Reverse-Cowgirl Diplomacy

Pain. Everything was pain.

Holding her straight-backed, open-footed posture hurt. Keeping her arms extended hurt. Drawing back her bowstring sent bolts of numbing electricity shooting down from her buttock almost to her knee. Her leg had buckled twice already this morning; a flash of pain running down her thigh and then suddenly her knee gave out. She was desperately afraid it was going to happen again, and that Jarvia and her thugs would gain the upper hand.

While she stood near the back wall with her bow and attempted to make less of a target of herself, Zevran worked frantically to disarm the traps the Carta had laid. Suddenly one of the dwarven miscreants charged Elissa, his dagger flashing toward her exposed abdomen, and she just barely managed to repel him with a jab to the throat with the end of her bow. One of Leliana's arrows pierced him and he was suddenly encased in ice from Morrigan's spell. A mighty swing of Sten's sword and the dwarf shattered.

The traps were disarmed, Alistair and Zevran and Shale advanced on Jarvia and her cadre of associates, and the dwarves were falling before them. When Jarvia was finally gurgling out her last breaths on the floor of the cavern, Elissa slumped back against the stone wall and dropped her bow. A second later, another bolt of lightning shot down her leg and it once again refused to bear any weight.

"Maker's breath!" she heard Leliana gasp, and looked up to see the bard running toward her. At first, she thought Leliana had noticed her nearly topple over until her leg would support her again, but instead, Leliana's eyes were wide and horrified and staring at Elissa's belly.

Elissa glanced down and wished she hadn't. Blood was running in rivulets down her swollen abdomen, nearly coating her bare skin in a cascading sheet of scarlet. A humming began in her ears, and her fingertips felt numb. A cold sweat prickled her skin, and then the room went dark.


*****


She roused with Alistair hovering over her and realized he'd pulled her into his lap. Leliana's pale, anxious face was beyond him, and Wynne was crouching at her side. She could feel the cool tingling of a rejuvenation spell still lingering, but Wynne's ministrations now were purely non-magical as she wiped Elissa's belly with a damp cloth.

She murmured, "It's hardly more than a scratch. It just looked frightening."

"Thank the Maker!" Alistair breathed in unison with Leliana. She thought she may have even heard some Antivan invocation being muttered from somewhere beyond her line of sight. Morrigan gave a derisive snort, Shale an impatient rumble, and Sten growled.

"That armor is useless as protection," he remarked, not for the first time.

"It's not, actually. I don't know how the Dalish managed it, but the leather is incredibly resilient to most slicing and piercing attacks and protects my heart rather nicely, but as for the rest of me... I wonder if pregnant Dalish women simply avoid combat?" Elissa sighed, trying to push herself up, but Wynne shoved at her shoulder and commanded Alistair to keep her still.

"I can't believe I passed out over a scratch," she muttered, her face burning.

"In fairness, it was an incredibly terrifying scratch," Alistair pointed out reassuringly. "I nearly passed out from the sight of it. It looked like you'd been eviscerated, not to mention the idea that something may have happened to the baby."

Elissa nodded, closing her eyes so the others didn't see the sudden tears that were burning. She was their leader. Maybe in the privacy of their bed some night she'd tell Alistair about that sickening surge of terror as the thought that her babe might have been injured, but she couldn't let the rest of their party see it.

"How are you feeling otherwise?" Wynne asked in that mild, clinical tone she used when healing their injuries. Elissa hissed as she began rubbing a salve on the cut.

"I think something is wrong with my back, or maybe my leg," Elissa said, describing the pain and weakness she had been feeling.

Wynne nodded. "A fairly common complaint for women in their late pregnancy," she said sagely. "Hopefully the babe will move soon and it will pass. I would advise you to rest, but...." the mage shrugged helplessly and Elissa shook her head.

"Is there anything you can do?" she asked plaintively. "I'm becoming a liability in combat."

"I'll brew a potion to help with the pain, but there's nothing I can do for the sudden weakness in your leg; that's going to keep happening until the babe moves," Wynne frowned. "Back massage may help as well with the discomfort."

"Thank you, Wynne. Help me up," she urged Alistair. "Let's go report back to Prince Bhelen."

"Tell me again why we're supporting that creep?" Alistair complained.

"Because Harrowmont’s second dismissed me out of hand when he realized I couldn't fight for him in the Proving without undermining my own threat by assigning one of you to be my champion," Elissa replied, grimacing. "Not that I was particularly anxious to risk the safety of one of my people merely to gratify a mass of bored dwarves by participating in their bloodsport. You know I find such diversions abhorrent."

She wanted to lean on Alistair as they made their way out of the Carta's lair and back into Orzammar proper, but she couldn't bear to expose herself to more of Morrigan's sneers. For some reason, the witch had never warmed to her, despite Elissa's efforts to draw her out. She had thought she was making headway until Morrigan learned of her pregnancy, and then the witch withdrew and would not permit any overtures of friendship, even after Elissa diverted their company and dispatched Flemeth for her. The problem had only intensified once Elissa and Alistair began to grow closer.

She didn't stand on ceremony once she was in Bhelen's presence, but instead sank into a chair. She was one of the highest ranked nobles in Ferelden and she'd be damned if she'd stand before him like a servant while he lounged and listened to her report.

Besides, she'd much rather be accused of lese majesty than run the risk of her leg buckling under her and sending her toppling to the floor before him. Luckily as a fairly new father himself, Bhelen seemed quite interested in and considerate of her pregnancy, at least so long as it didn't hinder his ambition.

It was, possibly, his only redeeming virtue. Prince Bhelen was exactly the sort of noble she despised most, assuming his birthright guaranteed him authority rather than seeking to prove his worthiness to rule. In theory, the deshyrs should have counter-balanced that, much as the Fereldan Landsmeet did, but they seemed to be doing an ineffective job of it.

