoon?" she asked under her breath as he began unloading his own burdens.

"You've been distracted. Maybe you didn't notice just how tired everyone is. Some of the fights in the forest and ruins took a lot out of them," Alistair answered, unbuckling his chestpiece. Without the steel encasing him, the day was suddenly not so unbearably warm. His legplates and boots soon followed. "This seems like as good a spot to camp as any; the stream is nearby, so we can all bathe, and we haven't bumped into anything nasty for a while, so it appears to be fairly safe. I thought we might stay a day or two, rest up a bit. Maybe sort through our gear and decide which of the winter supplies we can do without. It will practically be summer by the time we get into the mountains again; we may as well lighten our loads."

When she didn't answer, he looked up to find her watching him intently. "What?"

"Nothing," she said, giving herself a small shake as she stared at him with a wondering smile. "Those are all truly excellent ideas."

Having laid down her pack, she placed her fists at the small of her back and arched, stretching with a long sigh of relief. The motion pushed her rounded belly outward, and Alistair nearly swallowed his tongue.

He hadn't really noticed the changes of her pregnancy until she had acquired her Dalish armor, but since she had, it was rapidly becoming an obsession with him.

Suddenly, Alistair began to smile, and it was Elissa's turn to ask slowly, "What?"

"I just realized, we're weeks away from Orzammar."

"Yes. Yes, we are," she agreed cautiously.

"Until we get there, we have no crises to resolve, no allies that need placating, no duties that need discharging. No distractions."

"This is all true," she acknowledged. "But what's your point?"

"We may never have another time when it's so close to being just the two of us," he said, no longer smiling. Indeed, suddenly he was deadly earnest.

Understanding lit Elissa's face. "Ahh. You're absolutely right. What, then, do we intend to do with this reprieve?"

"Come with me. Into the forest. Right now."

Her eyes widened. "You're sure?"

"Yes," Alistair breathed, his heart pounding. "After Orzammar, after we get the dwarves to fulfill their treaty, it's all going to be... politics and war and the archdemon. I don't know what's going to happen. And I don't know if there's ever going to be a truly right time, but I'm absolutely certain there's never going to be a better time."

Elissa drew a deep breath and nodded. "All right, then."

Before he knew it, Alistair had scooped up his bedroll and was practically dragging her by her hand into the woods at a run, ignoring Zevran and Leliana's laughter and cat-calls.

Alistair refused to let himself think too much. Instead, he loped along, to the bank of the stream, looking for someplace warm and dry and far enough from camp to afford them some privacy. Elissa giggled merrily as she followed until they reached a sunlight-dappled hollow.

The air was even warmer here without the shade of the trees, and it smelled rich and fragrant with new growth. Suddenly Elissa wasn't giggling anymore, as he threw down the bedroll and spun to take her up into his arms, lifting her off the ground as his lips found hers hungrily.

Her skin was warm and slightly damp under his fingers after their run, the scent of her sunwarmed hair intoxicating. Doubt and uncertainty and insecurity kept wanting to creep in but he pushed them back and just let himself feel as her hands delved under his ragged woolen tunic to grip him tighter, her fingertips kneading firmly into the flesh of his back.

He ducked and she jerked the tunic over his head, and then her lips and teeth began to do marvelous things to his neck and shoulders. Her tongue ran down his chest and, oh, Maker... Alistair's head fell back, his hands clenching on her shoulders as her tongue stroked his nipple.

Somehow his shaking fingers managed to find the thin leather thong that laced the tight, brief leather armor covering her breasts and release it. His hands eagerly pushed it from her shoulders, anxious to get at the soft mounds he'd been admiring for so long, but he found himself frustrated by the linen strip binding her breasts. With a groan he tore at the knot tying it and Elissa hissed, her hands flying up to cup her own breasts when he pulled the cloth away.

Concerned, he pulled back. "Does that hurt?"

