Reverse-Cowgirl Diplomacy

The First Day festival was the first extravagant event to be held at court since Alistair's coronation. Elissa wasn't entirely happy with it, considering how lean the winter was proving to be across the Bannorn, but there was something to be said for projecting an image of well-being for the morale of the people. If they saw the royal court celebrating First Day joyfully, perhaps they would have hope that the harsh winter would end and the spring would bring new life to their lands.

In some ways, the festival was actually overwhelming for her, for she had never attended such functions before. To not only be attending her first court festival but to be presiding over it was quite intimidating, but she'd fortunately been trained well for such functions.

The same could not be said of Alistair. Once he learned there would be dancing, he'd nearly panicked over his lack of training in courtly comportment. Had Fergus not been in Highever she would have called upon him for help, but instead she had only Zevran with whom she could demonstrate for Alistair the steps and forms of the dances he would be expected to know. Fortunately, he proved a competent student, and while he would never be a great dancer, he mastered the forms well enough that he could fulfill his obligation to partner Elissa in the first dance of the ball, after which no one would think to criticize him for sitting with his ale and watching the festivities while Elissa took on the responsibility of entertaining the nobles.

Which she did merrily, resplendent in her golden gown with its wide crimson stomacher displaying her restored figure to full advantage. She used the excuse of still nursing Ella to affect a lower-cut bodice that revealed a generous hint of her ample breasts. She felt young and beautiful and delightfully alive, charming her way through one dance partner after another. It didn't matter how old or curmudgeonly they might be, if they were gallant enough to request her hand, she granted it and flirted through the set with them until she drew a smile from even the most taciturn face.

How different she felt from just weeks ago, when she'd been afraid even to laugh too boisterously for fear of being thought wanton!

Through it all, her eyes would find their way to Alistair's, and he watched her raptly, his golden eyes sometimes darkening with jealousy if her partner was too handsome. That possessive gleam promised fun of an entirely different sort when the revelry was over for the night. Nonetheless, it seemed his pleasure was in watching her as he conversed easily with the noblemen who approached him, and her enjoyment of the evening was made even greater by the knowledge that he was entertained as well.

If there was one thing that dampened her spirits it was Fergus. Since his return from Highever a few days prior to the festival, he'd been dispirited. Unfortunately, Elissa had not had time in the preparations to discuss the situation at Highever with him, and until the night of the festival she hadn’t noticed his melancholy. Though he began the evening attempting to be cheerful, his efforts quickly faltered. He danced the first two sets only; the first with Bann Alfstanna, and the second with Elissa herself. After that, he stood by looking ever more morose with each tankard of ale he sipped.

As Elissa watched, Alfstanna approached Fergus with an inviting smile. Though Elissa could not hear them speak, she saw Alfstanna's hand slide up Fergus's arm, caressing warmly. Whatever it was the bann said to him—and Elissa would have wagered it was an invitation to her bed that night—Fergus declined with a shake of his head and a sad smile, and Alfstanna walked away looking confused and put out.

By the time Elissa was able to detach herself from her partner, Fergus was gone. Making her excuses to Teagan, to whom she had promised the next set, she returned to Alistair's side, sitting in the ornately carved, velvet-upholstered chair beside him. Overheated from dancing and the press of so many bodies, she gratefully accepted a goblet of wine and drank deeply.

"It's well past midnight, husband," she said formally for the benefit of anyone listening, "and I find I am quite fatigued. I need to speak with my brother about something, and then I think I shall retire."

"That sounds like an excellent notion," Alistair said, a bit more eagerly than was perhaps proper. Nonetheless, she took his arm as he stood and offered it and wishing their guests a joyous First Day, left the garlanded festal hall.

Alistair escorted her to the wing of the palace occupied by the family quarters and as they walked, Elissa quietly explained her concerns for Fergus. Her brother was to stay in the palace overnight rather than returning to Cousland Manor so late, and so she promised to meet Alistair in his chambers after seeing to Fergus and walked away.

Fergus opened the door at her soft call, already changed out of his satin doublet into a loose linen shirt he'd not even managed yet to lace. He clutched another tankard of ale in his hand and bid her enter.

"You left the ball early," Elissa noted without preamble. "I'm worried for you, brother."

"I'm worried for myself," Fergus said bitterly, draining his tankard when she refused his offer to share it.

"Were conditions at Highever so very terrible, then?"

"The castle was a shambles. Howe's men seemed more intent on destroying than actually occupying the place. And no one could tell me what became of their bodies." His voice was hollow and aching. "As near as we can figure, Howe's men disposed of them all on one mass pyre. Mother and Father and Oriana and Oren, burned alongside the stableboy and the kennelmaster, with no more ceremony than the lowest kitchen elf."

Tears burned Elissa's eyes. "Oh, Maker, Fergus...."

"It's been nearly a year since I learned they were dead, pup," he said, his voice breaking. "But somehow it all seems fresh."

"Is that why you refused Alfstanna?"

"Yes. That, and Howe. After what he did to me, the months of pain and humiliation...." Fergus shook his head. "She wants me to be her lover again. And that should be perfect; she has no interest in marriage and neither do I at present. But I can't seem to find any desire. Not for her, not for anyone. I went to the Pearl the other night and even there I just couldn't muster any interest."

"Brother, I'm so sorry," Elissa murmured, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him. He stood there trembling with emotion for a moment, and then he hugged her back, his arms encircling her as she rested her cheek on his shoulder and held him.

They stood there together for a long, silent moment, comforting and being comforted. But, perhaps inevitably, Elissa's mind traveled back to the last time she held him like this, the day he left for Ostagar. She'd gone to his chambers to wish him farewell, and she and Oriana had pleasured him together. Strange, perhaps, to think it, but in all ways except one, Fergus had been her first lover. Her father had taught her many things about pleasing men and male responses, but he had always been her teacher. It was Fergus to whom she had turned for comfort and pleasure as she had blossomed into womanhood.

In that instant of memory, it was there, that frisson of awareness and hunger. She tensed with it, on the brink of pulling away, but before she did, she felt against her stomach the incontrovertible proof that he had shared the memory, and perhaps the impulse that accompanied it.

Without thinking she drew him down to her. "Fergus...."

He tasted of ale and home. Alistair had become home, too, but not like this, not a home filled with a lifetime of memories of loved ones and shared joys and sorrows. Even with Alistair there was not this familiarity, this understanding. She buried her hands in his soft chestnut hair and opened to his tongue, pressing against him as his hands spread across her back and pulled her in closer.

It was a long moment before he drew back, trembling. "Maker, Elissa," he breathed. "The first woman I respond to in months and it has to be you."

She kissed his brow, his cheek, the line of his jaw before resting her face in the crook of his neck. "Of course it is," she sighed. "We're Couslands."

"We can't," he said softly, rubbing his face against her hair. "We're not back in Highever anymore. You're the queen now."

"We never had the chance to mourn together," she murmured, unable to relinquish her hold upon him. "Never had the chance to comfort each other."

Fergus gave a long, slow sigh. "I know. I suppose it's inevitable we would find ourselves here."