Though, if she was honest with herself, at least some of her discomfort with Bhelen was due to the fact that she was relying on much the same mindset on the part of the Landsmeet and hoping the Fereldan nobility would value Alistair's Theirin blood over Loghain's accomplishments.

Then there was also the fact that, ruthless as he was, she was reasonably certain Prince Bhelen would be the more effective ruler. She didn't like the fact that she recognized this, much less that she would use it to her advantage.

After she was seated, Alistair took up position behind her shoulder. She still did most of the talking, but he now attended these sorts of meetings, asserting his status as her equal and co-leader. Unfortunately, she could practically feel his disapproval radiating off him. He really was not happy with her choice to support Bhelen, no matter how valid her reasoning.

Over the course of the conversation, Elissa decided she quite despised Orzammar. Forget the bloodthirsty back-stabbing politics and convoluted social structure. The entire place was too warm and close, and though her nose had become accustomed to the constant undercurrent of brimstone in the air, she hadn't had a breath of fresh air in over a week. She'd never realized just how much she relied on clean air until she hadn't felt a breeze upon her skin in days.

She left the audience having given her promise to travel into the Deep Roads on what she was certain was a fool's errand. She wasn't looking forward to the task. Their previous foray into the Deep Roads while traveling to locate Lord Dace at Aeducan Thaig had been simple enough, but she would regret leaving her comfortable room at the inn for however long it would take.

The rest of their company was no happier over the prospect, and she could feel Wynne's concerned gaze upon her even though the mage chose not to say anything. Wynne feared Elissa was pushing herself too hard.

Secretly, Elissa agreed with her.

As they left the royal palace, she noticed Wynne falling into step with Zevran and murmuring to him. It wasn't until Zevran nodded and began to jog to catch up with she and Alistair that she understood just what the mage might have said.

"Ah, Wardens? Might I beg a moment of your time?" he began with cheerful deference.

"What's on your mind, Zevran?" Elissa asked without much real curiosity. The pain in her back and leg was excruciating, and all she really cared about was getting back to the inn and lying down.

"I could not help overhearing our mage's advice to you earlier, specifically that a massage might help with your pain. With all respect, Alistair, I do not imagine that templar training places any emphasis on those particular skills. I, on the other hand, am very skilled with such things, yes?"

Elissa's lips twitched as Zevran tactfully refrained from mentioning that she already knew quite well just how skilled he was. Alistair didn't actually seem terribly jealous of Zevran, merely quietly resigned to Elissa's history with the assassin and the necessity of Zevran's continued presence, but it wouldn't do to flaunt reminders before him.

"I see how our fair Warden is suffering, yes? And so I would like to volunteer my services in this regard," Zevran announced. Ostensibly his offer was being made to both of them, but his eyes were on Alistair.

"A massage." Alistair repeated dubiously.

"Only a massage if that is your wish," Zevran hastened to assure him. "I have no desire to interfere where I am not welcome. Of course, should you desire more, well, that can also be arranged."

Elissa practically groaned, cursing Zevran's never-ending need to flirt. Alistair's posture immediately tightened, and his eyes became shuttered. He looked very deliberately at Elissa, but said nothing. He would not refuse on her behalf, but clearly the prospect made him uncomfortable.

"Thank you for your very kind offer, Zevran," Elissa said gently, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze. "But I think I would rather simply rest right now. Perhaps another time."

"Ah, as you desire," Zevran said with a bow of his head and walked away from them. Elissa darted a careful glance at Alistair, attempting to read his mood. Strangely, the relief she had expected to find on his face was absent. He didn't look particularly pleased that she had refused Zevran's offer.

Confused by his mood but too weary to pursue the topic, Elissa sighed and turned her attention to other matters.

"Leliana!" she called to the bard, "can I trouble you to run an errand for me before we venture back into the Deep Roads?"

"Of course," Leliana offered kindly. "What can I do for you?"

"I would like you to take some of the chainmail we gathered in the Carta's hideout, the stuff we were intending to sell. Seek out one of the finer dwarven armorsmiths to whom to offer it in trade; perhaps that lyrium-addled one, he seemed quite skilled and also politically neutral. See what they can cobble together for me in terms of protection for my entire torso. It will have to be quite large; I'm getting huger by the day. But it can't have so much excess that it drags or becomes cumbersome. Perhaps it could be cinched with a belt around the hips so that there's no slack after it drapes down past my belly? It wouldn't do to be wearing a chainmail gown, after all."

Elissa stamped her foot in frustration and immediately regretted the impulse when a bolt of pain shot down her leg. "Maker, I don't even know what will work. This is absurd! What I wouldn't give for Master Wade's skills right now; surely he'd be able to conceive of something."

"I will find something," Leliana assured her, stroking her shoulder comfortingly.

"Thank you," Elissa said gratefully. "Tell them we'd like to have it in three days' time, but that we'll delay our journey into the Deep Roads a while longer if they can promise something particularly useful and well-crafted. Spread the word to the others that I advise you to take advantage of the comfort of your rooms and enjoy them while you can. I don't know how long Prince Bhelen's errand is going to take us away from here."

"Of course," Leliana promised with a sweet smile, and once she had left and the rest of their companions had dispersed, Elissa allowed herself the luxury of leaning upon Alistair for the rest of the walk to the inn.

Once in the privacy of their room, she sank down upon the bed with a miserable groan, too tired and in too much pain even to remove her Dalish leather, much less bathe. The blood had dried and flaked, covering her entire belly, but she couldn't be moved to care about it. Alistair watched her with concern.

"It's that bad?"

