Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age: Origins, Bioware does. I'm not making ANY money whatsoever off of this fanfiction.
This is the first fanfic I've ever posted----so be kind to me, please.
***
The sun was nearly set, and I found myself doggedly backtracking that brambly, beaten path. My worries kept me from obsessing over my tired legs, at least. The Circle had been only a few hours away when I had gone to swat an insect from my neck and, much to my dismay, discovered that something quite dear to me was missing from its rightful place in my ear.
At long last, I saw the remnants of my earlier scuffle with a foolish band of scavengers I had caught harassing some poor farmer. I paid no mind to their eerily still masses, spread out across the ground as though they had always been there.
I sprinted, sloshing through damp ground, eager to know the fate of my lost possession. I immediately went about replaying the event in my mind, attempting to recall every inch that I had tread. After remembering an instant where one of the men had managed to get a cheap shot on the side of my head, I searched for where that had happened.
My eyes stuck to a certain puddle like a magnet, and I decided to act on my first whim. I sank to my knees, thinking on what to do. I could have easily evaporated the water, had I any mana left. That was unfortunately not true for me, and I wasn't about to easily resort back to old habits I had kicked. And so, with a weary yet determined heart, I got to searching.
An ugly mix of desperation and panic circled in the pit of my stomach as I scraped through the mud with my fingers. I had no care for soiling my clothes as the filthy water splashed up my gloves. The only thing that was on my mind was finding that which I had lost. It wasn't really that it was worth all that much, not that its material value had ever crossed my mind. It was the only thing that I had to remind me that my affections had been returned. It has to be somewhere, I thought to myself, repeating the words over and over again. A lump grew in my throat just as quickly as the tears had been welling in my eyes. Everything was blurry. Each pebble my nails snagged against made my heart jerk, and after time and time again of disappointment, infantile fury quickly replaced the sadness. My fury had blinded me so completely, I had hardly noticed when something pressed down onto my back.
"Have you lost something, stranger?" I heard behind me. It came from the owner of the boot that was digging into my spine. I stilled, blinking the tears out of my eyes, trying to come to my senses. After a moment, I thought I was imagining the Antivan accent. His name swirled inside of my mouth, but I realized that the shock had left me too dumb to speak. "You know, you are in quite the compromising position. An unarmed mage, face down in the mud."
"Stranger, I hope you understand that a mage doesn't need his staff to be quite the threat against your life?" I asked, forcing more articulation into my voice than it deserved.
"Oh ho, that I do know. I also know that you lack the energy to do anything other than singe my hair, considering the effort you put into ending the lives of those miserable bandits. Fighting solo does not a good blood mage make."
After laughing in that all too familiar way, he ordered me to my feet. My head spun, nauseating me. My hood was torn back before I could say anything against it. The fear of death was replaced by an anxiety far worse, particularly when I was blinded by a cloth that was skillfully tied around my head. I expected him to bind my wrists with something similar, but instead he held them firmly together with his own hand. The other wrapped around me, playfully pressing a dagger against my cheek. The metal felt terrifying, but I couldn't help myself from pressing further against it as a cat would a loving hand.
My trembling became pathetic as I felt his breath against my neck, whispering. "Is this what you were so desperately searching for, my silly little elf? What could possibly be so important about such a cheap trinket? Hmm?" While he spoke, he pressed something against my lips, rolling it gently back and forth. Immediately, I knew it was the earring. Its silver had been just as cold and enticing as the blade had been. Though I was happy to know of its location, my lips seemed to ignore it in favor of the gloved fingers that held it. He still held the pommel of the dagger in that same hand, carefully keeping the sharp end away from my face. All too soon, he withdrew his hand from me, and I listened as he pocketed the earring.
"If it's so cheap, maybe you should just give it back to me and let me go," I said in a way that would convince no one, trying not to smile. I hissed, sucking in my ragged breath, as the cold sting of the dagger returned to tease my jugular. I leaned away from it, against the shoulder of my attacker, only allowing myself to be exposed further.
"You certainly don't act like you're trying to get away from me. Tell me, do you always prefer to simply submit to your pursuer? My, my, but you are the silly elf. The road is no place for you!" As he spoke, he slowly slid the point further down my throat until it reached my collar bone. "And besides," he said more seriously. "why would I want to let you go? You are a difficult one to find, my Grey Warden."
