A/N - Not even gonna lie, this is pure Loghain smut, because hurrrrrrrrr he's so hot. Warnings for dubious consent.
The Warden-Commander was infuriating.
Her Orlesian manners offended at every encounter. Two-faced, indirect, mocking, supercilious. He hated the way she talked, the way she walked, the way she tipped her head to listen to him with a sarcastic smile on her lips. He hated the way her lips always looked full and soft and wet and abnormally pink. She must color them, some ridiculous Orlesian artifice.
Not half his age, but she knew everything. Maker forbid he give direction, or make a suggestion, or draw upon his literal decades of experience leading men in combat, oh no. She had everything completely under control. He might as well retire to the fireside and enjoy a hot toddy in his dotage, for all the care she gave his opinion. Ridiculous, arrogant, insufferable child.
And yet, uncomfortably, nothing like a child at all. Little girls don't have lush rounded breasts and deadly curves for hips. Little girls don't make off color comments and then glance at you sideways while they lick their lips. Little girls don't stare at you with a threat and a promise that can only be answered with sweat and skin. Little girls have skinned knees and pigtails, not pouting lips and the hottest arse in Ferelden – or Orlais, he'd wager.
How many times had he nearly talked himself into asking her to release him to Denerim, to represent the Wardens at court? Anora desired it, he desired it, and the Warden-Commander clearly had no use for him. And yet as soon as his argument took shape in his mind, he talked himself out of it again. How could he leave Amaranthine in the hands of this Orlesian vixen? He had a duty to his country and his daughter to remain – stalwart, steadfast, and suspicious. Ever vigilant against treachery and treason. She could not send him scampering back to Denerim like a blushing choir boy, no matter how indecently she behaved. He was a stronger man than that.
At least, she was relatively quiet. He wouldn't have been able to live a day with her, if she were constantly screeching and squawking like Eamon's little peahen, but the Warden-Commander's voice had a low, smoky quality to it that would have been very pleasing to his ears indeed, if it came with a Fereldan accent. She moved quietly, too, stalking around Vigil's Keep like a fox on the hunt, often appearing at his elbow before he realized she was in the room. At least the taint in their blood gave him some warning, but with other Wardens around, the effect was muddied. He did not like it one bit when she snuck up on him.
Speak of the devil…
"Loghain?" She never bothered to knock, but the lilted question at the end of his name was a little more courtesy than she usually afforded him. He looked up from the book he had not been reading, and scowled.
"What is it?" he barked, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest. A slow smile spread across her lips, as if he had answered exactly as she wanted him to. Another game.
She grabbed the lone wooden chair from his tiny dining table and dragged it over to his reading nook.
"May I sit down?" she asked, unnecessarily, as she dropped gracefully into the seat.
"No," he replied dryly.
"Thank you." She made a habit of answering as if he had given the reply she desired, no matter what he actually said. It made him want to shake her by the shoulders.
"Are you hard of hearing, Warden-Commander?"
She rolled her eyes and tipped her head. "You should be grateful that I correct your manners in my mind. The Loghain of my imagination is as charming as he is impressive."
Empty flattery. If she really felt impressed by him, she would heed his advice on occasion.
"What do you want?"
"I hoped for your counsel on a matter."
You could have knocked him over with a feather. Since when did the all-knowing Orlesian need counsel? It was if she had read his mind – Maker forbid! It must be a trick. She leaned forward and braced her elbows on her knees. Her form-fitting leather tunic was cut a little low in the front, offering him a tempting view of her… what did the Orlesians call it? Décolletage? He resolutely kept his eyes on hers.
"Yes?" he snarled. She frowned, her dark brows drawing together across her smooth, tan forehead, and she caught her bottom lip in her teeth.
"I'm to meet with the nobles of Amaranthine next month to accept their oaths of fealty, but I know little about Fereldan manners, other than that my own are likely to offend." She offered him a self-deprecating smile, followed by a small shrug that was so very Orlesian, it made him grit his teeth. "Since you are the only one here with real experience in Fereldan…society…I was hoping you could offer some guidance. I wish this event to be as advantageous and brief as possible."
Loghain did not bother to refrain from rolling his eyes.
"You could start by not behaving as if the very idea of Fereldan society is as laughable as a flea circus," he growled. "Whether or not an Orlesian can acknowledge anything beyond the tip of her nose, there is a wide world of culture beyond Val Royeaux."
He saw the flicker of her jaw when she clenched her teeth.
"An excellent point, Loghain. I must adjust my attitude." She said it lightly, but her eyes flashed dangerously.
Loghain lifted a brow and harrumphed. "I have no doubt that you could sooner adjust your eye color than your attitude, Warden-Commander. Have you any skill as an actress?"
It was an insulting question. Loghain knew enough about Orlais to know that actresses were women of ill-repute, renowned as much for their skill in the bedroom as on the stage. He was gratified by the bright blush that stained her cheeks, but he was not prepared for her response.
"As a matter of fact, I do, Warden! Would you care for a demonstration?"
"By all means," he replied. He would not back down from a challenge, not from her.
She took him by surprise, though, when she lunged forward and kneeled between his spread thighs.
"Maker's breath! What are you doing, child?" he gasped, pushing against her shoulders, but she stubbornly looped her hands around his ankles and dug in her heels.
"Demonstrating," she snapped.
"Surely this can't be your plan to secure oaths of fealty," he groaned, as she rubbed her cheek against his inner thigh. She laughed then, a husky chuckle that made his cock twitch.
"No, I don't intend to buy Amaranthine's loyalty with my tongue, but I'd have yours."