"It hurts, Alistair," she moaned, rolling in an effort to find a position in which to lie that didn't hurt.

"How long has this been going on? Why haven't you said anything before?"

"Days," Elissa answered with a whimper. "And what could I have said that wouldn't undermine our people's confidence in my leadership?" She closed her eyes. "Maker's breath, I don' t know if I can continue doing this. I'm not some pampered noblewoman who confines herself in a dark, airless room for months on end while she's pregnant. I've seen the peasants in the fields, sowing and picking crops with their great bellies before them and it seems to me they're far healthier than most of my contemporaries. I would happily emulate them. But what we're doing... the travel, the fighting... I just don’t know anymore, Alistair."

"Maybe...." he ventured slowly, uncertainly, "maybe you should remain here in Orzammar and I can lead the others into the Deep Roads."

She gazed at him tiredly, unable even to muster a reassuring smile. "As much as I appreciate the offer, we can't do that. If the dwarves or any of our allies get the idea that I'm frail or less than capable, it could affect their willingness to aid us. If I don't go, it will send a message we don't want to send."

"We'll tell them I'm in charge," he said firmly.

"They're expecting us to be in charge; the Grey Wardens. If they lose confidence in that idea, if they take the notion that one of the two remaining Wardens in all of Ferelden is incapacitated, I honestly don't know what will happen. We can't take that risk, no matter how good you've become at taking the initiative and putting yourself forward as a leader. We've presented ourselves as a partnership; we can't change that perception now."

Alistair nodded unhappily and sat for a long moment watching her struggle to get comfortable. Lying on her side, she slid one pillow under her belly in an effort to lessen the strain on her back, and wedged another between her knees, seeking to alleviate the discomfort in her hips. She had just settled in when Alistair rose abruptly and left the room, the door closing somewhat harder than necessary behind him.

Dismayed, Elissa found she could not immediately drift off the sleep as she had intended to do. He returned only moments later, bearing a jug of ale and a vial, and behind him came Zevran, looking cautiously pleased with himself.

"Alistair, what are you doing?" she asked as he sat on the bed beside her. He tugged her up to sitting and handed her the vial, then began to unlace her blood-splattered Dalish leather.

“Taking the initiative," he murmured, then looked up. "That’s Wynne’s potion. You need to drink all of it. She said she’ll brew some more for tomorrow. Will you bring the ewer and basin, Zevran?"

Perplexed, Elissa drank the potion and allowed him to strip her down to her smallclothes. Zevran placed the stoneware ewer and basin on the bedside table and climbed onto the bed behind her. He poured water into the basin and wet a cloth, then wrung the excess water from it and handed it to Alistair before wetting another cloth.

Alistair began to carefully wash the dried blood from her belly, delicately avoiding the healing wound there, while Zevran set to work on her shoulders and back. She sat, as obedient and compliant as a sick child, while they bathed her, but even her weariness and pain couldn't entirely dampen the small flare of arousal that tightened her body. This bore far too many similarities to some of her most cherished fantasies for her to be completely immune to the erotic potential even in such carefully chaste ministrations. She might be far too miserable to act upon it, but it didn't stop her from feeling it.

Zevran pushed her hair over her shoulder and his cool, wet cloth ran over the back of her neck while Alistair turned his attention to her legs, washing her from thigh to foot with long strokes of his cloth. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to enjoy the situation even while being aware that from his position, Alistair couldn't possibly miss noting her response. Even if he didn't detect the scent of her arousal—and from the flaring of his nostrils, he most assuredly did—he could doubtless see the damp patch on her smallclothes.

"What's the ale for?" she asked as Alistair laid aside his cloth and simply knelt in the floor between her legs. Zevran's strokes at her back had taken on the feel of caresses, rather than a purposeful effort at cleaning her skin.

"That," he sighed, "is for me. I'm not entirely sure I'm up for this without at least a little fortification."

"And what precisely might this be?" The question emerged carefully, cautiously.

"Alistair's request of me was that I give you the massage... and anything else necessary to see to your comfort," Zevran replied.

"That's a very generous offer," Elissa said, meeting Alistair's uncertain eyes. "Why?"

"Because I don't like seeing you suffer," he answered evasively, "and you're not going to be as effective leading us if you don't find some relief."

"Then why not merely stop with the massage? Why assume you'll need the 'fortification?'"

"Because I know you," he replied with a crooked grin, his finger lightly brushing the wet crotch of her smallclothes, more to draw her attention to it than to arouse. "It was considerate of you to turn down Zevran's offer for the sake of my sensibilities, but whatever happened to not changing?"

"I've grown up a bit since then," she answered somewhat sadly. "Besides, why should you be the only one whose boundaries are compromised to make this work?"

"Compromised? You make it sound like there's nothing in this that might appeal to me," Alistair snorted.

Arching a curious eyebrow, Elissa's foot slid up between his legs and tested the bulge hidden by a fold of cloth in his breeches. "Oh!" she said, surprised at just how appealing he was finding this prospect after all. "Oh, I see. But let's make certain to be clear, as ambiguity will serve none of us. What exactly do you envision happening tonight?"

Zevran responded first. "For myself, I would consider it a very great honor to give you the massage, and also see to your pleasure if you are of the mood, yes?"

"And you?" she asked Alistair.

His eyes darted toward Zevran and then back to her. "Let's... start with the massage, and see what my nerves will take beyond that."

Soon Elissa found herself in much the same position she'd been in when Alistair and Zevran had come into the room, lying on her side, but rolled forward as much as her belly would allow. Zevran arranged a pillow before her and she hooked her upper leg forward, letting the pillow support it.