My knees buckled at the sincerity in his voice, pressing as close to him as I could manage. I wanted to devour the lips that I knew were so close, but instead I waited. I sank my teeth into my own, finding it difficult to bear the situation. "Zevran," I let escape under my breath, feeling the tears welling up behind my blindfold.
"Zevran? Who is this Zev-rahn? Why would someone you know attack you in such a barbaric manner?" His humorous attitude was hard to deal with when all I wanted was to confess how much I had missed him.
"I choose the worst lovers; what can I say?" I spat, almost meaning it somewhere in the sentence. I instantly regretted my words, wanting to skewer myself onto the dagger's edge.
"Well, perhaps I can be more than this Zevran fellow, yes? Allow me to prove it to you. Not that you have much of a choice in the matter at this point. Walk," he ordered casually.
Though he tried to continue as though the remark hadn't hurt him, I could feel it in the way he handled me. His grip was less firm. Weak, even. His hands gently guided me as we walked off of the path. Softly, his words warned me of obstacles in my way, mindful of me.
I could hear the crackling of a fire as we went on. Soon I could even feel its warmth through my heavy cloak and feel the flames kissing my cheeks.
I swallowed as he stopped and withdrew from me; standing alone and blind was more terrifying than the dagger against my throat. I listened as he set down my staff and pack. It took me a moment to realize that I could move my hands freely without him behind me, but a part of me didn't want to move them. I kept them behind my back as if he would be happy that I did so when he returned to me. I could have even taken off the blindfold, the thing that was frightening me above all else, but I didn't. Was he waiting for me to do something, I asked myself. I felt like such a fool.
Just before I summoned enough courage to speak, he did so for me. "Take off that cloak you are wearing." As I complied, I gauged that he was roughly three feet from my front, sitting. Even without sight, I felt like I was in a spotlight. The fire was blazing against my back, pushing me forward, it seemed. "And the rest," he continued. I bit into that same spot on my lip, clumsily undoing the buckles around my waist. I lifted the robes above my head and then began to peel off my gloves. I reluctantly bent down to untie my boots, expecting to feel the fire nip at my naked ass as I did so. However, that wasn't the case. Just as my brain was able to process the thought, I felt a hand slither down the back of my thigh. I jumped as though it really had been a snake, nearly toppling over. I smiled at the sound of his laughter, happy to hear it once again, no matter how crude.
"I'm sorry, did I forget to mention that you could leave those on?" he asked, pressing his hips against my backside. The hardness beneath the fabric was all too apparent, and I made the mistake of mechanically pushing back against it. He moved back, denying me the pleasure of grinding onto his hard-on. "Mmm, so eager! What would this Zevran think if he saw you begging for another man's cock?"
My face filled with blood, hot from embarrassment and arousal. My resolve ebbed even further, both tired of his little game and excited by it.
"Well," I responded with mock arrogance. "He would probably ask to join us."
"He sounds like an exciting fellow, though foolishly stupid for letting someone like me get a hold of you," he said, lifting me back up to his level, leading me somewhere. "Put your arms out, wrist up."
I did as I was told, giving myself over to who knows what. The feeling of the leather belt being tightened around my wrists stoked my desire, causing me to moan at the simple touch. Soon, my arms were lifted over my head. He had tied me to a tree branch some immeasurable distance above. I pulled against my bounds, testing their strength. "Oh, I do not think you will be going anywhere, my slutty little elf," he told me matter-of-factly. I shuddered from the wet kiss he planted under my ear. "Soon you'll want to be nowhere else."
That's already true, I thought to myself.
I kept still as his fingers clamped down on my nipples, tormenting them until they were rock hard under his touch. His lips suctioned around the left one, flicking it with his tongue. As he left kisses across my torso, I realized that my want to touch him had exponentially increased. His control over me was loathsome yet maddeningly erotic. My emotions followed the painful circle over and over; each feeling fed off the other. The spiral came to a halt, however, as a skilled hand started to stroke between my legs, drawing my attention to the new center of my being.
"Turn around for me," he commanded sweetly, pressing me against what had to have been the tree itself as I complied without question. I sank a canine into my bottom lip, suddenly feeling even more vulnerable. I became all too conscious of my imperfections, obsessing over a scar that ran down the small of my back, let alone the trail of old cuts down my left arm. He paid them no mind, however, as he ran his tongue down my spine, still pinching and pulling my nipples as he did so. His hands sank lower in a similar fashion, caressing each of my twists and turns in all of the ways I fondly remembered. He made me feel so dizzy with want that I was overjoyed to have something to lean against. My knees buckled beneath me as he lowered down to his own, marking my ass cheeks with his savage kisses.
