I own Michael and Lilith, all else to Bioware and EA

A/N...

Hi there. Me again. This is a very dark piece full of sex, murder, and politics so abandon hope all ye who enter here. I'm not sure how long the story is going to be, but I promise it will be finished before the end of time :)

Warning: Incestuous Sex and dark futures'. (Please enjoy and try not to leave a mess ;) )

"And so is the Golden City blackened

With each step you take in My hall.

Marvel at perfection, for it is fleeting.

You have brought Sin to Heaven

And doom upon all the world."

-Threnodies 8:13

It begins with sex.

It's how all these stories start; stories of death and destruction, of murder and politics, of ironic falls and vengeful returns. It does not begin with giant rats or meeting in a tavern; no reader, it begins with sex.

And not gentle sex, no. This is rough sex, this is hard sex. This is the kind of sex that is frantic. One does not even bother getting undressed to have this sex. This is not two bodies moving in tandem in a sacred yet forbidden dance. This is not sex for love. It is sex for power, for control.

But, how does this sort of sex begin, you wonder? It can begin as innocuous as anything: a longing glance here, a nod of a head there and before you know it, the two are screwing like rabbits in a bush.

She pulls him into an empty room and before the door is closed completely, he launches at her. His mouth finds hers' and their tongues duel for dominance as they stumble further into the darkened room. Their hands are on each other, roaming the others bodies, grasping at leather tunics and pulling off linen undergarments. She is put on a desk and he dives down, his tongue finding her core. She moans and laces her fingers in his black hair, moaning the name of the Maker in ecstasy.

With a tug of his hair, he pulls up, thrusting his length into her. She gasps and wraps her legs about him, locking her ankles together. As he pounds into her, she nips and bites at the side of his neck, grazing her teeth along his tanned skin. He smirks and whispers into her ear, "who is like the Maker?"

She smirks and with the quickness that only rouges could manage, strikes her hand down at his member. She grasps the base of it, squeezing gently. His eyes bulge and she offers a throaty chuckle, "who is like Andraste?"

He grows and tries to pull back, but her legs remain locked against him. "Sister," he groans, offering a sideways glance.

She smirks against his cheek and digs her nails into his sensitive flesh, chuckling when he yelps. "Who is like Andraste, brother?" she whispers again, increasing the pressure on the base of his member. "Who offers mercy to those who," she stops and sucks on his earlobe, before continuing, punctuating the last words, "need it?"

He gasps again, groaning against the pain. "L-Lilith," he stutters out.

Lilith smirks and releases her hold on his manhood. "Good boy," she mutters as she pull back.

Looking into her eye, his harden and he clasps a hand round her neck, applying enough pressure to force her legs apart. He steps back and pulls her off the table, forcing her down onto the cold, stone floor. He releases his hold on her neck and uses his body weight to keep her down, his goatee rubbing up against her smooth cheek. "And who is like the Maker?" he growls at her. "Who is husband to the Prophet Andraste?"

"You," Lilith moans and arches her back raising her rear up towards his stiff manhood.

"Say it, sister," he grounds out, his voice deep and husky with desire.

"Michael," Lilith breathes. As soon as the last syllable leaves her cute mouth, Michael thrusts his length into her again, thrusting hard and fast. She responds in kind and pushes back against him, with just as much passion. It is not long before he thrusts himself deep into her womb and releases his seed. His body shutters as he releases and she mewls at the feeling of him coating her insides. He leans back and his manhood pops out, spurting two final ropes of seed onto the back of her leather tunic.

They stay like this for some insurmountable time, recovering from their orgasm. Slowly, they come down from their highs and begin putting their clothing back together. Lilith pulls her linen undergarments up, trapping Michael's seed within her, while Michael stuffs his member back within the confines of his garments. Michael readjusts his tunic, his fingers brushing along the bite marks on the side of his neck. His mind floods with the memories of their actions and his member swells, longing to be touched again. He casts his grey eyes towards Lilith, tracing the curves of her body as she struggles with a strap on her studded leather armour.

Stepping towards her, Michael grasps her hips, pressing his groin against her rear. Lilith gasps at the sudden contact before she melts into her brother's arms. "Mm, we just finished, brother," she says as she grinds her rear against his member.

Michael groans softly, bucking his hips at her. He dips his head down to her ear, tickling it with his breath. "What can I say, sister," he whispers huskily, "when I lay my eyes on you, my mind is consumed with such impure thoughts."

Lilith smirks and bites her bottom lip, enjoying the feeling of Michael's thick member straining to be free. "If you continue, brother," she says arching her back and pressing her rear harder against him, "we'll never leave this room."

Michael growls and starts to move forward. He pushes his sister with his hands and his legs, leading her to the stone wall before them. Lilith gasps as her rounded face is pushed into the cold stone, her rear protruding outwards and Michael's whiskers tickling her cheek. "Who said I wanted to leave?" he growls into her ear as he roughly pulls down her undergarments again.

His rough, calloused hands run along the curve of her rear, slipping in between her thighs, gently brushing against her wet sex. His fingers trail slowly along the folds of her hot sex as his own groans in protest, yearning to be freed again. He pulls his face from hers and kneels before her exposed womanhood like a member of the faithful praying before the holy altar. His tongue darts out and the room is filled with her moans as he laps at her core, tasting his own seed as it seeps out of her. Lilith raises her hands to brace the wall before her, lest she slide down it and quiver on the floor from the attention her brother's tongue is giving against her. She sighs and mewls in pleasure, feeling the subtle bumps on his tongue scrap against her walls.

"Michael," she breathes and wiggles her rear from side to side. "Take me how the Maker took Andraste. Please, Michael, I need to feel you in me again." She turns her head slightly, her shimmering blue eyes glancing at him from over her shoulder. His tongue pulls back and away, only to be replaced by the angry purple head of his member. With one hand on her hip and the other on his member to steady it, Michael slowly sheaths himself inside her.

And they move together as one, considerably slower than their previous session just moments before. It is here that they move as if they were participating in an ancient, yet sacred dance. It is here that Michael pulls Lilith back, so that his front rests against her back. It is here that their eyes lock and his lips find hers tenderly. He thrusts long and deep into her and she reaches her hands back to tangle in his hair.

Even as he releases his seed inside her again, neither realizes the path that the Maker set them on that morning. Neither knew that they would soon be the last of the Couslands. Neither knew that they would have to suffer and bleed for a nation plagued by ancient monsters. Neither knew of the dark future that lay out before them like a twisting and narrow road through a thick wood. Treachery would come to their doorstep and they will pay it back a thousand fold. Sin will come to their thin slice of Heaven and they will visit doom upon all the world.