It felt traitorous to think it, Elissa thought as she let him position her, but a part of her had missed Zevran's exquisitely talented touch. Alistair was turning out to be a much more fulfilling lover than she could ever have dreamed, and she wouldn't trade a moment with him. What he lacked in technique he made up for with sweetness and love, with sheer enthusiasm and a veritable treasure trove of hidden desires waiting to be discovered. But his hands possessed none of Zevran's nimble skill.

Unable to lie fully on her stomach, the position afforded Zevran the best possible access to her back and would have to do. She hugged another pillow to her chest and rested her cheek upon it as Zevran's hands began to knead her back.

Between Wynne's potion and Zevran's massage, she was soon without pain for the first time in days. She let herself drift, humming softly in pleasure when Zevran's deft fingers found a particularly achy spot and began to soothe it. When she happened to open her eyes and look at Alistair, he was watching, his golden eyes serious as he observed her relief.

Though she was aware of Zevran, there was very little by way of eroticism in the massage. He was minding his manners, quiet and focused upon his task. She felt a surge of gratitude and affection for him, that he should refrain from pushing Alistair's already strained boundaries even though surely he found this situation intriguing.

Eventually, soothed by Zevran’s skillful touch, she dozed, resting more comfortably than she had since they had come to Orzammar. And when she awoke, Zevran had left the bed and was indulging in a tankard of ale at the small table with Alistair.

"Ah, ale! Vile stuff, no?" he commented, shuddering as he took a sip. "I should prefer a good wine or brandy, but there is none to be found in this filthy cavern that masquerades as a city."

"At the very least, it would be nice to have some real ale, brewed from real wheat, rather than... whatever this is," Alistair agreed.

Elissa's eyes widened at this display of camaraderie, and even moreso when she took in Alistair's posture. He had removed his boots and was sitting reclined in his chair, his legs stretched out before him, clearly at ease. His words were unslurred, and he didn't appear drunk, but it was obvious he'd had more than one tankard of ale and was feeling quite relaxed.

Sensing her eyes upon him, he glanced over. When he saw Elissa was awake, he smiled reflexively at her. She felt something tighten in her chest at the adoration she saw there, at the knowledge that his first reaction upon seeing her, no matter how briefly she may have slept, was to smile as though he hadn't seen her in days and had missed her desperately.

Zevran noticed Alistair's attention was no longer upon him and looked over his shoulder at Elissa. "Ah, our lovely Warden has awakened. You are feeling better, yes?"

"I am, Zevran, thank you," Elissa murmured, stretching cautiously. When no pain answered her attempt to move, she grew more confident and began to push herself up, but Zevran quickly stopped her.

"Please, do not rise on my behalf! We were merely waiting to see how long you would rest before it was decided whether or not I should take my leave. Your fellow Warden and I have been... bonding... over the inferiority of dwarven beverages."

Elissa was amused by his perplexed tone. Zevran, never one for subtlety when it came to sex, cut straight to the heart of the matter. "Well then, my dear Wardens, what is your wish? Shall I return to my own room, or remain?"

"I...." Helplessly, she looked at Alistair, whose posture was now more alert, but she wouldn't call it wary or reluctant. In fact, she wasn't entirely certain what to call it. "How much ale have you had?" she asked finally.

"I'm not drunk, if that's what you're asking."

"Inebriated consent is no consent at all."

"I'm just... relaxed."

"And how has your relaxation informed your wishes?"

Alistair unfolded himself from the chair (crafted, inconveniently enough, for dwarven proportions) and returned to the side of the bed, kneeling before her. He took one of her hands in his and placed an ardent kiss upon it, his face mere inches from hers where she rested her cheek on the pillow.

"I haven't seen you smile since we came to this place," he murmured. "I want to see you smile again."

"You don't need Zevran to make me smile, my love," she said softly.

"Perhaps not, but he does take your pain away, and that helps. Honestly, right now I'm not sure how to touch you. I'm afraid of making things worse."

"I'm sure you would find a way."

"Maybe," Alistair said uncertainly. "Or maybe it would be better if I watched. Maybe I would learn something new. Or... maybe I would just enjoy myself."

There was a subtle leer in his voice that did indeed make her smile. "Is that your desire then?"

"Yes," he nodded resolutely. "I'll... watch. For now. We'll just see how it goes."

"Then kiss me," Elissa demanded, and Alistair replied with a tender enthusiasm that took her breath away. His hand cupped her breast, his calloused thumb skillfully plying the nipple to a hard peak, while his tongue plumbed her mouth deeply and possessively.

Somewhere during the kiss, she felt the bed move and realized that Zevran had climbed upon it. When he pressed himself against her back, embracing her from behind, she discovered he had stripped. His skin slid warm and bare against hers as his lips found the back of her neck. His hand covered Alistair's upon her breast, and slowly Alistair withdrew his own hand, leaving just Zevran delicately tweaking her nipple with his nimble fingers.

She felt Alistair's hand upon her hip. His fingers hooked inside her smallclothes and began to peel them away. Carefully, she shifted her body, lifting her hips slightly for a moment to aid the endeavor, and then she was bare. She whimpered softly, thinking there was something deeply symbolic in the fact that it was Alistair who removed her last scrap of clothing and exposed her to Zevran's touch. It was an unequivocal statement of consent.

Zevran's kisses ran along her shoulders as she watched Alistair take up his chair and tankard of ale and move them both closer to the bed, almost close enough to touch. He would not watch from across the room, distant and detached. Instead, he would be near enough to intervene—or perhaps participate—if it met his desire.

But it was not fair to focus on Alistair so when it was Zevran's hand doing delightful things to her nipple, and so she turned her head, ripped her gaze away from Alistair's intent stare. She looked back as far as she could and Zevran obligingly pushed himself up to claim her lips. His tongue caressed and stroked and invaded carefully, as his fingers left her nipple and began to stroke down her side, along the strangely shiny skin of her belly.