"Oh, please," I begged; for what exactly I wasn't entirely sure.
"Please what? Stop?"
"No, don't stop," I managed to blurt out, letting him spread my legs further apart as I spoke.
"You have such a lovely ass--and an equally lovely cock. I think it would be an injustice to lavish one and not the other, yes?"
He pumped my member in his hand, playfully trickling his fingertips along the shaft. For a moment, his hands explored my nether regions; his breath raked against my skin. Before I fully realized it, his tongue was tracing circles on my left cheek. He sprinkled kisses, making me jump when the last kiss landed on the underside of my dick. I sucked air through my teeth, and he chuckled, turning his kiss into a swipe of his tongue. He drug it back, along the central vein and eventually over my scrotum.
If he had been anyone else, I wouldn't have welcomed his free fingers so warmly as they spread my ass apart, flicking his tongue at my opening. Before I was ready for it, he plunged his tongue inside, wriggling it as far as he could. Naturally, I moaned aloud, shaken by his sudden intrusion. He answered with a tight squeeze of his hand, which was finally able to embrace me at my fullest.
I already wanted to come; it had been so long since I had been intimate with another. For once, I wished that he wasn't as talented as he truly was. Nevertheless, I submitted to the idea that it was going to be a long night. It wasn't an idea that I was entirely unhappy about.
His warm mouth, wrapped around one of my testicles, snapped me out of my daydreaming. Even next to the fire, it made the rest of me feel chilly in comparison. I found myself blushing at all of the loud noises he made as he used me for his own amusement. One at a time, he exaggerated sucking them in and out of his mouth. He had always made a show of everything, especially sex. And since I couldn't see him, he was obviously going to make up for it with incessant slurping and other such wet sounds.
He sucked my prick against his teeth, keeping control of it with his lips. Again, he went over the top with the slurping, running his mouth along my length several times. After releasing me with a pop, he pulled my erection toward his face. And, after finagling himself into the correct position, he began to devour me with a cruel slowness.
"Mmm, Zevran," I mewled, feeling as though I were about to melt from the core outward.
"There you go again, confusing me for the wrong lover," he answered, catching his breath.
"Maybe you think you can fool me by denying me your face, but that tongue of yours betrays you," I attempted to say in the most arousing voice I could muster. He seemed quite pleased with my response.
Feigning sadness, he continued. "You are the clever one, as always, my Warden. It is as you say; 'tis I. Oh, but how can you blame me? I would be betraying myself if I didn't live up to my reputation, after all."
Though his talented tongue did help to give him away, on top of all of his other nuances, what truly whispered the truth to me was his life itself. Much like how an animal recognizes its master by smell instead of sight, the sensation of his blood energy next to mine was unmistakable where other senses could lead me astray. My own body sung, embraced by his essence at long last. The raw emotions were nearly too much to stand.
I barely could hear him as he continued spouting filthy, arousing things to me; his hand stroked methodically back and forth, hypnotizing me into giving my attention only to it. His voice and touch in time with one another were rhythmic and intoxicating, sapping my cares of anything other than my inevitable release.
"It feels good to have you in my hands again," I heard him say at last, tearing me from my thoughts. "And to taste you again," he added, acting on his words immediately afterwards.
For several minutes he remained silent, focusing totally on sucking me dry. Occasionally he would allow my cock to spring from his mouth, giving him the opportunity to drag his tongue up and over my balls and onto my asshole. He probed and stretched me, never quite sating my lust for something more to be violating me.
I began to feel as though I was about to burst and soak the tree that was holding up my nearly limp body. He was simply too perfect at hitting all of my buttons at all of the right times. My hips rolled, wanting him everywhere at once.
Sometime during the madness, he stood up, still pumping me in his hand. He turned me so that our noses nearly touched, and I felt his heavy breathing against my lips. Without even thinking that my actions would be used against me, I leaned out to kiss those lips; I was very much shaking in anticipation of their familiar texture. For a moment, I was surprised when he pulled away--hurt, even.