He kissed her again before she could respond, harder, more urgently, and she pressed wantonly against him, answering his need, letting his thigh slide between hers as they yearned closer to one another. When he pulled away again, he was shaking. "We can't."

Strangely, she felt no unease, no fear. "I must speak with Alistair," she said calmly. "Stay here at the palace one more night. I’ill come to you tomorrow."

"Elissa...."

She shushed him, laying her fingers upon his lips. He took her hand into both of his and pressed a kiss into her palm, bringing her wrist to his face to breathe in her scent. "I will come to you," she said again, and drew away, leaving his room.

---

Alistair was calmer than she had imagined he would be when Elissa told him what had happened, after she had stopped by her own bedchamber to change out of her gown and check in on Ella, asleep in her cradle in Hortense's small room off the queen's suite. He'd been calm when she had confessed what had transpired with Riordan as well, but then they had both been recovering from the battle with the archdemon and there hadn't seemed to be enough energy for a more animated reaction, especially given the terrible certainty of death that had hovered over them all as Grey Wardens. Now however....

She wasn't sure exactly how she had expected him to react. That he was startled was apparent in the way his face lost some color, making the flush of the evening's ale stand out brightly on his cheeks, but though his mouth tightened, he said nothing until Elissa had finished speaking. Then he sat down upon the bed in nothing but his braies and ran a hand through his hair.

"I... I knew this would come up, sooner or later," he finally said, speaking slowly and choosing his words carefully. "I admit, I thought it would be Zevran, or maybe Teagan or, Maker, just about anyone else, really."

Elissa sat there silently, clutching her warm dressing gown about her and watching him as thoughts and emotions crossed his face too rapidly to be read. He had wanted all of her back, the true her, the essential her. Now came the moment for him to decide if he could be reconciled with all that meant.

"Why?" he asked after a long moment.

"We're Couslands," she answered softly. From the clenching of his jaw she knew he wouldn't be satisfied with that, and yet she struggled to explain it any more thoroughly. "This is what we are, Alistair. This is what we do. We turn to sex for comfort, for security, to grieve and to celebrate. Honestly, perhaps it's the only fitting way that we could mourn the loss of those we loved."

She rose from her chair and crossed to him, kneeling before him and taking his hands in hers. His palms were sweating.

"As you missed me when I was having difficulty finding myself again, I miss my brother," she said. "He's not the man he was. He's lost so much, endured so much. What I suffered at Loghain's hands in a single day is nothing to what he went through in Howe's dungeons for months on end. There's so little joy left in him, my love. I want my brother back. Perhaps I can help him find himself again, as you helped me."

Alistair lifted one hand to caress her hair as she laid her head upon his knees and closed her eyes with a sigh.

"No."

He spoke the word so softly that at first she didn't hear it over the crackling of the fire in the hearth. Then she lifted her head and stared at him in disbelief.

"No," he said again, more firmly this time. Elissa's heart sank. She had always feared this would happen, that Alistair would not find his capacity for tolerance to be what they had hoped it was. What sort of future would they have together, if this became a point of contention between them? He'd come so far in accepting the licentious side of her; perhaps she was being unreasonable to expect that he could go any further than he already had.

"Alistair, I—"

He cut her off with a shake of his head. "Let me finish. I've never asked you to be anyone other than who you are, love, and I knew long ago just what that might entail. But there has to be a limit, Elissa. There just has to be. And so I'm setting it here. Consider it a royal decree, if you want to. The limit is this: you can have your debaucheries, but they will happen here, in my bed, and nowhere else."

She blinked at him, stunned. "I'm... I'm not sure exactly what it is you're saying."

"I'm saying," Alistair grabbed her under the arms and dragged her up onto the bed, pushing her onto her back and pulling open her dressing gown. His mouth was rough against her breasts. "You'll summon Fergus here tomorrow. If you're going to fuck your brother, you'll do it in my bed."

Fuck your brother....

Perhaps hearing it put so bluntly should have appalled her, made her shrink from what she had proposed to do. Perhaps it should have made her feel wrong and wicked. It didn't. Instead, it thrilled and aroused that core of perversity deep within her. Moments later she came screaming under Alistair's mouth, with the images his word had evoked in her mind.

---

Fergus was gone from the palace the next day, and she feared he may have left to avoid encountering her, but his clothing and manservant were still in his rooms at the palace when she went to inform her brother of Alistair's decree, and so she was assured of his intent to return. He had not run away.

Unable to deliver her message in person, she left with Fergus's manservant a sealed missive. Mindful of the need for discretion, she worded it carefully.

Brother,

You are summoned to an audience in the king's chambers this evening after the king retires to confer on the the family matter we touched upon when last we spoke.

After that, all that remained was to wait. Court was quiet that day; there was little business or politicking being conducted with most of Denerim abed and hungover. She spent the day tending to Ella, still unwilling to turn her daughter over to Hortense's care completely, despite the expectations that she should do just that.

Underneath it all, however, was a glorious tension that simmered within her. There was something delicious, she mused, about an assignation intended but not yet actualized, about the way anticipation made even mundane events throughout the day more significant as they brought to mind what would happen come nightfall. It seemed so many of her encounters had been spur-of-the-moment affairs; this was a pleasant, if sometimes maddening, change of pace.

Tonight, she would fuck her brother.

It shouldn't have seemed as strange to her as it did. After all, she'd been with him in so many other ways. She'd tasted his seed, felt his hands upon her budding breasts and his cock hard along her spine as she writhed beneath Oriana's delicate and skilled mouth.

She remembered a day when she had just turned fifteen, not long after she had finally been allowed to begin practicing some of her new skills with her mother and father and the very select handful of discreet retainers that knew the Couslands’ secrets. In the wake of this new freedom, her months-long flirtation with Ser Gilmore had nearly resulted in an unintended tumble in the stables. Rory had been furious with her when she denied him, and she'd fled to Fergus and Oriana for the first time, weeping with fear and frustration.

Oriana had held her comfortingly, kissed her tenderly while Fergus had pushed back her skirts and removed her smallclothes. It did not occur to her to worry that her brother might forget himself and do more than he ought, or perhaps by that point she had simply become so weary of only her own touch for pleasure that she didn't care. But she'd watched from Oriana's arms with utter and implicit trust as Fergus's tongue darted out to taste her, the first man to ever do so.

Delicately, so very delicately, he pushed her folds apart with his thumbs and his tongue caressed the barrier of her maidenhead. He praised her, then, with his mouth against her cunt, for her courage and sacrifice in forestalling her own desires for the advancement of their family, and told her what a beautiful queen she would be someday. He'd placed kisses upon the lips of her cunt, long kisses with slow, sensual sweeps of his tongue. When he found her nub and sucked upon it, she came bucking against him, her hands clutching soft hair that was the same color as her own.

Her brother.

No, the idea of fucking him shouldn't have seemed strange to her at all, and yet it did. And so she forced herself to sit with it, to accept it. She made herself embrace once more the perversity that had once seemed so natural and inherent to her but which was now so foreign.