Elissa gasped and tore her mouth from his when he hit a ticklish spot, and so he turned his attention to her ear instead, nibbling and sucking, his tongue stroking the rim, delving inside the shell. Elissa gave a low hum of pleasure, thinking she would very much like to lavish her own attention upon Zevran's beautiful, elegant, pointed ears if not for the fact that it was so pleasant simply to lie there and let him do all the work.

Which, if the pressure against her backside was any indication, he was more than happy to do.

She rolled backward slightly, not completely upon her back—a position which now made her legs go numb quite quickly—but enough so that Zevran had access to more of the front of her body. Zevran took the pillow upon which she had been lying and positioned it behind her, allowing her to lie partly on her back but rolled slightly up on her side without having to support her own weight.

The position allowed Zevran's hand to circumnavigate the mound of her belly and delve with familiar ease between her legs, which parted for him with almost greedy eagerness.

But it was Alistair's face her gaze returned to despite her best efforts to keep her attention upon Zevran. He'd unlaced the collar of his tunic, and his brow glistened. Admittedly, the room was quite warm, but the way his breath hitched as he avidly watched Zevran's fingers began to trace a delicate circle around her bud told another story entirely.

Maker's breath, she'd known that watching was a pleasure, but how had she never understood just how intensely erotic it could be to be watched by her lover? She bit her lip, mewling and pushing her cunt more firmly against Zevran's hand. In response, Alistair's own had dropped to the crotch of his breeches. His fingers curled gently as he stroked himself almost unthinkingly.

"Oh, Andraste's mercy," Elissa breathed, the knowledge of how deeply he was enjoying this almost too powerfully sensual to bear. When Zevran's fingers dipped inside her and curled, Elissa gave a needy moan, feeling herself almost teetering on the brink of rapture.

"Your fellow Warden," Zevran's voice purred in her ear, casually, as though his fingers weren't fucking her fast and hard, "he looks as though he may have a great deal to offer."

Her eyes quickly darted to Alistair's face, away from the bulge beneath his breeches he was rubbing, to read whether or not he was alarmed by Zevran's observation. He gave no indication he heard, except perhaps for the opening of his hand to cup himself. His gaze was transfixed on Zevran's fingers plunging in and out of her cunt.

"Yes," she finally managed to gasp, her hands gripping the bedding. "A very great deal to offer."

"Ah, indeed?" Zevran asked with a lascivious laugh. "You are a lucky girl, yes?"

"You have no idea," she sighed, bucking against his hand.

"And how does he taste, hmm?" Zevran pressed. Again, her eyes flew to Alistair's face, and this time he met her gaze.

"Quit looking at me as though you're worried that I'm not all right and just enjoy yourself," he practically growled. "Answer his question."

"He tastes divine," Elissa gasped, trembling as her impending climax gathered.

That got a reaction from Alistair. He licked his lips.

At that same moment, Zevran's wet fingers returned to her clit and rubbed firmly, and Elissa was lost, crying out her pleasure, her eyes clenched shut as red light flared behind her eyelids.

Zevran extended his glistening fingers to Alistair. "Would you care for a taste, my friend?"

Elissa waited, breathless and gasping with the last trembling shocks of her orgasm, for Alistair to decide his boundaries had been breached. Instead, he grabbed Zevran's wrist roughly and licked the fluids from the assassin's fingers, drawing them into his mouth to claim the last drops.

She could feel the response of Zevran's body against her back, and that awoke a whole new wave of arousal that didn't seem to care that she had just been skillfully pleasured. She pressed back into Zevran as Alistair released his hand. Alistair loosened the laces on his breeches before returning to his chair.

Before Elissa could decide what she wished to do next, Zevran was sliding down the bed. He lifted her leg and guided it over his head so that with very little effort, he was positioned with his head between her legs.

"My dear Warden," he said, placing a kiss upon her thigh, "I do not want you to think any thoughts of exerting yourself or reciprocation. Tonight, my pleasure exists simply in pleasuring you, yes?"

Elissa couldn't do much beyond nod, and then his tongue and lips were upon her. She was overstimulated, but Zevran was gentle and soothing, not trying to arouse her further, but merely relaxing her. It was a massage of an entirely different sort, really, and she let herself drift with it.

Gradually, her oversensitivity faded and pleasure began to bloom again. Soft sighs gave way to longer moans and hums. When Zevran's tongue thrust deep inside and began to fuck her, her hips began to jerk, seeking more.

Still, she felt restless and discontented, no longer satisfied with passive pleasure. Gradually her hand curled in Zevran's hair and tugged him gently away.

"Inside me," she said told him when he lifted his head to meet her eyes. "That's where I want you."

"Ah, but that is not what we agreed to," he said, moving away from her.

"It is if that is what will please me," she answered with a bit more spirit than she'd been feeling lately. Alistair was still watching raptly and she realized that what she really wanted was to give him a show worth watching. Pushing herself up and delighted to discover it did not hurt to move, she rose to her hands and knees sideways across the bed, facing Alistair. She gathered a pillow beneath her chest to clutch and rest upon if her arms wearied of supporting her weight.

"Fuck me, Zevran," she demanded shamelessly, caution discarded, wriggling her backside invitingly.

Zevran did not need to be told twice. He knelt between her legs and soon she felt him prodding at her entrance. Her eyes locked with Alistair's as he watched, his fingers slowly wriggling inside his breeches. Zevran guided himself between her folds, and when the first firm thrust that drove him home pushed her forward, Alistair's hips lifted from the chair in response. She saw motion beneath the fabric of his breeches as his hand clenched.