She shook her head. "Only for a moment, when the bindings first come off and there's nothing supporting them anymore," she said with a small smile. "There. It's already better."

His hands came up to cover hers, and slowly she eased her own hands away. Then there was only his hands on her flesh and he had to close his eyes for a moment, the sight was so powerful. He wanted to... he wasn't really sure what he wanted to do, now that he had his hands on her breasts. That had been a bit of a goal in and of itself, and he hadn't put a great deal of thought into the follow-up.

He was a mass of conflicting desires, wanting to wait passively as Elissa guided and pleasured him and at the same time wanting to touch and taste and know every inch of her right now. But it was the sight of her belly there just beneath his hands that settled the matter.

That hard, rounded belly, so flagrantly displayed, did something to him. The knowledge that it was his brother's child she carried awoke something dark within him, something primal and possessive. It was driving him mad, had been driving him mad for days and days since she'd gotten that damned Dalish armor.

He surrendered to that madness.

Without ever intending to do anything of the sort, he was on his knees on the ground, pulling her down with him, practically ripping off her boots. He wasn't sure if she unfastened the pleated leather around her waist or if he did, but she definitely lifted her hips to allow him to slide it down her thighs, and her smallclothes afterward.

And then she was on her back on the ground before him—Maker, he hadn't even laid out the bloody bedroll!—and he was upon her, sucking and licking and groping, touching her harder than he'd ever thought to touch her, not so much caressing as laying claim. She may have said something about slowing down, but he was beyond hearing anything but the roaring of his own pulse in his ears.

Madness. That was the only word for it, that Alistair found himself lying between her legs with no knowledge of how he came to be there, frantically pushing his breeches and smallclothes down his hips. When he felt the head of his cock brush the softness of her sex, any remaining hope of control was lost and he was pushing and prodding blindly, no idea where he needed to go but knowing he needed to be there right now.

Her hand was there, guiding him, and when he pushed she parted to him and then he was inside her and Maker's breath! she was tight and hot and wet around him. He pulled back and pushed deeper, and deeper. He wasn't sure that keening sound she was making was a good thing or not and he knew he should slow down enough to find out but she felt too good and the only thought that made any sense to him at all was more.

Elissa's knees came up to grip his hips at the same time he shoved himself up on his arms and reared back. He opened his eyes and saw her lying there beneath him, her eyes clenched shut and her face contorted by something somewhere between ecstasy and pain. He surged forward and her mouth opened on a long moan, her hands gripping his upper arms so tightly that her nails dug into his skin. Even that pain felt good and so he repeated the movement, driving harder, deeper, and she wailed, her nails scoring him again, and again on the next thrust.

This wasn't progressing anything like the way he'd imagined it would. It wasn't loving and romantic, it was savage and needful. He'd thought he'd explore her slowly, pleasure her but instead he found himself simply taking her and Maker help him, he couldn't bring himself to care about the other things as his control began to fray and unravel.

He drove into her again, and again, straining and pumping, and the only thing that kept him from simply going until he was spent was the knowledge, somewhere in the shred of consciousness he retained, that she'd left his brother's bed unfulfilled to seek out another man.

That mattered.

Even as the thought occurred to him, Elissa's hand was moving between their bodies, and it pulled him back enough to realize he didn't just want her to give herself pleasure, he wanted to know what was necessary for him to give her pleasure.

Beads of sweat rolled off his skin as he gasped, "Show me!"

Her eyes fluttered open, dazed and unfocused, as Alistair took his weight upon one arm and wedged his hand between them with hers. He had no idea what he was seeking, though, and his own desire for release was making him shake. But then Elissa's fingers were upon his, leading him until he felt something small and slick and hard beneath his fingertips. She began guiding his fingers in circles upon it.

"There. Harder. Oh, Maker, yes...."

Her mouth fell open as her eyes drifted shut. She let out another gasp as her hips tilted slightly and he felt her clench around him and sweet Andraste he hadn't thought it could feel any tighter....