"Wanting a kiss from me, are we?" he questioned. I could just see the smug look on his face through my blindfold. "Just how badly do you want it from me?" Goosebumps popped up all over my right side as he whispered the question into my ear. Release was beginning to dance through my veins, and the ecstasy was getting the better of my judgment.
"Zevran," I growled, too irritated for words at that point. "Obviously quite a bit."
"Hmm, someone isn't playing fair. I was merely trying to ask you an easy question, yes? Oh, the next one will be much worse!"
Something told me that the next question would have come anyway, regardless of how I had behaved. "Just ask," I hissed, matching the rhythm of his hand with my pelvis.
"Because of your insolence, I would like to know which means more to you. I can kiss you, like you want, or I can make you come as soon as you wish. The choice is yours," he said with all seriousness, removing his touch from me altogether.
My physical and emotional desires clashed within me as I gnashed my teeth in thought. With him, there was always a right or a wrong answer. It was never simple to choose which he wanted. What I wanted was just as unclear. Instead of weighing my options, I blurted out the choice that was the most appealing at that exact moment.
"I want you to kiss me," I begged, honestly quite shocked with the answer I had chosen. My libido cursed me.
"Are you sure that's what you want?" Zevran asked me, obviously skeptical, considering how engorged I was. I could feel him staring. "You can still change your mind. I can see how badly you're aching to have my lips sealed tight around you again---to feel that friction."
"Yes. I can make myself orgasm whenever I want. It's been over two years since I've kissed you," I answered, pouring my heart out.
Though I figured he would be merciful and at least give me what I wanted, I was proven wrong. He pecked me on the cheek, immediately pulling away. I was fuming.
"Well, I didn't tell you where I'd kiss you, did I? My poor Warden, always so easily tricked by nice words."
I sagged under my restraints, beginning to feel helpless and abused. I had chosen wrong, apparently.
Just before tears started brimming in my eyes, I felt his hands return to me, running down my enflamed skin. I sucked in a breath, anxious. He dropped to his knees, feverishly taking me into his mouth. I whimpered, completely overcome by a whirlwind of emotions and feelings. The sadness fused with euphoria, sending me spinning into a state that was bittersweet to say the least.
"Don't worry, my lover, you will get your kiss," he reassured me, taking only a moment to remove me before swallowing me again. He put his right hand to work, moving in time with his head, never leaving an inch of me uncovered. My orgasm didn't take long to build back up to its former glory; he wasted no time to be flashy, only efficient. All at once, I spilled into his mouth, gasping from the overwhelming sensation.
As I came back to my senses, I could think of nothing but being able to see his face. He always looked so beautiful with lines of come streaming down his chin.
After draining me, he stood, dragging his nails up my chest, drawing a shiver from me. He said nothing, grabbing onto a handful of my hair, pulling me to him none too gently. His mouth captured mine, and it took me a moment to realize that it was me mixing into our kiss. It felt dirty yet exciting, as most dirty things do. My hesitation to indulge in the sticky kiss quickly subsided; all I cared about was at last getting that kiss at all. Arousal was stirring in me again as his slippery lips slid across mine. My only regret was that my own taste polluted the flavor I had been hoping for.
Had I chosen correctly after all?
I expected him to follow the moment up with a sarcastic or snide remark, but he surprised me with the sound of him removing his dagger from its sheath. He cut me down from the tree branch, giving my arms a much needed rest. My wrists, however, remained bound by the belt.
"Get on your knees and suck me, slutty elf," he commanded; I heard him rustling with what I guessed was his pants. I lowered to the ground not quite as gracefully as I wanted, still dizzy from the afterglow. As my fingers found his boots amidst the earthy debris, my heart leapt. At last, I was going to be able to touch him. Giddily, I ran my hands up one of his legs until I found what I was looking for.
My fingertips grazed his cock, enjoying how soft it was to the touch. I leaned forward, kissing the head and licking off a droplet of fluid that had already formed at the tip. I continued licking, following the pattern of veins that I could remember shockingly well. He sighed, petting my hair, urging me to do more. I propped up his erection with my thumbs, flattening my hands against his stomach. I stretched my mouth over him, taking him in, inch by inch, and I didn't stop until my nose was pressed against my fingers.
He growled, tightening his grip in my hair, pulling me towards him further still. He rattled off a slew of foreign words, pulling away from me some. I had no idea what they were, but I judged that, by the blissful way he pronounced them, he meant them as some form of a compliment. His enthusiasm excited me further, and I felt my cheeks flushing in pleasure as he fucked my mouth.