They were Couslands, and she would fuck her brother.

Where Alistair fit into that equation, she couldn't quite be certain. Did he intend to ignore them, as best he could? Did he intend to watch? Would he take pleasure in it as he had with Zevran, or would this be the act which finally disgusted him?

Then she thought about his recent proposal that they invite Zevran to join them sometime, and wondered if he might actually participate. Maker's breath! That thought had her in a constant state of arousal throughout the day, her smallclothes so wet that they began to chafe after a while.

Fergus was not in the dining hall during supper, which was a relief, for Elissa wasn't certain she could have looked at him and kept her composure. Alistair was there with her, however, at the high table, acting casually, as if nothing at all unusual was to take place after they retired. She had thought she might find him imbibing a bit more heavily than usual, but he barely touched his wine, while she refilled her own goblet at least twice. She cursed herself for being so off-balance. It wasn't like her to be so unsettled in the face of sex. How could Alistair, of all people, be so sanguine while she felt like she was going to come out of her skin?

After supper there were minstrels and cards and games, with the usual rounds of courtiers coming to discuss problems, update Alistair on the status of affairs in their bannorns, or to request favors. Elissa thought she might scream with impatience, and finally begged Alistair to give her leave to retire, which he did with a small smile. As she rose, he drew her hand to his lips and kissed it gallantly—he really was getting damnably good at affecting courtly manners—and then used his hold upon it to pull her down until she bent low. His words were barely a whisper in her ear.

"Dismiss your maids and all the servants. Leave your gown on until I arrive. I'll undress you tonight."

Her body tightened, shuddered, and Elissa realized she was on the brink of climax on the power of nothing more than anticipation and his words.

She could not even nurse Ella that night, unable to sit still long enough to perform that normally peaceful task. Giving up the effort, she kissed the babe and handed her to Hortense, and informed her maids that they would not be needed that evening. Then she made her way to Alistair's suite with her heart hammering in her chest. She passed through the outer sitting room where she and Alistair sometimes dined privately if they didn't wish to have supper with the rest of the court, through the wardrobe where Alistair's attendants dressed and undressed him each day, and into the solar, with the massive, heavily curtained bed large enough to sleep four or five people and the comfortable chairs before the large hearth.

Never before had it occurred to her to wonder if sounds of pleasure could travel through the thick stone walls and heavy oaken doors of three rooms to reach the guards out in the corridor, Elissa thought nervously as she informed Alistair's attendants that they would not be needed that evening. But no, surely she was being paranoid. Just one of those thick wooden doors would be enough to dampen all but the loudest noises.

In addition, the changing of the guard at midnight would create some confusion as to how long this "family conference" had actually lasted. There would be no gossip in the barracks of the royal guard, even if the guardsmen were inclined to talk.

She wondered if Alistair had taken these details into consideration when he had issued his decree.

She paced nervously before the hearth, too fidgety to sit for long. Finally she heard Alistair enter the outer sitting room and pass through the wardrobe. His stride was casual as he came into the bedchamber. He took a long look at her and went immediately to the small table near the hearth and the flagon of wine that had been set out along with a loaf of crusty bread and a selection of cheeses before she had dismissed his servants. He poured the rich red brew into a golden chalice, but rather than quaffing it himself as she had expected, he offered it to her.

"You seem nervous, love," he observed.

"I confess I am," she sighed, accepting the wine. "And I'm rather astonished that you're so sanguine."

"I've had months to prepare myself for this," he shrugged, unfastening the toggles at the front of his doublet and stripping down to the linen undershirt beneath. He took a seat in one of the chairs before the hearth. "And then also, to be honest, I'm a little relieved to see you back to your old habits. Come here.”

Elissa went to him and allowed herself to be pulled down onto his lap. She curled up against him, taking comfort in his arms surrounding her. Laying her head upon his shoulder, she asked, "What is your intention tonight, Alistair?"

"I'm not entirely certain," he said after a pause, his eyes solemn and haunted for a moment. "You know, back at Redcliffe, before the battle with the archdemon, there was a perhaps an hour between the moment when Riordan told me one of us must die and Morrigan came to me with her offer. In that time I thought about all the things that we hadn't done together, all the things we might never do together.... I swore that if we both made it through alive, I would never let convention or prudery stand in the way of anything we decided to explore. I swore I would do anything, no matter how depraved I might have once believed it to be, if it meant one more night with you. That said, however,” he offered her a crooked smile, “I'm not quite as relaxed about this as I may put on, you know."

Touched by his admission, yet unwilling to let melancholy settle in and mar their mood, she giggled, wriggling her bottom on his lap. "Hmm, yes, I can tell."

"That's not what I'm referring to, you minx," he growled, nipping at her neck. "Don't think that I'm over my tendency to get jealous. The thought of you with another man—even your own brother—still drives me mad."

"Oh, but your jealousy provokes such delightful reactions," Elissa purred, shifting so that she straddled his lap. She pressed her bosom to his chest and draped her arms over his shoulders, kissing him lightly. After a moment, Alistair's hands grabbed her bottom rudely and his mouth opened, slanting hungrily across hers.

"I was right," he breathed some minutes later, kneading her buttocks and pushing his pelvis up against her as she undulated above him. "You are a minx."

His hands pulled at her skirts until he finally found his way underneath them, and his fingers delved between their bodies and inside her smallclothes. "Maker's breath, you're drenched!"

She twisted and whimpered when his fingertip found her clit a bit too directly. She was almost painfully sensitive after spending the entire day aroused. Her lips found his again as his finger stroked firmly along her wet slit, but he broke the kiss and commanded, "Smalls. Off. Now."

Smiling, she rose from his lap, discarded her slippers and slid her smallclothes down her legs. Then she curled up in his lap again, enjoying leisurely kisses as his hand once more crept up under her skirts and fingered her slowly, almost casually, not even for the sake of her own arousal or his, but just because she was there and she was his and he could.

She didn't mind. It was almost relaxing after spending the day taut as a bowstring with arousal.

Alistair grew very quiet and she felt him become tense, sighing as though he had something to say and wasn't sure how to say it. Just as she was about to inquire, he finally spoke.

"Fergus isn't a Grey Warden."

"Yes, I'm aware," Elissa said slowly.

His next words came out in a rush. "What I mean to say is, while not spectacularly high to begin with, your chances of getting caught with child are at least higher with someone who isn't a Grey Warden."

"Ah." She nodded, understanding what was troubling him. She swallowed hard. "I want this to be something beautiful and healing for Fergus, Alistair. I don't want to place restrictions or limitations upon it."

"I understand, but is it wise to take the chance? No one will question if you have a child who looks like a Cousland, of course, but what if—"

She cut him off, placing her hand over his mouth to still his words. "I'm still nursing Ella and my courses have not yet resumed. Alba has told me the signs to look for that my fertility may be returning and so far there have been none. Between that and my being a Grey Warden, I am as safe as a woman may be, I should imagine."

Alistair nodded. "All right, then. If you feel it's safe, I'll trust you."

