A Dark Future, a dragon age fanfic

Just something that was sitting on my hard drive for the past seven or so months. The idea came from a Kink Meme request. Nothing that hasn't been done before by writers much more talented than I. Anyway, I offer it to those of us who enjoy the F!Cousland and Zevran pairing.

Please leave a review if you feel inspired to comment on what I have written. Constructive criticism is always welcomed.

Lyrics taken from Korn "Alone I Break" and Mudvayne "1000 Mile Journey".

Standard Disclaimer: Bioware Rocks!

A Dark Future

Emantsal

Ferelden… it smelled of wet dogs… wet dogs and finality. A week now, a week in this backwoods hell hole of a country and he missed his home. He missed the smells of the ocean, the exotic spices of the market, the beautiful city he knew like the back of his own hand. Regret upon regret… But, no more. He was resolved to see this through. The end was within sight.

Soon it would all be over. Soon he would be free. Free from the blackness that surrounded his heart, the curse of living. Free from the memories. Memories of when he felt alive, of when he felt hope, when he felt joy, when he felt… Free from a future without her.

He sat in the darkened corner of the inn's common room, sipping the best wine the barkeep had to offer and watching the evening's activity. The locals were easy to spot, and so were those traveling through, like himself. The evening was winding down when the small group of travelers entered the bar area and took a seat near by. Cloaks puller tight against the evening's cold, hoods obscuring their faces, they settled around a table on rough tavern benches and signaled for a round of ale.

Three humans and a dwarf, two male, two female. Part of a mercenary force from the amount of weapons they carried. Over the course of the next hour the group drank and quietly talked. One by one, they drifted upstairs until only one woman remained. Slowly sipping her ale, she wrote in a small book, a small pink tongue often peeking out of the side of her mouth as she concentrated on her task.

She glanced up and found him observing her. A wry smile flitted across her lips as she raised her mug in a mock salute before returning to whatever she was doing.

Light from the table lamp flickered across classic features and caused her hair to gleam like gold, looking almost like a halo as it fell in soft curls around her face and neck. Again she looked up and found him looking at her, only this time she returned his frank perusal with one of her own.

A golden goddess, the complete opposite of the dark haired Antivan beauty that haunted his nightmares. Human, not an Elven lass of fire and temptations. A fair haired beauty with emerald eyes… an interesting distraction.

Picking up his glass, he stood and approached her. Either she would be receptive to his advances or she would decline his company. Take your chances and your pleasures where you find them for they do not happen often…take your pleasures before…

"Surely it is a sin against the Maker for such a beautiful woman to drink alone." When she didn't readily object, he moved to sit beside her on the bench.

"Then surely it is the Maker's doing that such a handsome man is here to provide assistance and keep me from… at least one more sin," she replied boldly, closing the book she was writing in and casting him an altogether admiring look. She raised her tankard in a toast and said, "Here's to the Maker, and more… pleasurable sins."

"Salute," he replied, joining her in the toast.

"Bar's closing folks. If you want another, you'll have to get it to go," the barkeep called from behind the bar. Looking around he realized they were the last two left.

"Perhaps you would care join me for a glass of wine upstairs," he daringly suggested, "before retiring for the night?"

"How can I say no to the man who saved me from a most dreadful sin," she answered, brazenly moistening her lips with the tip of a pink tongue.

He signaled to the barkeep for another bottle of wine and within minutes they were in his room. A banked fire illuminated the space with a reddish glow. A small lantern on one of the bedside tables lit a corner of the room, showing the sparse furnishing. A small table and two chairs faced the fireplace. The bed in the corner looked comfortable with a thick mattress and clean sheets. He walked to the table and placed the wine bottle and two glasses on it before proceeding to open the bottle and pour two glasses of the red liquid. Placing a glass in her hands and taking one himself, he raised it in a silent toast before bringing the glass to his lips. Long moments they stared at each other before he took her glass and placed it with his own on the table.

Desire, anticipation, need… the usual feelings women had when he was near. He knew how he affected women, and men for that matter. But there was something else in her eyes, something that almost spoke to him, something in those green depths of her eyes tugged at a memory. He reached to remove her wrap and lay it over the back of a chair. The wicked looking daggers crisscrossing her back gleamed sharp and deadly in the fire light. They rivaled his own Crow blades.

Unspoken, they began removing their own weapons. A small smile played on his lips as he noticed her moving to place one of her blades on the bedside table within easy reach.

He moved up behind her and reached to place his own blade next to hers, in the process pressing close against her back, his breath hot on the back of her neck.