"If only you could see how beautiful you look, bent over pleasuring me," he managed, collecting his linguistics at last. "Still, I can think of ways for you to look even lovelier..."
I kept up my pace, pretending to ignore him. At that current time, nothing sounded better than the sound of my lips sliding up and down on his shaft. He pulled me off of him by that same clump of hair, proving that I really had no say in the matter.
"Come this way," he asked rather nicely, stepping backwards. I crawled towards him on my hands and knees, feeling not entirely proud of myself. I was sure I looked ridiculous, particularly with my hands tied together, and it was easy to picture my tormentor smiling from pointed ear to pointed ear.
What would the populous of Ferelden think if they saw me, their savior, like this? Crawling arse naked through dirt and grass at the whims of a foreign assassin? Oddly enough, the thought of the reactions of horrified, stunned citizens put an amused smile on my face.
My hands eventually felt cloth instead of bare ground. I ran them over it for a moment, grasping my surroundings. "Keep going," he said, impatient with me. Once I was entirely on the blanket, I stopped.
I nearly jumped out of my skin as I felt something fiery probing my rear end. "Don't worry," he laughed. "this is for you, after all." As I calmed my pounding heart, I realized that he was lubricating me with some warm, unidentifiable liquid. I had had no doubts that I would be on the receiving end that night, but at that point, my fate was sealed.
I pushed back into his hand, wanting more of those quick fingers. "Is this what you're wanting?" he asked, stretching the ring of muscle with two fingers.
"Not precisely," I answered, even though it was a question that was meant to be left unanswered.
"Oh? Are you feeling unsatisfied? Even after so kindly sucking you off?"
"Zevran, please, just fuck me," I spat. Once again, I was sure that I had dug myself into a deeper hole.
"So naughty!" he said, pretending to punish me by vigorously plunging his fingers up to the knuckles, grazing my prostate none too gently. As he finger fucked me, the lubricant spread, filling me with a strong heat and need to be filled with something more.
I felt empty when he pulled his hand away from me. I heard the clinking of glass, and I assumed that it was the bottle that held the hot fluid. I listened contently to the slick noise of his hand running over his own cock as I waited impatiently for its volume.
"Are you ready for me?" he pointlessly questioned, massaging my ass cheeks with the remnants of the liquid.
"Yes," I answered simply, arching into him and bracing myself.
A guttural moan escaped from my throat as he eased into me, slipping through without issue. He apparently agreed with me, letting more indistinguishable words fly. He pulled out a ways, thrusted back inside, and repeated the process, groaning with pleasure the entire time.
Zevran kept his pace slow, allowing his hands to roam all over my body. The ecstasy that it gave me was almost peaceful. It was unsettling, still, that he could be so rough one moment and then so gentle the next.
Then, with a cruel swiftness, he shattered the soft moment with a slap to my right ass cheek. I cried out, caught off guard to say the least. Tears rushed into my eyes, threatening to spill out and soak the blindfold. The second slap stung even more. Still, I caught myself arching into him, secretly hoping he would do it again. The third felt like fire, setting every nerve aflame; already my erection was full and smacking into my stomach with each of his thrusts.
"You horny thing!" he scoffed. "Already hard for me again!"
I fell to the ground with my cheek smashed into the blanket, letting my upper body brace me against him. He shifted to his feet to better suit our modified angle, keeping his hands on my hips without skipping a beat. It felt so animalistic, the way he was taking me, and in truth it made our setting seem much more suitable. He raked his nails up my back, drawing a pathetic moan from me.
"Mm, let us move on, shall we?" he said out of the blue, giving me one last smack. I expected him to pull out of me as he began to stand, but much to my surprise, my body went with him. With one arm around my waist, and the other with a firm grip on the underside of my thigh, he lifted me, somehow not breaking our link. He struggled only slightly, propping me up with an upward thrust. My hands hung awkwardly in front me, and I felt guilty not knowing how to help him. He took only a few steps before plopping down onto something.
I felt a little terrified, blind and not having control over my body. His warm lap and tight embrace soon alleviated that fear, however, and I stopped flailing my legs and relaxed my shoulders. I steadied myself on his knee, trying to find some place to dig my heels into. After realizing we were on a tree trunk, I found a few knots to brace my boots upon.
