A/N: What started off as a one shot promise to icey cold evolved into the 4 Seasons because this trio is such fun to write. I'm only sorry now there aren't more seasons. Thank you to all who have read, lurked and reviewed. And icey cold, thanks for encouraging me to do the Leonie sammich.
Of Peacocks and Pirates 4
Dancing
Spring has arrived in a burst of color. The sky is robin's egg blue, piercing and vivid, having chased away the last of the winter grey. The sun is a brilliant yellow, as bright as the buttercups that are growing in abundance under its gaze. Anemones and daisies and primroses are all dancing in perfect time with each other in the softly perfumed breeze, a riot of pinks and reds and yellows against the bare flesh of her legs. The grass, newly minted, is sweet and soft beneath her bare feet.
It is Spring and every village in Orlais is celebrating the death of winter and the slow unfurling of the new growth, of life, and the villagers are rejoicing and drinking and dancing and reveling in that sweet promise.
She bends to gather a handful of daisies and laughs as the wind catches her hair which now swirls around her face, tickling her skin. There is a basket of strawberries at her feet, plump and ripe and temptingly red. She stops and listens, tilting her head. The sound of musicians in the village below her mixes with the wild song of the birds, all celebrating the flawless spring day in perfect harmony. Her heart is as light as the breeze that is caressing her and she laughs with delight.
She gathers her basket of daisies and her basket of strawberries and settles on the blanket spread before her, waiting for her beloved Rivaini Pirate and her playful Peacock. As she waits, she begins to weave daisy chains and a crown of daisies for her unruly hair which is now playing tag with the wind.
He sees her as he comes over the rise, his beautiful Lion of Orlais. Her dark, lustrous hair, rippling like waves down her back, her blue eyes the perfect reflection of the spring sky, her full lips, stained red with the strawberries she has been eating, tilted up in a smile. He loves her. He wants her. He has no control over the longing to feel her against him, her soft, supple young breasts brushing against him, her long shapely legs entwined with his, her lips promising pleasure. He needs her. He desires her.
She is dancing, the windblown wildflowers her partner. Her skirt is hiked high, tucked into her belt, her feet are bare, and her laughter infectious, a crown of daisies resting in her hair. She is breathtaking, his Lion, and his heart beats loudly, strongly, singing her name like an anthem.
He glances at his friend, who has stopped to take in the scene. Riordan, expression rapt, is watching her as well. He clasps his friend on the shoulder and they exchange a look that is more than friendship, they are brothers and comrades and they love his sweet Lion of Orlais. Love her, need her, want to feel her lips on theirs, her hands on their bodies, they want to rest in her velvet heat.
He smiles and Riordan laughs softly as they watch her bend and sway.
"Aye, she's as fine as a spring day," Riordan agrees without the words in Duncan's heart being spoken aloud.
She hears them approach and her face is alight with her love for them. She moves toward them, arms outstretched, not running but moving with the languid, liquid grace of a flower blowing in the soft wind.
"Dance with me," she whispers and her voice is low and sultry and full of passion. She leans up, catching his lips with her own and slowly sweeps his mouth with her tongue, tasting of strawberries and desire, her fingers light and teasing, caressing his cheek, trailing along his jaw and sliding along the edge of his collar, tickling and tantalizing and he can't help the groan as she dips lower, stroking lightly and firmly before winging away. "Let me lead."
She purrs against the warmth of his lips, whispering, "I love you my beloved Rivaini pirate." And he whispers in return, "I love you, my sweet Lion."
She laughs softly, moving away, fingers trailing across his chest as she circles him and when she presses against his back, he can feel her breasts against him, through his shirt and hers, and she leans closer, nipping at his ear, tongue warm and soft as it sweeps against his neck. He is hard, the length of him throbbing and pushing against the confines of his clothing. His growl is low and feral. He wants her now, here, standing as they are. He reaches for her but she is already gliding away, to wrap one long leg around Riordan's leg, her whisper carrying on the wind, "Dance with me." Her hands capturing his face and pulling him close, her lips soft and demanding, moving with gentle determination. "Let me lead," she whispers against his heated lips.
She slowly slides down the length of his body, her hands drifting like a breeze against him. His head falls back and his mouth whispers of need. She steps in close and whispers, "I love you my playful Peacock," and he groans as her fingers ripple along his length. "I love you, lass." And her lips are on his once more, harder, hotter and full of want, before she spins away from him.