Reaching up he slowly removed the pins holding her hair up, letting the heavy mass of pale silk spill over her shoulders and down her back, the smell of wildflowers and honey teasing his nose. Pushing it to one side he slowly ran warm lips and moist tongue up a slim neck to a delicate ear. She tasted of sunlight and delicate woman. A small gasp, a slight shiver as she leaned her head back to allow him easier access.

Time had no meaning as he took his leisure, slowly removing her clothes, appreciating the pale beauty of her skin, glowing like pearl in the lamp light. He let his lips slide down a shoulder as he pushed her armor down long, toned arms. Rough hands stroked down her chest, sliding the leather down over high firm breasts swollen and heavy with desire, nipples pebbled with need.

He felt the tremors course through her body as he lightly caressed the undersides of her breasts, hands continuing to slowly push the armor down her body. Down over a smooth flat stomach, down over gently flared hips and long legs to pool at her feet, all the while hot lips sucking and nipping a soft, pale neck, a creamy shoulder.

Stepping out of the armor around her feet she turned in his arms and began her own slow removal of his clothes. Mimicking his earlier actions, she learned close and ran a delicate tongue up along his jaw to swirl teasingly around a sensitive ear. Her hands were firm and insistent as she began removing his armor.

Her mouth began to follow her hands as she shoved the offending leather out of the way of her searching mouth. Circling, nipping, licking… her mouth moved slowly down his chest, tongue teasing a taut nipple as she pushed his leathers off and onto the floor. Light pressure as her fingers expertly attacked the laces of his britches.

The pressure had build up to an almost painful pleasure as her fingers skimmed his throbbing length. Her lips touched his as she reached inside and stroked the length of him.

The kiss became harder, breaths became ragged as all remaining clothes were soon gone and the bed sagged under their weight. He stretched out beside her and puller her close. Lips met and tongues stroked. He caressed her body as he slowly moved his mouth down to nibble and suckle the raspberry hued tips of her breasts. First one, then the other. Skin so perfectly soft. His free hand kneaded the heavy swollen globes of flesh and flicked the tip of a nipple before beginning an agonizingly slow decent. Her fingers tangled in the long blonde strands of his hair, seemingly to keep his mouth at her breasts. Soft moans and hitched breaths escaped her open lips, little cries of pleasure she didn't try to hide.

His fingers descended to delve between smooth, firm thighs, stroking the heated flesh there, pushing her legs open. She quivered, thrusting her hips up as he slid a finger into her wet flesh. In and out, around, finding the hidden gem that awaited his touch. Teasing, caressing, only to withdraw and enter her honeyed tunnel. Strangled moans echoed in the room as she writhed in pleasure. Soon his lips followed the path his hand had taken earlier and soon replaced his fingers, his tongue exploring the sweet secrets hidden between her legs. She moaned and thrashed, lifting her hips to his mouth as he sucked and licked the jewel of her desire, fingers sliding in and out, bringing her to orgasm over and over, sweet nectar coating his tongue. Muffled screams filled the room and when he looked up he had to laugh. She had a pillow over her mouth, screaming into it. He'd wondered why her hands had quit pulling at his hair…

Crawling back up her sweat slicked body he pulled the pillow away and greedily plundered her lips, her juice dripping from his chin. His cock throbbed for release at the junction of her thighs, and he was teasing her heat with the tip. The lovely lady had other ideas however, and deftly managed to roll them over, effectively pinning him underneath her.

A wicked smile and a gleam in her eyes caused his breath to hitch as she slowly began to work her way down his body. His heart thudded in his chest as she nibbled and licked her way closer and closer to his painful erection. Closer she came, but never actually touched. Moving lower still she gently teased his heavy sacs with a wet tongue, hot breath and soft hands driving him closer to the edge. She sucked and tongued his balls, taking them into her mouth one at a time, swirling her tongue over the sensitive flesh. Her hands delicately caressed the insides of his thighs, fluttered over his abs and finally moved to grip his throbbing flesh, setting a slow pace, pumping up and down. Slowly her mouth, her tongue moved up his length until hot breath enveloped the throbbing head. Lips touched, a quick kiss on the head and his hips wanted to buck up. He stilled his body, hands fisting the sheets to remain still.

A warm mouth slowly descended, a very talented tongue swirling round and round. Little nibbles and kisses, taking more and more until his entire length was buried in her tight throat. Now he couldn't keep his hips still, couldn't keep his hands from fisting in her hair as he tried to stroke deeper into the warmth of her mouth. She gripped his hips and moved up and down his shaft, blowing his mind, taking him to the brink before slowing down and giving his cock one last little nibble…

He gripped her shoulders and puller her up, rolling them over to settle quickly between her pale thighs, surging into her in one stroke, burying himself in the tightness and heat of her body. He was too close to take it slow, sensing she was, too. Her long legs wrapped around his waist, her arms around his back, fingernails digging painfully into his skin, pain and pleasure urging him on, faster, harder… He pumped into her, almost savage now as he pounded into her tight cunt. She was biting down on her bottom lip to stop from screaming as she climaxed over and over on his thick shaft, the walls of her sex squeezing and cumming on his cock. The exquisite pleasure was too much, and he arched his back and rammed his cock deep as he emptied himself in her. It seemed forever that his cock throbbed and spurted and he was a little light headed as he collapsed on top of her.