Careful of her comfort, Zevran moved slowly at first, but with her attention upon Alistair, Elissa was having none of it. She wanted him to see her getting fucked, wildly and unrestrained, and so she gasped, "Harder!"

Zevran was happy to oblige. Hiis cock angled skillfully for that spot just inside her and each time it stroked she cried out, her mouth open and gasping. She sank down so that she rested on her elbows, hugging the pillow beneath her, letting her chest rest upon it so that her back arched and her hips tilted to make the angle of penetration even deeper and more exquisite.

Soon she forgot to watch Alistair's reactions. She closed her eyes and let herself be rocked and shaken by Zevran's thrusts, his hips slapping against hers, her moans of pleasure an almost constant chorus filling the room. But then she felt movement directly in front of her and opened her eyes to see that Alistair was kneeling by the bed. He'd stripped off his tunic. His skin was dappled with sweat, and his attention was on her face, watching as though he would memorize the sight of her in her passion.

She felt his eyes upon her like a physical touch as the pressure began to build within her, and when Zevran's hand reached beneath her to located her clit, she was screaming and growling, a feral, uncontrolled thing, beyond shame or fear or self-consciousness. All that mattered was the pleasure of Zevran fucking her, and the man she loved before her watching as she clenched and spasmed around Zevran's cock.

When awareness returned, Zevran had slowed his pace, waiting to ascertain that all was still well with the both of them. And there was Alistair's face before her, his eyes full of hunger and wonder. She reached for him, let him take the weight she had been bearing on her elbows upon his own body, and then he was kissing her.

Zevran gave an experimentally hard thrust and Elissa groaned into Alistair’s mouth in response. She was weary, so weary she didn't think she would come again, but even without the possibility of another orgasm, it still felt marvelous to have Zevran moving inside her.

"Hold her, my friend," Zevran instructed, and Alistair moved closer, took her more fully into his arms. Elissa clung to him, let him support her as Zevran's hands tightened on her hips. "Are you still doing well, my sweet Warden?"

"Yes," she sighed against Alistair's shoulder. "Don't stop. It feels good."

"Do it, Zev," Alistair said, and somewhere in the back of her consciousness it occurred to her that she had never before heard Alistair address Zevran informally.

"Do what, my friend?" Zevran asked teasingly, giving another single thrust hard enough to jolt her and drive her against Alistair.

"Fuck her. Hard."

Elissa almost wailed in pleasure as Zevran obeyed, giving over the last of his caution and plunging into her with abandon. Her fingers scrabbled across Alistair's tautly muscled back, seeking purchase, scratching and gouging. She bit his shoulder and cried out, for it was too much. Too much sensation, too good to be borne. She hadn't thought she had another climax within her, but when she realized it was Alistair's fingers seeking her nub this time, Alistair rubbing her to completion while Zevran fucked her at such a demanding pace, she gave herself over to it and one last gentle ripple of pleasure chased through her.

Zevran followed soon thereafter, and she was weary enough that it was almost a relief. Zevran paused only a moment, slumped over her while he caught his breath, and then his hands and Alistair's were working together to ease Elissa back onto the bed and arrange her comfortably. She felt boneless and exhausted, and though her hand sought out the bulge in Alistair's breeches—aware that he had not found his release—there was no real strength in the gesture.

"Maker's breath, you smell like her," Alistair muttered, and Elissa looked up to see that their joint efforts to see to her comfort had brought him and Zevran in close proximity as they hovered above her. With her fluids dried all over his smooth face, Elissa had no doubt Zevran did indeed smell strongly of her.

Knowing quite well that she was possibly pushing things beyond the breaking point, but too exhausted to resist her own impulse, Elissa murmured, "He tastes of me, too."

Alistair's eyes dropped to her, uncertain, and Zevran's smooth, self-satisfied voice filled the waiting silence. "I think your lady would like you to have another taste, my friend. I will be more than pleased to share, yes?"

Alistair's breath quickened, but still he sat there frozen with indecision. His lap was close enough that Elissa could see just how urgent his need was, and that it wasn't even remotely diminished by the turn events had taken.

Waiting. Still waiting. The longer they waited, the more Elissa feared Alistair would back down, would retreat behind his boundaries. She shouldn't have said anything, shouldn't have pushed this, not when Alistair was finding his way to coming to terms with his desires so beautifully on his own.

Perhaps the hesitation meant this wasn't his desire at all. It was unfair of her to try to force her own desires upon him. It would be disastrous if he acted only because she and Zevran seemed to wish it. Still, it was done, and all she could do was wait to see how matters would play out.

Zevran, however, was apparently done with waiting for Alistair's ambivalence to resolve itself, and pushed himself across her toward Alistair, pressing his lips to Alistair's.

Alistair froze, and Elissa waited breathlessly for him to push Zevran away. He shuddered and his hands went to Zevran's shoulders... and then his tongue darted out to swipe at Zevran's lip and taste her there.

Another tension-filled moment passed, and then Alistair's hands snapped shut on Zevran's shoulders, jerking him in closer. Over Elissa's body, they grappled and pulled and strained against one another. It was primal and raw and unlike any kiss Elissa had ever witnessed, filled with masculine power and aggression.

It was magnificent.

Elissa whimpered when Alistair's mouth left Zevran's to close upon his chin, licking and sucking the essence of her off Zevran's smooth skin. Zevran carefully navigated his way over Elissa's body so that he knelt upon the bed before Alistair, directly in front of her. When Zevran's hand stroked down Alistair's body, heading for the erection straining within his partially-laced breeches, it was Elissa who stopped him, grabbing his wrist.

Zevran broke away from Alistair's mouth to ask, "Is there a problem, Warden?"

"We will not push him into anything he doesn't wish for," she said firmly. Alistair's eyes were glazed and desperate with desire as he watched the exchange.