"Thank you, my love."

They sat there silently until they heard the rap of the guard's fist upon the door to the outer chamber. Alistair seized Elissa when she would have risen from his lap and called loudly for Fergus to enter. It seemed to take forever for Fergus to make his way through the suite to the inner solar, but he did as Alistair bade and closed the doors in each successive room behind him.

"I was, ahem... summoned, Your Majesty?" Fergus said carefully when the door was closed securely behind him.

"Please," Alistair said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "There's wine on the table."

Elissa had thought Alistair was merely inviting Fergus to have a drink, but Fergus seemed to glean something else entirely from her husband's words. "As you wish, brother," he corrected with a nod.

It soon became apparent from Fergus's hesitation that she had worded her note poorly, for he stood stiffly, ill-at-ease and obviously expecting some sort of reproach for what had happened between them the night before and was now confused by the intimacy of the scene he entered upon.

"You may relax, Fergus. Sit. Have some wine," she said when Alistair once again refused to allow her to rise from his lap. "I apologize if my missive gave you the wrong impression. My husband has made an... unexpected decree. If we are to lie together, we must do so here."

Fergus gave Alistair a startled look, but Alistair shrugged calmly. "You said it yourself... brother. The activities of the king's bedchamber receive little scrutiny so long as certain requirements are met."

Elissa stared at her husband, taken aback by his unexpected claim of kinship to her brother as well as her sudden understanding of his motives. "Is that what this has been all about, then? Discretion?"

"What did you think it was about, wife?" he asked, his tone dropping to something low and dangerous. She squirmed upon his lap at that sound.

"I thought you were just being perverse."

"Maybe I am," Alistair acknowledged. "Maybe I want to understand exactly what it is you mean when you shrug and say 'we're Couslands' as though that explains everything. Maybe I want to see what it is that makes you desire your own brother."

With his words, something wild and proud reared up within Elissa, lifting her chin, straightening her back. By the Maker, she was Elissa Cousland, daughter of the teyrn of Highever and a whore, and she would not be ashamed or apologize for that.

"Then you shall see, husband," she declared and attempted yet again to rise from his lap. This time, he let her.

She filled a chalice for Fergus and brought it to him, her steps slow and measured, the sway of her hips calculated for Alistair's benefit. Fergus's eyes, the same sapphire hue as her own, were dark and watchful as she approached. Looking at him, Elissa forced herself to abandon her intent to play it up and put on a show for Alistair; this wasn't about him. It was about helping her brother rediscover his passion and joy. Perhaps it was even about requiting something that had existed between the two of them since long before she had met Alistair.

Standing before her brother, she took a long drink of wine and set aside the chalice, reaching for him and pulling him down to sample the wine from her lips. He was cautious at first, his eyes upon Alistair over her shoulder, but then his tongue sought hers and his eyes closed. He gave himself over to the kiss, his arms closing around her.

She took her time with it, exploring his mouth and allowing herself to be explored in return. She let herself lean back and be supported by her brother's arms as he bent over her to deepen the kiss, his tongue thrusting as her fingers combed through his fine, dark hair. He'd been letting it grow since he'd left Highever for Ostagar, and it was now long enough that he wore it in a queue at his nape. She released the thong that held it and let it flow about her fingers.

"Ah, sister...." Fergus whispered as her mouth trailed down the line of his jaw to nibble at the hard lump at the front of his throat. Something within her thrilled to be called that, to hear her brother's voice addressing her in passion in a way he'd not done for far too long, and never with such frank intent as now existed between them.

She felt Alistair's approach from the sudden tension in Fergus's body just an instant before his hands came down on her shoulders and drew her away from her brother, pulling her back against his chest.

"Alistair, what—?" she began to ask, but he cut her off.

"I did say I intended to be the one to undress you tonight," he said, his voice deep and raspy against her ear. She heard the clinking of the clasp on her gold girdle a moment before it loosened and fell to the floor, and her wide stomacher soon followed. His hands went to the laces of her bodice, the same laces which made it so easy for her to nurse Ella, and began to draw them apart, revealing breasts that strained against the fine, thin linen of her chemise. From over her shoulders he cupped them, kneaded them, lifted them out of her chemise and—Maker's breath—offered them to Fergus.

There was something almost ceremonial in that offer, she thought, though the idea was lost in her arousal. Perhaps offering her was what Alistair needed to do to be comfortable with this.

It was an offer Fergus accepted, bending to capture one of her nipples and sucking on it softly until he tasted her milk. "Mm," he sighed with pleasure, sweeping the flat of his tongue along her other breast. "I remember that taste, back when Oriana nursed Oren...."

Grief touched his features as he pulled back, and Elissa reached out to stroke his face gently with her knuckles. "I'm sorry, brother."

"I'll be all right, pup," he said, shaking himself as though to dispel the painful memories. "Let's have this be a thing of joy, shall we?"

She stretched up to kiss him again as Alistair's hands made short work of more laces. Her overgown pooled at her feet and she drew away from Fergus to allow Alistair to lift her kirtle over her head, and then her chemise. He slid her stockings down her legs, and Elissa shivered. Even with the crackling fire on the hearth, no room in the stone palace ever seemed to be truly warm in winter.

Alistair withdrew to add more wood to the fire while Elissa turned her attention to the toggles on Fergus's doublet. She unlaced the collar of his linen undershirt and slid her hands beneath it, taking pleasure both in the warmth of him and the sensation of his muscles and skin at her fingertips. She pushed his undershirt up and rubbed her face against his chest, flicking her tongue lightly over his nipple. Above her head, Fergus spoke, but it was Alistair he addressed.

"Are you still... curious about how to share your wife, brother?" he asked, his voice strained.

Elissa grew very still, a moan of desire so deep it might have been pain rising up from her throat. She wrapped her arms tightly around Fergus and shuddered, and he closed his arms around her in turn.

"I'm willing to wait," Alistair said calmly.

But Fergus seemed determined to press the point. "I wouldn't dream of usurping the royal—not to mention husbandly—prerogative."

Elissa moaned again as she understood what Fergus was getting at. He was offering to defer to Alistair so that Alistair could have her first, unsullied by another man's seed, if he desired. It was a brilliant move on Fergus's part, she thought with that small portion of her brain still capable of assessing such things, intended to let Alistair know that Fergus would take no liberties beyond those which Alistair permitted him. Knowing as she did that Alistair found comfort in having the initiative, Elissa thought there was little else Fergus might have done that would have set Alistair so at ease.

"I appreciate the thought," Alistair said after a moment, and she realized he had been considering it. "But I think my wife has other plans for this evening and I'll yield to her scheme for now."

The requirements of courtesy satisfied, Fergus's voice took on a humorous note. "And just what are these plans you've made, sister?" he asked with a smirk. The laughter in his tone was marvelously familiar. This was the Fergus she remembered.

"I intend to make love to my brother," she said calmly, drawing his undershirt over his head. She unlaced his breeches, but without kneeling on the cold stone floor she could not remove his boots, and so instead she settled for sliding her hands down over his backside, cupping him and pulling him closer. "We shall honor the lives of those we have lost and bid them farewell together."

