In The Woods

She steps close to him, and he can count the individual eyelashes that seem to flutter. Is she nervous? He swallows, trying to think of something else, anything else other than this curvaceous, fantastic woman in front of him. She smiles, and his efforts are for nothing. How can anyone remain sane in front of this..?
"I, ah.. that is, I'm.." Good start, he thinks. She giggles, and he is sure his heart is going to burst. Closing his eyes, he starts again. "I want.. you. To spend the night with me. Very much," he adds, whispering. She strokes his cheek, and he opens his eyes to find hers looking at him with a look of deep affection and something else - lust? - before standing on tiptoes to kiss him. Reaching around her, he pulls her close and whispers, "I'm sorry I'm such a fool." She chuckles, the feeling vibrating through his breastplate, and silences his objections by gently blowing across his ear, an act that should not be so unbelievably erotic, he thinks as the sensation crawls across his skin and down his back. He cannot help but gasp, and she grins devilishly. Taking his hand, she pulls him out beyond camp, into the dense woods. He follows because he cannot help but follow her, with those swaying hips and those eyes and those hands that were making light work of taking off his armour - wait, he should be paying attention.
With a thunk, his armour falls to his feet and he is free to throw caution to the wind, cupping her face and pushing her against the nearest tree, kissing her as if to steal the life out of her. She responded in kind, threading fingers through his hair and moaning into his mouth. The very sound coursed through Alistair's body like an electrical force, knocking the breath from him. She took the advantage, pushing him back just enough to grab at his top, pulling it over his head. Throwing it to the side, she runs hands across his chest, feeling him shudder underneath her.
"Maker's breath, woman," he gasps, clinging to her as if letting go would mean the end of him. She smiles, cradling his face in her hands, and he knows he is lost to this vision of divine perfection. Pulling him towards the tree, she leans him against it, pushing her form against his, trailing slow and languid kisses down his neck. He can feel her warmth through her shirt and suddenly decides that he needs to become king, if only to ban this gorgeous creature from ever wearing clothes in his presence. He tugs at the hem of her top, and she takes the hint, hauling the flimsy fabric over her head. Pulling her tight towards him, he cannot help but whisper his thanks to the Maker for such beauty, and she shivers slightly in his grip. Returning his attentions to her mouth, he kisses her, caressing her back and revelling in the soft gasp he gains from it. With a quick motion, he sweeps her up into his arms and gently rests her on the floor, leaning over her to kiss her collarbone and tenderly cradle a breast. She shudders violently for a second and he stops, wary of every move, but she strokes his neck to reassure him and he plants a trail of tiny kisses down her chest, smiling as he is rewarded with equally tiny moans that crawl along his skin. He finds it increasingly difficult not to rush things – not that he would know exactly what to rush, he thinks giddily. Apparently instinct serves just as well as first hand experience.
Any further decision-making is swept out of his hands, however, as she grabs the initiative and wriggles out of her remaining clothes, discarding them somewhere over her shoulder. He stares, but cannot help but smile as she blushes at the attention. Leaning down, he captures her lips with his, eliciting another moan and a frantic grab for the rest of his clothes. He chuckles, a low throaty laugh, and traces down her side, fingers tripping over soft skin marred with bruises and cuts. The smile fades slightly, and she can feel him tense up.
“Hey now, would you leave a lady waiting?” she jokes, although her voice is a little choked. His eyes flicker back up to meet hers, and there is a sense of urgency about the way he pulls her towards him.
“Never,” he growls, kissing her neck. She giggles and pushes him over onto him back, reaching down between them and tenderly holding his member. He exhales hard against her ear, and she shudders further into his grip. Stroking it gently, she watches his face as his eyes roll back, whispering what could have been a prayer to the Maker. His hands slip around her and pull her hips to his, and the contact is unbearable, like white heat. She almost calls out there and then, straddling him in one quick movement. Her sex is rubbing against his and she holds herself up on her arms, barely. He cannot think of any feeling that compares to right now and if the darkspawn caught them unawares and killed them now, he would be happy that he is sharing this with her above all else. He stares into her eyes, his breathing laboured, and kisses her softly. She cannot help but moan into his mouth, and moves her hips forward just a fraction, and then -
Oh, but he is inside her, and around her, and under her, and he cannot quite believe that such a sensation is frowned upon by the Chantry, because this is as close to the Maker as a mortal can be. He pulls her close to him, as close as their flesh allows, and feels every heartbeat through his ribcage, until he is not sure whose heart is whose.
“Oh.. Maker..” He is gasping for air, the sensation of being so unbelievably connected to this enchantress almost too much for his human heart. She chuckles, and it vibrates through her into him, and he grins. “What?”
“Just you.” She pulls up to look him in the eye, her hair hanging around her face like a veil. “Wonderful you.” He reaches to stroke her cheek, but settles for pulling her back down for a long kiss. She starts to move her hips, and each movement is like the ripples on a pond, building up the sensation from the place where they join to the tips of his fingers until he is simply a mess, a mass of lust and moaning her name as fingertips explore the nuances of her skin. Grabbing her arms suddenly, he rolls her over so that he is the above and she is below, and balances himself on his arms, kissing her neck and whispering her name inbetween. She gasps at the sudden reversal, hands grasping his back for some small purchase. He nips her neck and she giggles again, right next to his ear. Ridiculously erotic, he concludes as he shivers.
“I love you.” The words are barely a whisper, but he hears them and grins like a fool into her neck. They have said it before, but he is glad to know that he has not driven her off with his performance – more, he knows, just knows somehow, that she really truly does mean it, with that breathless voice that betrays her nervousness.
“And I love you. Maker's breath but I love you so much,” he replies, thrusting into her. She is clinging to him like a drowning sailor lost on the high seas as he plunges deeper into her, her cries more and more frantic as all-out passion consumes her. The sound erupts from her as she is lost to the feeling, and she tightens around him, spurring on his own orgasm, and then he is gone from the mortal realm, he is sitting next to the Maker and the Maker's face is hers, and he thinks he is so truly blessed to have Her love -

It is some time before he can breathe normally again, but he realises quickly that she is not speaking. Fearful that he has crushed her, he pulls himself up on his arms to find her content and glassy-eyed. He grins, swooping down for a languid kiss, before pulling out of her to rest by her side and hold her close, stroking her jawline tenderly with his fingertips.