"It's all right, Elissa," he panted, his voice rough.

"I would hear it from you," she murmured, reaching up to stroke his face. "If you allow something not because you wish it, but because I do, or even Zevran does, then it can only result in resentment and I could not bear that. Say the word and Zevran will leave now and we never need to speak of this again."

"You told me you wanted—"

Her fingers touched his lips, silencing him. "It doesn't matter what I want."

"But—"

"No. This must be your desire, not mine."

"I don't even know what this is," he said, unconsciously echoing her own question from earlier. His eyes traveled to Zevran when he said it.

"She has had her pleasure," Zevran explained, "and I have had mine. She is exhausted and needs to rest, but I should hate to leave you neglected."

"I don't need pity," Alistair said tightly. "If that's the issue, I'm able to take care of it well enough on my own."

"It is not pity, my friend. It sets a bad precedent, you see, to leave a bed with someone yet unsatisfied." Zevran grinned. "A man can get a reputation for that sort of thing, yes?"

Elissa groaned crossly. "Oh, honestly, Zevran!"

"Very well, then I shall be serious if you insist," Zevran sighed. "I am offering to pleasure you, nothing more. I make the offer because it would please me to taste you. I shall not be offended if you refuse, or if you agree and then decide at any point later that you do not wish to proceed."

Alistair closed his eyes, his hands clenching into fists on his thighs. His arousal had still not abated, but....

"I think perhaps you should go, Zevran," Elissa said gently, intent on sparing Alistair the ordeal of deciding.

"As you wish," Zevran acknowledged with a small bow of his head, and began to push himself off the bed. He and Elissa both jumped when Alistair's hand shot out and caught Zevran's arm.

"No." His eyes opened and he looked down at Elissa, his jaw tensed. "I decide what is best for me, right?"

"Of course," she nodded. "I'm sorry. I ought not have spoken for you."

"You know, I keep remembering something you said to me a while back, about how once you cross enough lines, the rest don't seem to matter anymore.” He paused thoughtfully. “Should they matter?"

"I suppose that depends on you," she answered, caressing her hand down his arm. "My own philosophy has always been not to limit myself so long as I'm not harming anyone else. But yours may differ. Do the lines make you happy? Do they give you definition and help inform who you are? Or do they simply bind you and keep you away from what's on the other side, yearning but never having?"

"I don't know." Alistair shook his head in wonder. "But I'm curious to see what's on the other side. And I'm having a hard time remembering why it never seemed like a good idea to find out before."

"Then what is your desire?"

Alistair drew a shaky breath. "I... would like to accept your offer, Zevran," he said slowly. "But I'm not sure... what I can bring myself to do."

"Ah, you Wardens!" Zevran snapped, discarding his good-natured facade in what was clearly a fit of frustration. "You seem to have a great deal of trouble being passive. It makes it most difficult to offer you the gift of pleasure with no expectation of reciprocation, and that has been my desire this night."

Elissa drew in a breath, surprised. "I'm sorry, Zevran. I didn't understand what your wish was."

"You know very well how intoxicating it can be, simply to pleasure another, to have her—or him—at your mercy. Not for favors in return, but simply for its own sake. That, my dear Warden, was the game I wished to play tonight, but you were not playing by the rules."

"You're right," Elissa nodded. "I wasn't paying attention when you told me what you wanted."

"Well, then, now I have another chance, yes?" he said brightly, nodding to Alistair. "Let me be clear. You need not feel obliged to do anything. If I offer to pleasure you, it is because it would please me to do so, not because I have any other expectations. Aside from the occasional bit of playacting, I do not find forcing my attentions on another—or forcing another to give their attentions to me—to be particularly rewarding. Simply allow yourself to enjoy it. If," Zevran's grin turned decidedly wicked, "after I have my way with you, you decide at another date you wish to try something else, well, that may be discussed then."

"All right." Alistair nodded. "I can do that. I think."

"Then settle back and relax. You may stop me at any time you wish."

Elissa sat up and moved to the far side of the bed to make more room for Alistair. There she sat, trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible, so that she would not influence Alistair's actions with her own desires. Alistair pulled his legs up onto the bed and sat indecisively for a moment before he finally made himself lean back, half-reclining against the headboard. His attention was on Zevran as the naked elf crawled up the bed toward him, all feline grace and smoldering sensuality.

He leaned over Alistair and murmured, "Now, I believe you were tasting your lady-love on my lips, no? Would you like to continue?"

This time it was Alistair who closed the distance between his own mouth and Zevran's, almost eagerly, as though Zevran's words gave him the excuse he needed to overcome his hesitation. His hands came up to rest on Zevran's ribs just above his waist and Zevran twined his arms about Alistair's shoulders.

Elissa gasped softly, for the sight of their skin pressed together, one dark and one pale, one slender and sleek and one broad and bulging, was so much lovelier than she could ever have imagined. Slowly, Alistair relaxed beneath Zevran’s kiss and when he did, Zevran moved down to nibble at his throat.

Alistair let his head fall back, his mouth open and panting, as Zevran explored his neck and moved down to his shoulders, licking and sucking. His teeth sank gently into Alistair's neck and drew a groan from him in response.

Alistair's face was beautiful as he surrendered himself to sensation, the anxiety and uncertainty melting away beneath Zevran's skillful fingers and lips. Strangely, however, beneath her own enjoyment of the spectacle Elissa felt a small tingle of discontent and realized with a start of surprise that it was jealousy. She had thought herself too licentious for the emotion, but the sight of Alistair being pleasured by another awoke her possessive instincts. Until now, his body had only been hers, and after this, that would never be true again. All she had ever imagined from such a scenario was pleasure at seeing her love lost to rapture; she hadn't expected this tiny thread of conflict.

