Solitary Pleasure
folder
+A through F › Dragon Age (all)
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,340
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+A through F › Dragon Age (all)
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,340
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
Dragon Age: Origins is the property of Bioware. No profit is being made from this story.
Solitary Pleasure
SOLITARY PLEASURE
She had wandered away from camp looking for herbs. She heard a sound behind her and saw that Alistair, her Grey Warden companion of some four weeks pacing through the brush. She wondered what he was doing there when she saw him look around him in all directions; she thought that this was somewhat strange so instead of calling his attention and greeting him for some reason she ducked down behind a bush.
Alistair then appeared to select a tree and walked up to it. Turning towards it, he opened his legs somewhat, thrust his pelvis forward and began to unlace the flies of his breeches. Lyna was mortified but despite knowing that it was so, so wrong, she could not keep her eyes off what he was doing. He was now rummaging in the front of his pants and suddenly his member burst out. There was no better way to describe it because it appeared to be in an advanced state of arousal. Lyna had to suppress the impulse to giggle nervously by biting her tongue and clamping her hands to her mouth.
From were she was hidden she had a very good view, it was inflamed and very swollen, its contours were smooth and pleasing and somehow inviting, and, even taking account of its current state, it had a more than respectable width and length. Alistair clasped one of his hands around its root and moved the shaft up and down, but this was obviously unsatisfactory. He started shaking his head and he appeared to be loosing his temper. “Maker’s breath, now I can’t even bloody pee!” and he struck the bark of the tree with his other large open hand and cursed.
He looked about him again. Then with a small groan, wrapping both hands around his awkward penis, he turned his back to tree and let himself slide down it until he was seated at its foot with his legs akimbo. She knew it was wrong, very, very wrong but Lyna, entranced, slunk among the bushes with the practiced steps of the Dalish until she was more of less squatting directly opposite him.
His legs were wide open and both his hands were gripping the engorged sex emerging from his pants. As she watched, he sighed and closed his eyes leaning his head back against the tree trunk. Then with one hand clasping the root he began to slide the other very slowly up and down his now throbbing shaft moaning softly between his perfectly shaped half open lips, his eyelids fluttering. Soon Lyna could see some moisture glistening at its apex.
After a further few minutes he opened his eyes and sat up, Lyna panicked wondering whether she had made some noise and was about to be discovered, but Alistair only looked down at himself and, licking his lips, spread the wetness accumulated at the tip of his member down its length. This appeared to have the desired effect and throwing his head back once again exposing his throat, he began to stroke himself much more vigorously panting and gasping quite audibly with every movement of his eager hand.
Lyna could not take her eyes off him, this was the face he would pull in the throes of passion, these the sounds he would make, she thought… Inevitably she felt her own body responding to his.
She had already judged him quite handsome, for a human, of course, and felt the initial frisson of latent attraction between them, but suddenly watching him like this she became aware that she was desperately aroused by and desperately sorry for him all at the same time.
He was a large clumsy youth, a virgin obviously; he blushed every time he spoke to her, now she knew why. The only way he could find some relief was alone, ashamed and exposed, like this. The quest they were on was dangerous they were both aware either of them could die any minute. It seemed so wrong that he had to resort to comforting himself in isolation, as if the most loving part of his being, his deepest desires and urges, were somehow cheap and unworthy.
“Alistair” she repeated his name to herself as if trying it for size. “Alistair”.
Alistair’s legs began to quake and his groans became louder and more urgent, almost as if he were in pain. Suddenly he wrenched his hand up to the top of his member with almost ruthless brutality and cried out, cried out Lyna’s name, as he doubled over and large gouts of his seed splashed on the woodland earth.
Lyna shook her head. There were tears in her eyes, “You will be mine, lethallan, and I shall teach you the ways of love, you will be mine and never want for affection in my arms…”
THE END
She had wandered away from camp looking for herbs. She heard a sound behind her and saw that Alistair, her Grey Warden companion of some four weeks pacing through the brush. She wondered what he was doing there when she saw him look around him in all directions; she thought that this was somewhat strange so instead of calling his attention and greeting him for some reason she ducked down behind a bush.
Alistair then appeared to select a tree and walked up to it. Turning towards it, he opened his legs somewhat, thrust his pelvis forward and began to unlace the flies of his breeches. Lyna was mortified but despite knowing that it was so, so wrong, she could not keep her eyes off what he was doing. He was now rummaging in the front of his pants and suddenly his member burst out. There was no better way to describe it because it appeared to be in an advanced state of arousal. Lyna had to suppress the impulse to giggle nervously by biting her tongue and clamping her hands to her mouth.
From were she was hidden she had a very good view, it was inflamed and very swollen, its contours were smooth and pleasing and somehow inviting, and, even taking account of its current state, it had a more than respectable width and length. Alistair clasped one of his hands around its root and moved the shaft up and down, but this was obviously unsatisfactory. He started shaking his head and he appeared to be loosing his temper. “Maker’s breath, now I can’t even bloody pee!” and he struck the bark of the tree with his other large open hand and cursed.
He looked about him again. Then with a small groan, wrapping both hands around his awkward penis, he turned his back to tree and let himself slide down it until he was seated at its foot with his legs akimbo. She knew it was wrong, very, very wrong but Lyna, entranced, slunk among the bushes with the practiced steps of the Dalish until she was more of less squatting directly opposite him.
His legs were wide open and both his hands were gripping the engorged sex emerging from his pants. As she watched, he sighed and closed his eyes leaning his head back against the tree trunk. Then with one hand clasping the root he began to slide the other very slowly up and down his now throbbing shaft moaning softly between his perfectly shaped half open lips, his eyelids fluttering. Soon Lyna could see some moisture glistening at its apex.
After a further few minutes he opened his eyes and sat up, Lyna panicked wondering whether she had made some noise and was about to be discovered, but Alistair only looked down at himself and, licking his lips, spread the wetness accumulated at the tip of his member down its length. This appeared to have the desired effect and throwing his head back once again exposing his throat, he began to stroke himself much more vigorously panting and gasping quite audibly with every movement of his eager hand.
Lyna could not take her eyes off him, this was the face he would pull in the throes of passion, these the sounds he would make, she thought… Inevitably she felt her own body responding to his.
She had already judged him quite handsome, for a human, of course, and felt the initial frisson of latent attraction between them, but suddenly watching him like this she became aware that she was desperately aroused by and desperately sorry for him all at the same time.
He was a large clumsy youth, a virgin obviously; he blushed every time he spoke to her, now she knew why. The only way he could find some relief was alone, ashamed and exposed, like this. The quest they were on was dangerous they were both aware either of them could die any minute. It seemed so wrong that he had to resort to comforting himself in isolation, as if the most loving part of his being, his deepest desires and urges, were somehow cheap and unworthy.
“Alistair” she repeated his name to herself as if trying it for size. “Alistair”.
Alistair’s legs began to quake and his groans became louder and more urgent, almost as if he were in pain. Suddenly he wrenched his hand up to the top of his member with almost ruthless brutality and cried out, cried out Lyna’s name, as he doubled over and large gouts of his seed splashed on the woodland earth.
Lyna shook her head. There were tears in her eyes, “You will be mine, lethallan, and I shall teach you the ways of love, you will be mine and never want for affection in my arms…”
THE END