"Yes, Alistair. Like that. Ooh, Maker's mercy, now move...."

He did as she bade, and once he was in motion again it was nearly impossible to remember why he'd stopped in the first place. He drove into her as though he were possessed, as though his very life depending on reaching the deepest part of her. His fingers stuttered to a halt and forgot to circle, but it no longer seemed to matter because she was lifting her hips to meet his thrusts and each time they slammed together it drove his fingertips against the nub he'd felt and reminded his fingers of their job.

Elissa was moaning and giving short, breathless cries that he could hardly hear because the roaring was back in his ears and the wet heat of her was incredible and dear Maker if this was madness he never wanted to be sane again and then it was all flying apart in light and sound and ragged thrusts as he found his release deep within her. She lifted her hips and his fingers remembered to move and then she was crying out and shuddering and clenching and holy Andraste it was almost like coming a second time when she tightened around him.

When the pulsing of her hot sheath finally stopped and she lay breathless beneath him, Alistair almost collapsed on top of her. Some instinct reminded him of the baby at the last moment and he pushed himself over enough to topple to the side. The ground was dirty and itchy and uncomfortable against his sweaty skin but he was too busy remembering how to breathe to find the energy to care. He wondered that Elissa didn't seem to mind it, however, and began to feel self-conscious about his behavior.

Was she offended? Displeased? Should he apologize? Promise to do better next time? Beg her for the chance to prove he could do better next time?

But, no, she was rolling over to snuggle up against him and she was smiling contentedly. Beads of perspiration stood out against the skin of her forehead and he wanted to kiss them away. Before he even realized he intended to do so, he was.

"Mmm," Elissa sighed, opening her eyes. "Feel better now?"

"Andraste's blood, yes," Alistair answered emphatically, still panting slightly. "I feel like perhaps I should apologize."

"Whatever for?"

"That... wasn't how I meant for things to go," he said, resting his cheek against the top of her head as she nuzzled his shoulder. "I always thought I'd... go slower, take my time with it, do it better...."

"Better?" she lifted her head to arch an eyebrow at him. "My, you are ambitious," she said with a teasing smile.

"I mean... less frantic pawing and groping and more tenderness and romance."

"Tenderness and romance has its place," she shrugged. "But I'm perfectly happy with frantic pawing and groping sometimes as well."

Sighing, he stroked his hand down her ribs until his fingers encountered the mound of her belly, and he grew still. "How...?" he halted, swallowing, hating himself for the impulse to ask the question. "How was it with Cailan?"

He saw her start to smile, saw a teasing response rise automatically to her lips. But when she looked at him, saw how sincere he was, she swallowed it and grew serious. "I played a role with Cailan," she said, dropping her eyes. "What happened between us wasn't real; it was all a lie."

"But what did happen?"

"I made him force me," she sighed. "I played the reluctant maid when he was set upon seduction. I kept escalating the game, responding enough to make him desire more and then protesting, only to yield again and whet his appetite still further until he was desperate. I even made him think I'd use deadly force to defend my own honor, to awaken his battle-lust, made him see me as an enemy to be vanquished."

Alistair swallowed hard, staring at her in disbelief. "He raped you?"

"No!" Elissa shook her head emphatically. "I was willing. But he didn't know that. He thought he raped me. I made him think it, and his remorse gave me the handle I needed to manipulate him."

"But if you refused and he didn't stop, isn't it the same thing?" he persisted, disturbed. "It doesn't matter that you were pretending; as far as he knew, you were unwilling. He should have stopped."

"Perhaps you're right," she said, resting her head on his shoulder once more. "Cailan was a very spoiled and impetuous man. Good-natured, yes, and very kind so long as life pleased him, but he saw no reason that what he desired should not be his. It was those very traits that led him to think he could go against a Blight with an insufficient army simply so he could claim the glory for defeating it all for himself. I knew that, long before I ever went to Ostagar. It wasn't for his sterling character that I intended to wed him, after all. I was young and foolish and nothing mattered except my childish ambition. I didn't know any better. I didn't think what life with a man who could be 'made' to rape a woman might be like."