She pushed it aside; this was the fantasy she had cherished for far too long, and she would not spoil it with something as ugly as jealousy. Instead, she would cherish the beauty and wonder of seeing these two lovely men together—one her beloved and the other her friend—taking pleasure in one another. It was living art, and one did not get jealous over art.

Alistair gasped when Zevran's hand slid between his thighs to cup his erection, and Zevran murmured something soothing in Antivan as his lips closed over Alistair's nipple. It was a long moment until Alistair relaxed again, but then his back arched and with a push of his hips he ground himself more firmly into Zevran's stroking palm.

"Would you like more?" Zevran murmured.

"Sweet Andraste, yes," Alistair groaned in response, and Elissa saw Zevran's lips curve into a smile against Alistair's nipple.

Alistair did not resist when Zevran's nimble fingers made short work of the already half-undone laces of his breeches. Instead, he cooperatively lifted his hips and let Zevran slide them down his thighs, and his smallclothes as well.

Zevran licked his lips at the sight of Alistair's cock, thrusting forth and looking almost painfully engorged, but he did not touch it right away. Instead, he kissed Alistair again, stroking his hands soothingly up and down Alistair's ribs until the tension that had crept through Alistair's body again began to drain away, leaving him relaxed and pliant beneath Zevran's caresses.

That tension came back when Zevran's hand closed around Alistair's cock and stroked slowly upon and down, but once again Zevran soothed it away, not pushing any further until Alistair was relaxed once more. And then he worked his way down, kissing and licking across the rippling muscles of Alistair's chest and abdomen.

Maker, the sound Alistair made when finally, finally Zevran's lips closed around his cock! Low and needy, confused and yearning all at once. She'd taken Alistair into her mouth more times than she could count, but she didn't remember him ever sounding quite like that, except perhaps the first time. The noise drowned out Elissa's own longing sigh.

Unable to stop himself, Alistair gave a small upward thrust, but Zevran merely pulled back and waited for him to settle. His hands soothed along Alistair's thighs in long, comforting strokes, guiding him to relaxation and compliance.

Elissa wasn't sure which she wanted to watch more, Alistair's face or the work of Zevran's mouth upon his cock, for they were each gorgeous in their own ways. She barely breathed as Zevran's head bobbed up and down, his lips and tongue working. When he plunged all the way down and took Alistair deep into his throat, her own throat tightened sympathetically. She forgot any hint of possessiveness she might have felt, lost in the sheer beauty of what she was seeing.

It did not last long; Alistair had been too aroused for too long while he watched Zevran pleasure Elissa, and no doubt the new and unfamiliar knowledge that it was Zevran's mouth on his cock wasn't helping his self-control any. Soon he was moaning desperately and his hips wriggled and pumped involuntarily. He had the presence of mind not to grab Zevran's head or try to force him, but his fingers did dig into Zevran's shoulders roughly.

Alistair licked his lips and muttered a soft curse, and his eyes opened and sought Elissa's. She had no idea what he found there upon her face, but whatever it was, it spelled the end for his control. His eyes snapped shut and his head fell back. His face contorted with pleasure.

"Dear Maker," he groaned, and thrust into Zevran's mouth, shuddering hard.

Afterward, he collapsed limply against the headboard and a moment later, Zevran lifted his head, licking his lips with a satisfied smirk.

"Ah, now that was what I wanted! Thank you, my friend."

Elissa was in motion before she even knew she intended to act, crawling to Zevran and claiming his lips demandingly, licking the last traces of Alistair's seed from the inside of his mouth. Zevran, ever generous, happily shared and they both moaned in contentment.

When the kiss broke, she looked over at Alistair who was still panting and slumped against the bed. His eyes were open, watching her. Smiling, she went to him, kissed him tenderly, sank into his arms.

True to his word, Zevran didn't seem interested in pursuing the situation any further. He was casual and relaxed, his cock was only half-hard as he rose from the bed and sought out his clothing, dressing with a pleased smile on his face.

"Thank you, Zevran," Elissa murmured, and Alistair gave a hum of agreement, still dazed and replete.

"Ah, it was my very great pleasure, my sweet Warden. I thank you both for the enjoyable evening. Should you ever require my talents again—in massage or in any other way—they will be yours, yes?"

"I appreciate the offer," Alistair finally managed to speak. "Thank you. We'll have to see."

"As you say," Zevran nodded and let himself out of their room.

Weariness began to take hold once more now that the excitement was done, and Elissa was content merely to snuggle against Alistair. She turned her back to him, and soon he curled up behind her. As had become his habit, his hand came to rest on her belly to share in feeling the thumps and jolts of the babe moving within her.

It was a very peaceful moment, and she knew sleep would come quickly. Still, she felt compelled to ask, "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I think I am," Alistair sighed. "I don't think that's something I necessarily want often, but it was... pleasant."

"No regrets about crossing that line, then?" she asked.

"No, none." He sounded slightly surprised by the admission.

"Have I ever told you how brave you are?" she said, kissing his chest. "I feel like I've asked you to make so many changes, look at things in ways you never wanted to look at them. Perhaps it wasn't fair or right of me to ask that, but you've risen to every challenge."

"It's helped me to stop feeling so afraid and unsure all the time," he replied, his lips brushing her hair. "I'm not the same man I was when I met you, and that's a good thing."

"I'm glad you think so." Elissa felt tears burn her eyes and blinked them impatiently away. "Just... don't let me push you into changing into someone you don't want to be. Please?"

"I won't, if you'll promise the same."

"Happily," she whispered, closing her eyes and letting sleep begin to overtake her. "Happily."


(Feedback always appreciated)