Fergus closed his eyes with a long, solemn sigh and then swept her up in his arms, bearing her to the bed. He laid her gently upon it, kissing her again, then withdrew to remove his boots, breeches and braies. He was trembling when he crawled onto the bed, sliding his body over hers, though whether with desire or some deeper emotion she could not say. She opened her arms to him and welcomed his weight upon her.

There was no particular skill or artistry in the way they made love, though they both might have employed such things had they chosen to do so. No, it was beautiful in its simplicity, gentle kisses and caresses gradually escalating to something more intense and needful. Elissa was barely aware of Alistair moving around the bed, drawing closed the bedcurtains until only the draperies at the foot of the bed remained open, to better capture the light and warmth from the hearth. Alistair entered that semi-dark chamber with them, though he did not touch or interfere; the bed was large enough that he could sit and observe without being intrusive.

Fergus's tongue dipped into the warmth of her mouth as his hand slid down her belly, now marred by myriad silvery-white lines, and her thighs fell open. She arched and moaned as his fingers slide easily into her wet channel—the first time they had ever done so—and mewled as his thumb located her nub and began to stroke. It did not take long for her to reach completion, and she sighed her brother's name as she shuddered and clenched.

His body replaced his hand between her thighs and her knees came up to embrace his hips as his cock prodded her entrance. He was shaking again, and this time she knew it was from passion and need. He buried his face in her neck, her arms tightly about his shoulders, as he surged into her, too desperate after his long abstinence to go slowly.

Maker's breath, how had she never realized how generously he was appointed? She bit her lip, stretching to accommodate him, as he kissed her sweat-dampened neck and groaned, "Andraste's mercy! Oh, my sweet sister...."

After the first few, tentative strokes he pushed his weight up on his arm and began to thrust with intent, his eyes upon her face as her fingers dug into the muscles of his upper arms and her hips lifted to meet his. It ended far too soon, for it had been too long for Fergus and his need was too great. He kissed her hand as it stroked his face, and then his eyes closed and his thrusts became rougher and less coordinated, until he shuddered and moaned above her. When he collapsed upon her, there was a wetness upon his face that she knew was not merely sweat.

Tears burned her own eyes and tenderly, insistently, she drew his face toward hers, stroking away the wet trails upon his cheeks. She kissed him, deeply, lovingly, and when she drew away again, she whispered, "For Mother."

Another kiss, lips meshing, tongues meeting, and another parting. "For Father."

A third kiss, chaste and brief. "For Oren."

A fourth, long and passionate. "For Oriana," they breathed together.

On it went, the litany of the names of those they had lost—the chaste relationships and the debauched—each one sent to their rest with a final kiss. Ser Gilmore. Dairren. Iona. Nan. Aldous.

And a final kiss, hard and demanding. "For Duncan."

Alistair made a startled sound, and in unison they turned their heads to look at him. He was watching them with something akin to wonder, or rapture, and Elissa knew he had found the beauty in what he had seen and not merely the perversion. Now he understood what it meant to be a Cousland.

Fergus moved off her as Elissa pushed herself up and crawled across the bed to Alistair straddling his thighs. "For Duncan," she repeated, kissing him. His arms closed around her and only then did she realized he had stripped entirely before joining them upon the bed. His erection was hard and insistent, trapped between their bodies, and if he objected to the seep of Fergus's seed as it trickled down onto him, he did not object.

"For Duncan," he said with a sigh when the kiss broke.

Though he was aroused, Alistair seemed content to kiss her leisurely and hold her while she and Fergus recovered from their exertions. Fergus stretched out upon his back, his softened cock resting in the nest of hair at his groin as he draped an arm casually across his stomach and folded the other behind his head. He was beautiful, Elissa thought, despite the addition of the scars his injury in the Korcari Wilds and his time in Howe's dungeon had added. He was also far more peaceful than she had seen him in months. She prayed that he had found some of the healing he needed with her.

They all three began to converse, there together in the bed with Elissa resting her head on Alistair's thigh They shared memories and anecdotes and more tales of Elissa as a young girl than she particularly cared to have shared. More wine was poured and sipped, the fire built up again to ward off the creeping cold. Elissa had not realized the camaraderie that had sprung up between Fergus and Alistair all those weeks they were gone prior to the battle with the archdemon, but they spoke easily with one another once the inherent strangeness of their situation had faded somewhat in their minds.

Soon, however, Elissa began to grow distracted by the sight of so much nude male flesh surrounding her and the unspoken promise of more pleasures to come. Though Alistair's interest had temporarily flagged while they conversed, it quickly awoke when, without warning, she took his semi-soft cock into her mouth and began to suck. Alistair yelped in startled surprise and Fergus began to laugh as Alistair said in a strangled tone, "A little more warning before you do that, please, love?"

She released his cock as it began to grow firmer and licked slowly up its length. "Are you actually intending to complain?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," he muttered, his head falling back as her lips closed over the head of his cock again.

She had thought she would take her time with it, pleasure him slowly, but Alistair had other intentions. After only a few moments, he pushed her away and onto her back abruptly and crawled down her body. He lapped eagerly at her cunt, his tongue flicking at her nub as she moaned and writhed and arched. It wasn't until his tongue delved deep within her and she heard a definite sipping sound that she realized he was very deliberately tasting Fergus's seed upon her.

"Oh, dear Maker...." she moaned, everything within her tightening at the thought. She hadn't thought he would desire such a thing, but apparently once Alistair embraced debauchery, he did so without reservations.

Then Fergus was there before her, his eyes hot with passion and his cock standing boldly out between his legs. He kissed her, hard and urgent, before sucking his way down her neck and shoulders.

They pleasured her together, Alistair between her legs and Fergus at her breasts. Elissa surrendered to their ministrations, to their hands and fingers, probing and pinching. Alistair’s tongue wrought exquisite pleasure at her nub as Fergus nibbled delicately upon her nipples. She let herself be pampered and adored by them, until she was so overwhelmed by sensation she could hardly bear it.

Begging for a reprieve, she lay there a moment, catching her breath. Then she reached out and idly caressed Fergus’s cock, the closest to hand. Fergus moaned softly as Elissa’s fingers became more purposeful, stroking him.

"Suck him," Alistair growled, lifting his head from where he had laid it upon her thigh. It was not a request. He'd given her the freedom to make love to Fergus as she wished to, but now he was going to seize the initiative once more and reassert his claim in no uncertain terms.

Elissa found she was perfectly delighted with that arrangement. Fergus moved toward her face as Alistair once again thrust his tongue rudely into her channel, lapping at the cream there. And then her mouth was upon Fergus's cock, her hand pumping as she licked and sucked, her cheeks hollowing. She employed her mother's techniques to great effect feeling that soft, odd popping when the head passed into her throat. She backed off to draw a deep breath and then took him deep into her throat again as Alistair drew away.