The steadiness didn't last. With the one arm still holding onto me, and the other I assumed being used as a stand, he continued drilling me. I leaned back against him, trusting in him not to let me go flying off.
As a reward of some kind, he began to stroke me furiously. I felt all of my blood rush into my prick, filling his hand even further. My body crashed around, and I could feel my own hair whipping me in the face after each snap of his hips.
"Feel as good as you remember?" he breathed into my ear, biting into the lobe.
I did my best to form a coherent response, but instead the words poured out with moans and meaningless sounds.
"I'm glad you're enjoying it as much as I," he added with all sincerity, continuing to nibble and lick at my ear. "Let's spin you around."
Somehow, after a few moments of manhandling me, he managed to swing me around so that our foreheads met, and I could feel his breath on my lips. I kept myself from kissing him but couldn't stop myself from voicing my desires.
"Zevran, please let me touch you," I pleaded, offering my bound wrists. I looked ridiculous, I'm sure, squirming on top of his throbbing cock. "I'll do anything," I added, deciding that it wouldn't hurt to throw out the offer.
"As you wish," he eventually answered, untangling the belt. "but I will remember that."
It was a relief in more ways than one, and I was nearly shaking from the happiness that was flooding me. I rubbed at my sore wrists and shook out my tired muscles before running my hands along his arms, feeling them feeling me. He softly rocked up and into me, allowing me to explore him at long last. Greedily, I grabbed at every inch of him, smoothing my fingers over his leather clothes. I found my way to his shoulders, twining my fingers into his hair, sifting through the silky strands.
"You've let your hair grow," I stated bluntly, surprised that I had said it out loud. "I'm sure it looks beautiful..."
"Ah ah ah," he threatened gently, catching onto my not so subtle attempt at sight. "For now, see me with those lovely hands."
I continued to play with his hair, pulling it against my face, absorbing the familiar scent that had taken so long to disappear from my blankets and clothing. It took me a moment to realize that he was fondling me again, so caught up was I.
I moved on to his face, cupping it with both of my hands. I could see him clearly in my mind's eye, and I grinned unashamedly as I traced his features with my fingertips. "Yes, they're still there," he whispered, catching on to the lines I drew down his left cheek. I thumbed at his plump lips, missing our previous kiss.
After sandwiching my thumbs between his mouth and my own, I waited for him to move my hands out of the way himself. He caught on and was generous for a change, capturing me in the kiss I was searching for. I could still taste myself on his tongue, and it made me feel that my last climax had been an eternity ago. Hugging him tight against me, I rocked my hips, struggling for some of the power.
"Down we go," he interrupted, softly placing us on the blanket. It was warm and inviting to lay on, basking in the fire for so long. I felt heavy and helpless beneath him as he lifted my legs over his shoulders, pulling me into a better position. I laid my arms back behind my head, allowing him to smooth his hands over me with those rough gloves.
Purposefully, I made as much noise as possible the closer he neared my raging hard on. He took me in a hand, stroking up and down lethargically. Lost in bliss, I found my own fingers winding through his hair again, searching for his braids but unable to find them.
My breath was ragged, and my lips were chapped from all of my pathetic panting. His thrusts into me became faster and heavier, and his pumping hand imitated the rhythm. I could feel the blood boiling in my cheeks; it was as if my skin was the meeting point between the physical fire next to me and the fire that burned inside of me. I was certain I'd melt beneath him, and I felt myself teetering on that edge.
His free hand surprised me, toying with my blindfold. My heart leapt, struck with the sudden realization that he was freeing my eyes.
I found myself staring at the hands that were gripped around his locks, nearly unconvinced that they were mine. All at once, my eyes flicked from one feature to another, trying to absorb the sight of his face. His lips were turned up into an honest smile, and he was staring at my eyes just as intently as I was staring at his. I was shattering, shaking under his weight, overcome with so many manners of stimulation, and I knew I was going to pop.
I couldn't have stopped myself if I had wanted to. I came for the second time, losing my sanity in those knowing eyes. Hot fluid splashed up to my rib cage, and he kept jerking me off until my moaning subsided.
He broke our stare, closing his eyes. With a primal ferocity, he grabbed me by the ankles and plowed into me with more force than I thought my raw body could take. I dug my nails into his biceps, returning him some of the pain he was giving me. Still, his face was beautiful, molded into a look of severe concentration. I focused on his shadowy figure, watching a droplet of sweat slide down his brow and his eyelashes kiss his cheeks.