She stands before them both, coming closer to them, moving with the dainty steps of a dancer. Her hands slide up the curve of her waist and to her breasts, stroking them, before she moves her hands to her shirt hem and slowly unlaces it. With a wicked smile and a twist of her arms, the shirt lands on the ground. She touches her breasts again and then reaches out and it is their hands on her breasts as her head falls back and she moans with pleasure. "Touch me," she begs, her hands cupping theirs and their fingers knead and pull and she can't help the thrust of her hips, wanting more.
And then she moves again, lithe and lissome, bending and swaying as she steps out of her skirt, wearing nothing at all underneath.
"Dance with me," she whispers and reaches for Duncan, her hands commanding his as she bites at his lip, moving into his touch. His fingers slip inside her warm, wet core and she hums her pleasure against his mouth. "Oh yes," she shivers and then, pulling his hand away, she turns to Riordan.
"Taste me," she commands, and moving his wet fingers to Riordan's lips, he feels an intense coiling as Riordan pulls them into his mouth, sucking gently. Riordan's eyes close as he tastes her sweet muskiness with a hint of strawberries and he needs more, needs to plunge his tongue into her depths but she is leading this dance and he can only growl with want as Duncan's fingers slip away.
"Undress him," she whispers and he moves willingly to bare his friend, quickly obeying her every desire. With sure and deft hands, he divests his friend of his clothing, waiting impatiently for his own freedom. She smiles as she reaches for Riordan, her breath now hot, eyes glazed over with wanton abandon.
"Touch me," she instructs him and takes his hand, skimming it along her sensuous curves and then he feels her warmth tightening around his two fingers and he needs her, is desperate for her, as he begins to run his thumb in gentle circles on her sleek wet core. She thrusts into his fingers, hips swaying. But then she is taking his hand again and raising it to Duncan's mouth.
"Taste me," she sighs and Riordan groans with pleasure as Duncan's mouth surrounds his fingers, pulling and tugging at them, tongue swirling around them.
"Undress him," she now whispers to Duncan and his fingers reach to do as she asks. His hands are shaking with need, hungering for her, his erection pulsing with his desire.
"I want you," she breathes into his ear and her hand plays with the planes and dips of his torso, running with purpose along the dark trail of hair, to a prize that he wants her to take.
She pulls them both to the blanket and Duncan falls back, his eyes wide and wanting. She prowls along the length of his body, nipping and licking with feline grace as her hair falls across him, a silken veil that tickles along his sensitive skin. He reaches for her but she smiles and shakes her head before her mouth comes to rest along his length, her breath blowing along the heat, cooling and teasing. She crawls up his body and perches above him, her smile sweet and wild and wanton as she gently lowers herself, taking him deep with a long, drawn out moan. He thrusts, his need so tightly wound that one stroke, one whisper of encouragement will undo him. She stops moving, but her inner walls are twitching and his fingers bite into the flesh of her hips to keep him centered.
"Touch me?" she asks Riordan and his hands reach out to stroke her breasts, greeted by her own. "Kiss me," she sighs and he does, his lips hard and hot against the sweetness of strawberries and silk. His growl is harsh and needy and she reaches down and then she is moving again and Duncan is groaning and bucking and he needs release.
His blood no longer languorous, but rushing hotly to the center of his engorged flesh where it is merged with hers, melded with hers, his groans have turned into growling moans of need and he sees as she bends to take Riordan deep in her mouth and he is fascinated as he watches the union of Riordan's length sliding with quickening pace, in and out of her mouth, watches the flick of her tongue and hears the mewl of her want.
He watches still as Riordan's head falls back, his mouth uttering, "Yes, lass," and "Please, Lion," and his hands tangling in her hair, pulling her closer and she is swallowing as Riordan cries out with abandon, he can hear her moans and just as he knows he can't last a minute longer, she is moving with a restless passion against him, muscles caressing him and his cry is torn from his throat as his own world explodes in light and heat, her name a triumphant cry on his lips. And she is calling out, her pleasure floating away on the wings of the wind, her muscles shuddering and twitching and draining him.
They lay on the blanket, panting and breathless, their world shattered and unfocused and the warmth of the breeze a gentle reminder of spring. Duncan is spent, sated and drowsy. Riordan is already sliding into sleep. Leonie is busy braiding daisies into his hair and Duncan grins as he begins to doze.
Her breath is sweet and tastes of strawberries as she leans down for a kiss. "Dance with me," she whispers. "I'll let you lead," she promises and he is already stirring as she bends down to kiss Riordan and he smiles as he hears the same request and watches as Riordan pulls her down for another kiss.
It is Spring, a time of celebrating and strawberries and daisies and dancing.
It is Spring and Leonie is dancing, leading them, and the music from the village rises on the breath of the wind.