He finally rolled away and stared up at the darkened ceiling. Beside him the woman seemed lost in her own thoughts. In a few minutes she was the first to get up and begin dressing. In the silence, there were no words he could say. It had been what it was – sex. Really good sex, but just sex none the less. There was nothing left in him. He was empty, a husk of a man…

Rising, he helped her gather her things and soon armor was back in place and daggers were placed in their holders. Taking her cloak from where he'd laid it over the back of a chair, he draped it over her shoulders and at least saw her to the door. Her hand was on the knob when she hesitated.

"Thank you," she murmured before opening the door and stepping into the dark of the hall.

He shut the door and leaned back against it, looking at the tangled sheets of the bed. The wine was still on the table and he quickly finished the glass he'd poured earlier. Walking back to the bed he stepped on something and looked down to see the small book the woman had been writing in earlier. It had fallen out of the pocket of her cloak.

He knew it was none of his business, but there were still hours before morning and he didn't want to sleep. She was there, waiting for him in his dreams. Waiting in a river of red that flowed from her throat, professions of love spilling from blood soaked lips…

He dressed in a worn robe and sat down at the table, a glass of wine in one hand. He opened the book and discovered it was a journal of sorts. No, not a journal. A book of poetry? Almost every page was covered in fine handwriting. He flipped to the last thing she'd written and began reading.

Pick me up
Been bleeding too long
Right here, right now
I'll stop it somehow
I will make it go away
Can't be here no more
Seems this is the only way
I will soon be gone
These feelings will be gone
These feelings will be gone

Odd that the words of a stranger could so perfectly describe how he felt… odd that for a brief time, the feelings that had driven him to this place in time had vanished. He stayed up most of the night reading and drinking. The last page of the book disturbed him…

A journey of a thousand miles, it starts with one step
Plowing out the rows, the bleeding of the rose
A butterfly's wings can start tornados don't you know
Harvesting the souls, burying the bones

The next morning looking in the mirror, the memory tugged at him again, the emotions he'd seen in her eyes. He knew them. They were there, staring back at him, and he quickly looked away. He left early to meet with his contact in the city. His bid for a contract had been accepted. It would be his last… He had meant to leave the little book with the innkeeper, but at the last minute, slipped it into his pack.

:::{**^**}:::

Her body throbbed and ached in all the right places. Her lover, Maker… she didn't even know his name... It was probably a good thing that they had stayed anonymous. If she knew who he was she would be tempted to ask for a repeat performance. She fell backwards onto the mattress and stared up at the dark ceiling, waiting for the voices to come.

They'd come straight to Denerim from Orzammar. She'd pushed them all hard, a sense of urgency growing day by day. From sun up till sun down they'd pushed the limits of endurance, pressing long past the point of exhaustion. In Denerim she'd accepted that her companions were at the breaking point and had taken rooms at a local inn for the two days she planed on being in the city. On their way to look for the Dalish Elves, she knew there were certain items she needed that would only be found in one of the larger cities, items that Bodahn didn't carry in his stock wagon.

Alistair had said that those who joined the Warden's during a blight could have a rougher time of it. Dreams that were more vivid, more disturbing as the Archdemon spoke to the gathering horde. If it were only the dreams… She hadn't told him, but lately she'd been feeling them, in her head, the darkspawn… Not words really, just feelings. Rage, a driving need to kill, a hatred that consumed, a desolation of soul and spirit that was almost crippling. Sometimes she thought she was going insane. The fury, the hatred she felt from the darkspawn and the Archdemon, they burned inside her soul and ate away at her sanity. Even more frightening, it called to her, speaking to the hurt, despair, and rage that had become a living entity within her psyche.

Words she'd written just hours earlier… And then, he'd appeared, and for a brief time the feelings had left her. If only he could… But no, the world didn't work that way. There were no miracles. The Maker had abandoned them, and not even Andraste could save her...

In the cold light of morning the desolation of waking in a world gone mad returned, and she could think of no way to stop it save death. For her there would be no peace, no waking from this living nightmare until she drew breath no longer. Her duty, sworn in the life blood of her father, was set in stone and she would see it through to the end. She was a Cousland, and Couslands always did their duty.