She looked up at him then, her blue eyes wide and serious. Her dark hair fell in waves to her comely, well-formed shoulders and Maker take him if he didn't want to accept her offer, but it was wrong in every sense of the word. He grabbed her arms and tried to force her to her feet.
"This is entirely unnecessary." He attempted to lift her but his position left him little leverage and she was strong, hanging onto his legs like an octopus.
"Loghain." Her Orlesian accent muddied the transition between the syllables and irritated his ears. "Sometimes the unnecessary is a lot of fun." She winked at him and rubbed her cheek against his thigh again, then turned her face and nipped sharply.
"I meant that you don't need to whore yourself to secure my loyalty," he snapped viciously. Despite his brain's total lack of enthusiasm for this encounter, his cock was responding to her touch. The traitor.
The Warden-Commander laughed. "You think calling me a whore will send me back to my rooms with my tail between my legs? I've been called worse by better men, Loghain. And I happen to know several whores with more pristine reputations than yours." She shifted forward and began unlacing his breeches.
"Enough!" Loghain pushed her back on her heels. His erection strained against his leather leggings and his face flushed when she glanced at it significantly.
"I haven't had nearly enough," she purred. "You don't have to like me to enjoy me, Warden. Just sit back and let me… demonstrate."
Loghain peered at her in consternation. "Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?"
The Warden-Commander laughed, and for once there was no mocking edge to her mirth. "An orgasm, hopefully? I assume you're enough of a gentleman that you'll return the favor."
She never ceased to surprise him.
"You can't be serious, Commander."
She grinned. "Are you so insensible to your own charms, Loghain? I've been coming on to you for weeks, surely you've noticed."
He had, but he thought it all a twisted Orlesian plot to weaken his vigilance. He wasn't sure he was wrong.
"This is inappropriate. You're young enough to be my daughter."
The Warden-Commander rolled her eyes. "And I'm sure your daughter has given a blow job in her life, so get over it."
Although a less arousing sentence could not have issued from her lips, the sensation of her deft fingers again unlacing his fly stirred his cock anyway. She was astoundingly efficient, quickly reaching in his pants and twisting his member free of his breeches. He moaned softly as she licked her palm and then stroked it firmly up and down his shaft.
"Let me take you, Loghain. No tricks, no games. Just fun."
She turned her face and nuzzled his cock, snaking her tongue out and caressing him with quick, wet licks. He couldn't bring himself to give permission, but he sat back in his chair and spread his legs wider, and she grinned.
Maker's breath! He was not prepared for the sensation of engulfing heat and moisture when she plunged to the base of his shaft, her nose nestling against his belly before she slowly dragged her lips back up to the head of his cock. He hissed in surprise, his fingers twisting in her dark, silky hair. Her tongue was unbelievably talented as it swirled around his dick, so soft, wet, and firm, almost unsettling in its ability to wring pleasure from him. She gripped his member with a juicy palm and stroked insistently, while her mouth chased her fingers with excruciating suction. It was beyond intense. Beyond imagining. This infuriating, ridiculous, Orlesian Warden was giving him the best blow job of his life, and he was nearly too lost in an erotic haze to contemplate her motives.
"This isn't… right," he growled, gently pushing her hair out of her face as she swallowed his cock enthusiastically. She hummed her response, and the vibrations shook him deep into his balls, wrenching an agonized moan from his lips.
"We shouldn't be doing this," he panted. She pulled up, slowly. Her lips and tongue caressed every inch of his shaft before she placed a slurpy kiss upon the head of his cock, and then she looked up at him and grinned.
"Do you want me to stop?" She pumped his dick with her hand as she asked, raising one eyebrow skeptically.
"No," he growled, and reached for the back of her head, pushing her face back down towards his crotch. Her response was a rich cascade of laughter that brought a smirk to his lips, then another groan as her mouth consumed him once again.
Finally giving over to the experience, Loghain sat back and let himself truly enjoy the Warden-Commander's ministrations. She went all in, he had to give her that. Lips, hands, tongue, teeth: all the weapons in her arsenal were deployed against his dick in a sexual onslaught that left him rigid and panting, torn between the need for release and the desire to make the pleasure last. When he couldn't take any more, he growled a strangled warning, but to his surprise, the Warden-Commander did not back away in the slightest. Instead, she sucked him all the way into her throat, her tongue sinuating frantically against his shaft, and when he came, the base of his cock bucked against her teeth. The sensation overwhelmed him; it was if she had sucked every ounce of pleasure within him, from the tip of his toes to top of his head, and swallowed it.
"Maker's breath!" he muttered, leaning his head back and staring at the ceiling. The Warden-Commander trilled a very Orlesian giggle, and he closed his eyes, appalled at himself. How could he have let her do…that? He felt her lick him clean from balls to tip and then tuck his cock back in his pants, although she didn't bother to lace them.
"Well? Is it my turn?"
He sat up and looked at her, incredulous.
"Madame, you must be joking. Get out."
She glared at him in open-mouthed shock. "You can't be serious."
"I most certainly am! You come into my quarters uninvited, you assault me over my protestations, and then you expect me to service you? This is a Grey Warden keep, not a brothel. Get out of my sight before I report you to Weisshaupt!"
She placed her hands on his knees and pushed herself gracefully into a standing position, staring down at him with a curious, calculating expression. Then, she shrugged and turned around, her hips swaying in her tight leather breeches as she offered an irresistible view of her ass. She glanced at him over her shoulder with a knowing smile.
"As you say, Warden. Good night."