"And here I just set upon you like an absolute brute," Alistair grumbled, and a horrifying thought occurred to him. "There were moments... I think you were saying something to me, but I couldn't tell what it was. Were you asking me to stop?"

"No," she said. "Never once did I say any such thing, I swear to you. And if I had, you would have stopped."

"How can you be so sure?" he asked uncertainly.

"Because you are not Cailan," she said simply. "You understand self-restraint."

"I didn't feel terribly restrained a few minutes ago," he said with a chuckle.

"No," she answered with a wicked grin that made certain parts of him twitch with interest, "you most certainly didn't."

"Maybe I should try that again, this time with a little more of that tenderness and romance I always envisioned?"

Elissa gave an exaggerated sigh. "Well, if you insist...."

But first they got off the prickly ground and bathed, pausing only to allow Alistair to shuck the breeches he'd never managed to fully rid himself of in his earlier haste. The stream was frigid, and they could barely do more than splash water on their skin and clean off the dirt from the ground and the sweat and fluids of their lovemaking before they retreated. Elissa's nipples were rock-hard points sitting erect on the mounds of her breasts when they emerged, and their skin was cold and dotted with goose-flesh.

He took the time to lay out the bedroll, and then they sat together, pressed against one another until the heat of their bodies warmed them and the sunlight shining down into the clearing dried their skin.

With the overwhelming urgency of his long-denied need sated, Alistair was able to slow down and regroup, to remember the things she had said to him about pleasure so long ago in the Fade, the things he'd been experimenting with over the past several days since that first afternoon together in the forest when they had first slept in each other's arms. Not that they'd had much time or opportunity for experimentation, unfortunately, but he'd managed to steal a few more covert caresses as they lay together at night, both too aware of the presence of the other to truly sleep.

Trying to ignore her breasts for a moment, he leaned in close and began to explore her ear with his mouth. He traced the shell with his tongue, pulled on her earlobe with his lips. When she gave a pleased hum and tilted her head to give him better access, he took it for encouragement and sucked lightly.

When she closed her eyes and sighed his name, he could have shouted in triumph.

The skin of her neck tasted marvelous, and soon he was licking there less for her pleasure than his own. The tendon between her neck and shoulder practically begged him to nibble upon it and when he did, her hips rocked and she moaned softly. He wanted to hear that sound again, and again.

His hand returned to her breast, this time with a distinct purpose in mind. His thumb brushed across the peak of her nipple and there was a new sound, an even better sound. When his fingers closed over her nipple and squeezed gently, she hummed her approval and murmured, "Harder."

"Won't that hurt?"

"A little. Sometimes a little is good. And once in a great while, a little more is even better."

Obligingly, he squeezed harder and Maker the way she moved as she bit her lip and whimpered made his body surge in ways he'd never imagined could result from seeing pain on the face of the woman he loved.

When he released her she sagged limply against him, panting in a way that was almost better than the initial reaction to the pain had been. Her eyes when they opened to meet his were liquid and strangely peaceful.

"Again," she gasped after a moment.

His fingers closed upon her other nipple and he pinched firmly. Her body went rigid, and she writhed against him and fought to pull away. Instinct told him not to let go, despite her struggles, until her mouth opened on a wordless cry.

"Enough for now," she whispered as she caught her breath, and Alistair's hand gently soothed over the nipple he'd handled so roughly and her response was such that it seemed the gentle caress was much more intense than it had been before, as though she were now more sensitive even to light touches.

By now, he was hard and eager again, but content to take his time and continue his exploration. His hands covered the soft swell of her belly that had been preoccupying him so and he slid down to stroke his face across the oddly taut skin, examining the outer edges of the mound with his hands, tasting her skin. He practically wallowed against it, and looked up, abashed, to see her gazing at him with adoration.