A moment later he returned, not with his mouth but with his cock, and thrust hard into her, setting a punishing pace that left her wailing around Fergus's cock. Fergus read Alistair's mood perfectly accurately and joined in the game enthusiastically. When the pleasure of Alistair's thrusts grew so intense that she could no longer concentrate on pleasuring her brother, he took control, seizing her hair and thrusting into her mouth, choking off her cries as his cock pushed into her throat until she began pushing at him in desperate need of air.

Neither of them were gentle or careful as the urgency of passion set in, Alistair slamming into her cunt as Fergus fucked her mouth. It was perfect, to be there between them, completely at their mercy and yet completely safe. Here she could lose herself and be nothing more than a vessel they fucked. They used her roughly and she reveled in it, feeling her release looming near.

Alistair's fingers began to work her clit, circling and pressing, and Elissa screamed around Fergus's cock as she came, bucking and clawing and sobbing with pleasure. The spasms had scarcely passed when Alistair pulled out of Elissa entirely and knelt between her thighs with his hands clenched and his eyes shut, cursing as he fought for control.

"Pinch yourself, brother," she heard Fergus say, and he drew away from her. "Here."

She heard Alistair's grunt of discomfort and her entire body seized again in an echo of orgasm as she realized Fergus had taken hold of Alistair's cock and was squeezing the base hard until he had succeeded in warding off Alistair's impending release. Elissa watched them raptly as they waited together, with no room for self-consciousness as her brother held her husband's cock in his hand.

"Thank you," Alistair said after a long moment.

Fergus bowed his head with a smile, and Elissa realized that her brother wasn't entirely certain where Alistair's boundaries lay and whether he might have overstepped them. Alistair stared at Fergus's smile for a moment, something she couldn't quite read crossing his face. He looked from her brother to her and back again, and just as Elissa was about to speak, to inquire as to his comfort level, he seized the initiative again and pulled Fergus into a demanding kiss.

Elissa gave a startled gasp as they came together ferociously, grappling and groping. Fergus did not give ground as easily as Zevran had. They fought for dominance within the kiss, and Elissa feared that perhaps Alistair's approach was too aggressive after all Fergus had been through with Howe, but at last Fergus was satisfied that Alistair was worthy of yielding for and gave over gracefully. His arms came around Alistair and Alistair took Fergus's face in his hands and guided him, deepening the kiss as he willed.

It was beautiful and glorious and breathtaking. Elissa shuddered with desire and reached for them both. They separated, their chests heaving breathlessly, as her hands touched their shoulders and she rose up to move between them.

"Have we been neglecting you, sister?" Fergus asked, striving to lighten the mood as Alistair—clearly stunned at himself—gathered his thoughts.

"You have, and most shamefully," she scolded lightly. "Do not think I have forgotten the offer you made my husband?"

"You wish to be shared, then, do you?" Alistair spoke at last, his voice rough with passion.

"Yes. I want you both, the two men I love most in this world," she said with conviction. It was only then that she realized that, though she had experienced such things before, never had it been with men she loved. In fact, most often it had been under painful or horrid circumstances, such as in Lothering or at the Circle Tower. Being pressed between them, in love and pleasure, seemed so much more significant, so much more sublime, than it ever had before.

Smiling, she kissed Alistair lovingly, guiding him to lie back upon the bed as she crawled over him. She tasted Fergus's seed from his lips and she marveled that he was not more conflicted about it all. She thought about the admission he had made to her earlier, about his willingness to do anything with her, and realized he had been sincere. He had stared the dark prospect of dying, or seeing her die instead, in the face and come away determined never to miss an opportunity.

"I love you," she whispered, swiping with her tongue at a smear of her fluids mingled with Fergus's upon his chin.

Alistair smiled at her, his hands caressing her breasts, pulling gently at her nipples, as she reared up above him and slid her wet cunt up and down his shaft where it lay pressed between them.

"You'll find what you need in the trunk at the foot of the bed, brother," she said and shifted upward to take Alistair's cock in hand and guide it within her.

"Oh, Maker, yes," he moaned, his eyes closing and his jaw clenching. She made no effort to ride him vigorously, but merely stroked leisurely up and down, enjoying the sensation of him filling her, the tiny bit of pain that accompanied his skillful pinches at her nipples; he had truly become an expert at knowing just how much pain to apply to heighten pleasure, for it was a skill well in line with his own aggressive inclinations.

Fergus moved in behind her and his arms encircled her. One of his hands supplanted Alistair's upon her breast so that each of them kneaded and stroked a different breast. Fergus's fingers were a little firmer than Alistair's when he pulled at her nipple, and she whimpered and tensed above Alistair until Alistair had to choke out a request for Fergus to stop, lest the entire affair be ended too soon.

"Down, pup," Fergus said, placing a kiss on her shoulder before he pressed on her back.

She sank down upon Alistair, kissing and nuzzling his chest as Fergus's oil-slicked fingers began to work open her rear passage. The adjustment to the intrusion made her tighten about Alistair and he groaned agreeably, his eyes looking over her shoulder at Fergus as her brother added more oil and slid a second finger into her ass.

Caught up in pleasure and the nearly overwhelming sensation of being filled front and back, Elissa nearly missed the constancy of Alistair's attention to Fergus, but finally she felt compelled to inquire about it.

"What is it you're thinking of when you look at my brother?"

She had expected a response dealing with the resemblance she and Fergus bore one another. What she did not expect was that Alistair would give a slight push to slide deeper into her as he replied simply, "Duncan."

Elissa shuddered and lost her ability to think clearly as Fergus added a third finger, twisting and wriggling until all three were seated deep within her. With Alistair's girth making her tighter, it took some effort to relax her, but Fergus was relentless.

"You were close to Duncan as well, then, brother?" Fergus asked as he worked. Elissa was spared the effort of participating in the conversation and buried her head against Alistair's chest, moaning as Fergus's fingers spread her wider.

"Not—" Alistair's words were cut off abruptly and he tensed as Elissa clenched around him again. "—Not in the way the two of you were, but yes."

Fergus hummed thoughtfully, and withdrew his fingers from Elissa's bottom, wringing from her a bereft moan. But she heard the sounds of him slicking his cock and then his body was over hers, pressing her down tighter against Alistair as his cock nudged at her relaxed entrance. He waited, hovering there a moment until the expectant tension in Elissa's body began to drain away, and then he kissed the back of her neck and began to push inside.

"Oh, sweet Andraste...." she and Alistair groaned in unison.

Fergus had been thorough; only the slightest burn marred the pleasure of his cock pushing insistently into her ass, and then the wide crown of the head was through and there was only unbearably intense pleasure.

"Oh, Maker's mercy," Elissa whimpered, rubbing her face back and forth against Alistair's chest, sweating and trembling with the effort of taking them both at once. How was it she never quite remembered just how intense this act of sharing could be?

And then Fergus was seated fully within her, his hips brushing her buttocks, and he was raining kisses across her shoulders as he stroked her back. "Are you well, sister?" he asked solicitously.