"That's... quite a fetish you've got there," Elissa said, her voice sounding choked. She reached down to caress his face, and he paused, resting his head on her abdomen.

Seeing her reaction, it suddenly occurred to him that what he was touching was more than just an object of erotic fascination. Come the summer, she would be a mother, and if Alistair was still a part of her life, this child would be a part of his life as well.

His brother's child.

Her child.

Without intending to do it, he placed a kiss on her belly, and then another on her hand as it cupped the side of his face.

"Did I mention that I love you?" he said out of nowhere, his heart pounding much harder than it should have been.

"I love you, too," she murmured, closing her eyes—though not before he saw the sheen in them.

It was a long moment before he continued his exploration, sliding still further down her body. Suddenly her sex was before him, all dark curls and a musky aroma that filled his head. It also appeared to be incredibly confusing, all hair and folds of skin with nothing that leaped out and screamed touch here!

For Andraste's sake, where was the nub he'd caressed earlier?

"Show me?" he repeated the words he'd spoken earlier, and this time it was nothing at all like the demand it had been before.

He heard Elissa chuckle softly, but her hand slid obligingly down her body as she spread her legs wider.

"Different caresses can do all sorts of marvelous things, depending on how far lovemaking has progressed." Alistair had never thought a lecture could be arousing, but she was doing something with her voice, something throaty and purring, and it made it hard to concentrate on her words. "Early on, a light stroke of the fingertips, here, along the outside of the lips. Just a tease, a hint of more to come. Or perhaps a finger firmly along the center, as though you would part the folds, but then you withdraw to tease some more."

Her fingers parted, formed an inverted "V" as they pressed on her flesh and pushed the folds apart, and suddenly everything was slick and shiny and pink. Her scent intensified and Alistair thought if he hadn't spent his mad hunger in such a furious rush earlier, surely that aroma would have driven him to it now. He wanted to rub his face in it, bathe in her essence and before he knew it he was tasting her and....

"Oh, Maker's breath!" he groaned, because she tasted better than she smelled, tangy and smoky and just a hint of sweetness also. He wanted to lap every drop of that flavor from her, wanted to suck it out of her, wanted....

"Here," Elissa's voice reached him when he was on the cusp of diving in and devouring her. Her fingertip pressed against a small, incredibly convoluted spot at the apex of her crevice and her hips instantly shifted at her own touch. "Everything else is pleasant, and a tongue inside can feel amazing. But if your concern is with giving pleasure, this is where you need to focus your attention, just as you did with your fingers. Firm strokes, unless your intent is merely to tease, increasing the pressure the more intense the pleasure becomes. You'll know by my sounds. Silence means it's time to try something new, or seek guidance, if you prefer. You can draw circles with the tip of your tongue, or figures-eight, or attempt to trace letters and write out the Chant of Light even."

"Not the thought I want to be having in this particular position," Alistair growled, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

Elissa's entire body seemed to shimmy as she giggled. "I didn't say you had to; your name will do just as well. Though, perhaps if the Chantry knew of that particular trick they might change their stance and encourage such pursuits. Soon the Maker's name would indeed be sung out from all corners of the earth."

Alistair's head fell against her thigh as he laughed helplessly. "You... are a wicked woman," he gasped breathlessly. "According to the sisters at the monastery, I should be struck by lightning right about now, and here you are tempting fate with your blasphemy!"

"I'll take my chances," she snickered then humming as his tongue found that spot and stroked firmly across it. "Mmmm, at least if that lightning strikes, we'll go to the Fade happy."

Alistair had no response for that, because he suddenly found his mouth very busy. He held her folds apart with his thumbs and threw himself into the endeavor. Her hands stroked his hair as he experimented, listening to her sounds, feeling the helpless shifting and pushing of her hips as she strained toward his mouth. The flavor wasn't as strong here, and he found his tongue occasionally delving lower to sample it again, and when he thrust his tongue inside her and her hips came up off the bedroll, it was sublime, especially with her pleased moan ringing in his ears.

In time he discovered a pattern that seemed to satisfy his need to simply devour her which also brought those amazing sounds from her throat, and the more enthusiastic he was in his efforts the louder she became. The hands that had caressed his hair now clenched in it and she ground her sex against his mouth.

Alistair was drunk on her flavor and aroma, and the throbbing of his ignored cock was almost an afterthought, because he felt he could do this forever as long as she kept making those sounds. He seized upon a moment of inspiration and pushed two fingers into her and was gratified by her cry of pleasure.

"Yes. Oh, yes, Alistair... Maker, yes...." she panted, writhing as he began to work his fingers in and out in time to the strokes of his tongue, harder and faster until his hand was plunging with a force he hadn't ever imagined using with her. Her cries grew louder, more frantic, more breathless, and when he shoved his fingers in deep and sucked hard on that spot, she went rigid her hips arching, and she wailed his name.

He felt the pulsing and clenching of her muscles, felt the spasms shudder through her. He rested his head on her thigh as she subsided, with small shivers occasionally rippling across her body. In that moment of triumph, he felt like he could have single-handedly taken on the archdemon and the whole darkspawn horde and won the battle.

Second to his completely self-satisfied pride by only a very little was the fact that the need he'd been content to ignore before was now suddenly roaring and insistent, filling his head with the demand to be inside her now.

"Please," he breathed, pushing himself up to meet her glazed eyes. "May I...? I need...."

"Say it," she demanded, her eyes dark and her voice low and rough with something he couldn't name.

"I need to fuck you," he growled, the words rushed with his urgency. That darkness in Elissa's eyes flared into a blaze and suddenly she was in motion.

He didn't know how he ended up on his back, how suddenly she was on top of him, straddling him. He found he didn't much actually care as her mouth came down on his, hungry and demanding. When she broke the kiss and reared up, he pushed eagerly against her, his cock trapped between their bodies. She lifted off him and took him in hand and then she was sliding down onto him, taking him inside.

Maker's breath, how was it possible to forget in such a short amount of time how hot and tight it was inside her, how her muscles clenched and pulled at him as she rose up and down and drove him deeper and deeper inside her body?

His hands rose up to cover her breasts and he pulled on her nipples and her body tightened in response. Remembering her writhing movements earlier, he pinched down hard and sweet Andraste, the tension of her surrounding him increased and the motion of her body above him was indescribable.

He was able to take his time and watch her, watch the way her breasts bounced as she rode him, the way she rolled her hips forward when she settled fully down on him, as though seeking a different sort of pressure than merely that of him filling her. But soon his pulse was roaring in his ears again and his hands were shaking as he pulled on her hips, adding force to drive her down upon him harder while he braced his feet and thrust up to meet her.

She was sweating and panting, her breasts wet and heaving as she worked, her eyes clamped shut with an intent look of concentration on her face. Her hand slid down her round belly and Alistair watched as her fingers circled and rubbed, watched as she brought herself to climax. The sight was unbelievably arousing. Her head fell back and a long, undulating moan fell from her lips as she tightened and clenched and shuddered.

And then he was following her, thrusting blindly up into her until the heat and pressure that blossomed and grew at the base of his cock spilled up into her in spurts so powerful it was nearly agony. Alistair groaned as his body seized and released.

When awareness returned, she was a slick, sweaty, overheated mass upon his chest, licking and kissing and sighing with contentment.

"Is it always... like that?" he panted when he regained the power of speech.

"Only if you're very lucky," Elissa chuckled.

"Oh, good," he said with relief. "I'm not entirely sure... too much of that... wouldn't just... kill me."

When she laughed, her muscles clamped and she bounced on his softening cock and it felt almost excruciatingly good, but when she stopped laughing and simply snuggled, it was almost better.

"Then again," he murmured, kissing her, "at least we'll go to the Fade happy, right?"