"Full," she mumbled incoherently. There was almost no pain and yet it was so overwhelming she wasn't certain she could endure it. What minuscule fragment of rational thought remained to her was consumed by the knowledge that this was her brother filling her ass until she didn't think she could bear anymore, her brother pulling her up off Alistair's chest to wrap his arms around her and cup her breasts. He withdrew slightly and then pushed in again, and Elissa cried out loudly.

"Touch her, brother," Fergus breathed beside her ear, and with his eyes raptly upon her, Alistair's fingers found her clit. Just a stroke, that was all it took and then her body went rigid, a scream parting her lips as she jerked and bucked. Alistair and Fergus both pushed harder, deeper into her in response, and another orgasm crashed through her, hard on the heels of the first.

Alistair grunted again, no doubt feeling Fergus moving. He held hard to Elissa's hips as Fergus began to thrust, but she was insensible to his response, insensible to anything but the fullness and the stretching and the endless waves of pleasure so intense she didn't think she could stand anymore.

Then they were both moving, thrusting, finding a rhythm within her that allowed them to work together rather than impede one another. Their hands were upon her, and their mouths; clutching, stroking, sucking, nibbling. And she was coming, coming, crying out for Alistair, for her brother, for the Maker's sweet mercy to deliver her.

It was Alistair who came next, not having had the prior release Fergus had enjoyed. Unable to come anymore, Elissa collapsed against his chest in exhaustion as Fergus began to thrust with greater freedom, driving her into Alistair as his cock softened inside her cunt. And then her brother was groaning her name, releasing his seed deep within her ass, and when his weight sagged upon her it was marvelous, being pressed between them so tightly, surrounded by the warmth of their bodies and the scent of their musk and the power of their arms. Surrounded by their love.

Their hands guided her down and she was too weary and spent to do anything more than lie between them, floating hazily at the edge of unconsciousness. She felt Alistair's arms around her, Fergus at her back and she drifted. How long she slept, she couldn't say, nor could she be certain whether or not Alistair and Fergus slept as well. But it was some time later when Fergus sat up and murmured something about needing to leave before it got too much later.

She wanted to protest, but she knew she should not. Despite the relative safety from scrutiny assured by the privacy of the king's bedchamber, if her brother began spending nights with them, someone was bound to notice. Still, the dejected set of Fergus's shoulders as he rose from the bed and began to search for his clothing, silhouetted by the red-gold glow of the fire, made her heart ache. He was so alone, and when he left them he would be even more so.

"Don't go, brother," she pleaded.

"I can't stay until morning, pup," he said sadly. "The excuse of a family conference will only carry us so far."

"What if we use gossip to our advantage?" she said, pushing herself up and looking not at Fergus, but at Alistair. "If rumor begins to circulate that Fergus spent the night in the king's bedchamber, who's to say it was the queen he lay with?"

Alistair stared at her in disbelief. "You mean start—or at least allow—a rumor that he's my lover?"

"Our fondness is well-known, husband, but there is also a great deal of talk that your primary purpose in marrying me was actually to adopt your brother's child as your heir, and considerable speculation as to why that might be," she said rationally. "If gossip had it that your tastes ran to men, it might explain your own inability to produce an heir without giving away Grey Warden secrets."

"Maybe your husband doesn't want a reputation for buggery, sister," Fergus said mildly, though when he turned, his profile spoke of a far more eager opinion on the subject. "Not to mention it would put a rather severe dent in any plans I may eventually have to find a wife and produce an heir for the teyrnir."

Elissa bowed her head and nodded a reluctant acknowledgment. He was right, of course. She was being irrational. It wasn't like her to be so short-sighted in matters of politics. "I can't bear the thought of you being alone, brother," she murmured sadly. "We're Couslands. We're not meant to sleep in empty beds."

His braies in his hand, Fergus came to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching across Alistair to caress her face. "This has been lovely, pup. But I must go and I must not come back. I promise you, I will not allow myself to be alone for long." He gave her a smile full of mirth, and Elissa felt her heart lighten to realize that in some respects, she had succeeded. This was the gregarious, often bawdy brother she remembered. "Maybe I'll take Alfstanna up on her offer. Or maybe I'll find some man to bugger me senseless until I'm no longer reminded of all Howe did to me."

"Like Duncan once did," she said, returning his smile.

"Hmm," Fergus grinned, lifting her hand to place a flamboyant kiss upon it. "I'm not likely to find another Duncan but perhaps the Maker will favor me with someone close enough."

She was about to move across Alistair to kiss her brother farewell when she heard her husband speak, and his words turned her head as her jaw dropped in astonishment.

"Will I do?" he asked softly.

Elissa stared at him, hardly able to believe what she had heard, and even Fergus was quite clearly taken aback. Alistair met her eyes with a smile that was shy and devastatingly sensual all at once.

"I... guess my fetish for following where Duncan led is a bit stronger than I might have assumed," he shrugged, ducking his head in embarrassment. Then he sighed and lifted it again, setting his chin with proud determination. "Besides, once you cross enough lines, the rest just seem silly and arbitrary, right?"

"Exactly so, my love," she murmured, and kissed him. She could feel the slight tremor in his body as his arms encircled her and realized he was nervous, nervous in a way he hadn't even been the first time he'd made love with her. But the hardness creating a rise beneath the bedclothes spoke of something that knew nothing of nervousness.

They turned as one to look at Fergus, who was watching them with eyes that had gone dark with desire.

"What say you, brother?" Elissa asked softly.

"Yes," Fergus agreed, dropping his braies to the floor and climbing up onto the bed. Alistair pushed himself up onto his knees to meet Fergus's mouth with that same determination with which he tackled so many things that made him feel uncertain, headlong and relentless. She watched them breathlessly, enraptured by the beauty of them as they strained together, their skin gleaming in the light of the fire, their muscles rippling. They knelt there facing each other, embracing each other. Alistair stiffed a moment when Fergus's hands slid down his spine to cup his backside and pull him closer, grinding their erections together, and then he groaned and pressed harder against Fergus's body.

Fergus let himself sink back upon the bed, bringing Alistair down above him. Alistair explored Fergus's ears and neck as Fergus's legs hooked around Alistair's and he thrust up against Alistair's cock, and Alistair rocked against him in response, the muscles of his buttocks flexing and clenching as he gave himself over to the rhythm of the simulated fucking.

When they broke apart, Alistair stared at Fergus beneath him, and then turned to look at Elissa, who was scarcely less affected by their display. He looked back and forth between them again and commented, "Maker's breath, he looks like you!"

Elissa and Fergus smiled at each other in shared memory. It wasn't the first time they'd heard such an observation. The last time, it had been when they were both pleasuring Oriana simultaneously.

"Shall we show him just how alike we can be, sister?" Fergus proposed.

Elissa nodded eagerly and reached to pull Alistair off of Fergus. "Lay back, husband," she urged.

They pleasured him together. Elissa took the head of Alistair's cock into her mouth and sucked deeply while Fergus licked his sac, causing Alistair to stiffen and thrust up into her mouth. Their tongues slid up and down opposite sides of his cock in unison, until they met at the head and paused to exchange a kiss that tasted of Alistair's musk. Beneath their mouths and tongues, Alistair writhed and moaned and invoked the name of the Maker while they worked, until finally he gasped, "Enough!" and lay there panting and shuddering until he had regained his control.

Fergus gave Elissa another kiss and asked her to move aside, his mood suddenly sombre and perhaps a touch nervous. He retrieved the vial of oil he had set aside earlier and handed it to Alistair, who released a long, slow breath as he took it.

"I should like to face you, brother," Fergus said, lying upon his back and lifting his knees. "So that I may look up and know who is taking me."

Alistair gave a solemn nod and set himself to the task of preparing Fergus. Elissa could see his touch was gentle, cautious, his tendency toward aggression restrained in the face of the trust Fergus was placing in him after his ordeal at Howe's hands.

Fergus gasped and tensed when one of Alistair's fingers slid slowly into him, and Elissa moved to lay beside his head, caressing his face soothingly, murmuring to him and encouraging relaxation and trust as though he were new to such pleasures. Gradually Fergus began to move with the intrusion of Alistair's fingers, his body writhing sensually as he gave himself over to pleasure. Alistair was a bit startled when his fingers found the spot deep within Fergus that drew a shout from him as he jerked and tensed in pleasure.

"Oh, that's right," Elissa said with a smile. "I haven't tried that particular trick upon you, have I, my love? How very remiss of me."

"Some other time... if you will... sister," Fergus gasped, panting and groaning as Alistair continued to work his fingers in and out, twisting and massaging. Elissa was glad she had taught him about this kind of pleasure, and grateful he had taken to it so enthusiastically, to be so skilled and careful. Occasionally his eyes would move beyond Fergus to find hers, and whatever he found in her spellbound gaze urged him onward.

At length Alistair withdrew his fingers and began to slick more oil over his cock. He met Fergus's eyes as her brother stared at him with heavy-lidded eyes, and Elissa was amazed to find that for the moment, she had been forgotten and all their attention was upon one another. She could not find it within herself to mind, however. Fergus drew his knees to his chest and angled his pelvis upward. Alistair breathed deeply, closing his eyes for a long moment, then moved over Fergus's body.

"Yes, brother," Fergus murmured as Alistair began to push against him. They groaned in unison at the moment Alistair slid slowly into Fergus's body, both of them shuddering with the intensity of sensation, with restrained passion, with fears and nervousness they did not speak. Alistair pushed slowly forward until he was seated deep within and then he hung his head, trembling and waiting while Fergus adjusted.

"Oh, dear Maker...." Fergus moaned. He was still for a long moment, drawing deep, slow, deliberate breaths. Elissa wondered if perhaps Howe had done him some injury along the way to make adapting to Alistair's cock within his more difficult, or if it was emotion which challenged her brother. At last, Fergus's eyes opened and he released his hold on the back of his knees to reach up and touch Alistair. Alistair met his eyes and lowered himself upon Fergus to kiss him.

They lay there entwined, Fergus's arms and legs surrounding Alistair, his hands clutching and pulling and stroking Alistair's damp skin. One kiss stretched out into another, and another, their mouths meshing and exploring until Fergus was pliant and relaxed beneath Alistair. Only then did Alistair begin to move, withdrawing and then rocking his hips forward until he was fully engulfed.

"Yessss...." Fergus hissed, drawing his knees to his chest again to open himself up wider. "Yes."

Elissa was certain she would never see a more perfect and glorious sight than that of Alistair, his fears and uncertainties and inhibitions forgotten, making love to her brother. She watched his beautiful face as passion overcame him, listened to his low, growling sounds as he surged into Fergus, his movements becoming more forceful and less restrained. She thrilled to hear Fergus's moans and cries as he arched and pushed back against Alistair, begging him for more.

Her fingers parted her own folds, sliding into her slick cleft as she watched them, her body humming with desire. Part of her wanted their attention and part of her wanted them to stay lost in one another as she admired them together. Alistair's thrusts grew harder, drawing more intense responses from Fergus, and then he shuddered and slowed, nearly overcome and attempting to draw himself back from the edge.

Fergus's moan hovered somewhere between relief and disappointment as he took the moment to collect himself as well. His gaze fell upon Elissa and her shining fingers where they rested between her thighs, and Alistair followed the look, licking his lips as he saw the evidence of her arousal.

A look of irrepressible mischief crossed Fergus's face. "Perhaps someday I can show you another way to share," he offered, turning his attention to Alistair.

"How?" Alistair's voice was so low with the strain of passion it was barely recognizable as being a human voice at all.

"Imagine being the force which drives another man into your wife," Fergus said, "taking them both by taking him as he takes her."

Alistair groaned and began to move again, slowly at first then picking up speed, and Fergus quickly lost the capacity for speech until he slowed Alistair down again by placing his legs upon Alistair's shoulders.

"Or imagine being the one in the middle, being filled and engulfed at the same moment with her beautiful face beneath you," Fergus breathed.

"Oh, sweet Andraste," Alistair moaned and his control was lost. He slammed into Fergus and Fergus welcomed him, a nearly constant moan rising up from his lips. He lowered his legs again to take his furiously engorged cock in hand, and Elissa suddenly found herself in motion before she even realized she intended to act. She pulled Fergus's hand away and replaced it with her mouth.

A hand fell upon the back of her head, fingers gripping her hair. Alistair, she realized with a pang of arousal so intense it was nearly a painful cramp in her belly, clutching her head, holding her in place as he drove Fergus into her mouth, choking her. It only took a few thrusts and then Fergus's salty seed was spilling upon her tongue as her brother cried out his passion. She drank it down lazily as Alistair gave a few final uncoordinated thrusts and came with a feral growl, pumping into Fergus.

Smiling, she lay with her head on her brother's chest as Alistair hovered above them, shaking with the force of his release. Only when he carefully withdrew and sank down onto the bed beside Fergus did she rise, retrieving wet linen cloths to clean them all.

At length, Fergus kissed them both and rose, dressing. Elissa lay there beside Alistair and watched him, pleased to note that despite his obvious exhaustion, there was an energy about him, a jauntiness to his movements that was marvelously familiar. Bidding them thanks and good night, he left himself out of the chamber, and Elissa rested her head upon Alistair's arm as he held her.

"Perhaps someday we might travel to Highever," she said after a long moment. "The family quarters there are arranged in such a way that the guards would be stationed outside the entire suite and no one would know who was in whose bedchamber."

"That... could be interesting," Alistair acknowledged, his words slurring with weariness.

"While we're at it, we might stop by Amaranthine and pay a visit to the new Wardens at Vigil's Keep."

"Why all this sudden interest in travel?" Alistair asked drowsily. “I would have thought after all those months on the road, you would want to settle in one place for a while.”

"Because, my love," she murmured, snuggling closer to him. "There's an entire world of pleasures out there for us to discover in the years we have remaining to us. And I don't want to miss a single one."

"You won't," Alistair assured her, kissing the crown of her head as she drifted off to sleep. "I'll make certain of it."


THE END
(yep, it's finally finished.)