"Alprize," he hissed, crashing into me without the grace he had possessed before. I felt him spill into me, but I was too ecstatic to hear my name come from his voice to really pay much attention. It wasn't something that happened often, even when we had been together every day for more than a year.
He shook and trembled above me, clutching my legs to him as though he'd fall upwards if he let go. From behind wild strands of blonde hair he peered down on me, dragging his eyes from my stained torso, up to my face, and back down again. His mouth remained still, but in his glassy eyes I could see him struggling with an inner thought that wanted free.
"I knew you'd come back for it," he told me, smirking. "Still such a hopeless romantic, I see." I found it humorous that he would mock my feelings as he lovingly stroked my thighs, unwilling to pull out of me just yet.
"You were waiting for me? You saw me drop it? So you witnessed me being ambushed and did nothing to help?" Most of my anger was for show, but it did sting nonetheless.
"Obviously there was no reason for me to help you. They hit you once, in their pathetic attempt of an ambush, and you obliterated them before I even had time to think on what to do. Also, I knew it would be wise to have someone else tire you out some, in case, you know, in case you were, well, still quite angry with me."
I glared at him, eventually shoving him off and away from me. I shivered, feeling his come seep out of me with a quickness, but I kept a straight face somehow. I held my arms around myself, partly out of the sudden vulnerability and partly because my body was sorely missing his heat.
"I was also exhausted, and if you had confronted me, even by accident, it would have undoubtedly made our reunion a very short one," he blurted out, standing and walking near his tent. He returned to me with a wet cloth. "Allow me."
I unlocked my quivering legs, though I tried not to invite him too readily. The sudden cold took my breath away, but it felt far more tolerable than gummy, drying bodily fluid. He gave the same attention to my stomach, cleaning off my own mess.
"Also," he continued. "I had been chasing you for weeks. I wanted our meeting to be a special one. We have so many memories of being together in battle; I wanted it to be just the two of us for a change."
I tried not to smile at his obvious frustration with admitting anything, speaking. "I'm surprised you can still recognize me," I chastised.
"Oh, don't be like that, my Grey Warden." He climbed over me, shadowing me. "Though you do look so cute when frustrated. You should have seen the look on your face, digging through mud puddles, desperately searching. Adorable."
As usual, I felt myself starting to fall apart from the overload of emotions. I swirled in an endless loop of happiness, sadness, humiliation, and pure anger. Tears were concentrating in the corners of my eyes, and I covered them with my arm to hide from him. Hiding from him was impossible, however. He knew me far too well.
"I'll admit," he went on, softening his tone. "Even I wasn't certain that you would come back for the earring had you noticed it had disappeared. To be honest, I was shocked that you were still wearing it." I felt him dig through his pocket and begin messing with the object that he had removed. I peaked out from under my forearm, watching him clean the little trinket with the wet cloth.
"You never have thought much of yourself," I told him earnestly, choking somewhat on my words. I breathed in heavily, concentrating to keep myself from crying.
"I actually think of myself quite often, in fact. That's what's always getting me into this kind of trouble." He chuckled, though I knew it was a front. Tenderly, he pushed my arm away from my face, exposing me to hazy vision and cloudy images. Even through the film of tears, I could see the gem sparkling in his fingers.
"This belongs to you," he said, tipping my face just enough so that he could slip the metal shaft through the hole in my ear. Most of my uneasiness went away with the 'click' that it made when he snapped the closure shut.
The moment reminded me all too well of the first time he had placed it there, piercing through my ear lobe at my insistent request to do so. Last time, his hands shook from fear of harming me instead of his own, uneasy emotions. I fondly reminisced, despite the pain and blood that had accompanied the act.
He gave me goose bumps, kissing my ear, capturing the stone between his teeth. Before I realized, my arms were tight around him, pulling him down onto me. He smeared at the tears on my face, hardly making a difference, and spread his affections to my neck and shoulders before finally returning to my lips.
I don't remember much between that moment and when I fell asleep; I could hardly keep my eyes open. His weight and warmth were too much comfort for my consciousness to bear. Needless to say, it was certainly the best I'd slept in an immeasurable amount of time.
***
I have more written, but I'm still going over it. If you have any interest at all, I should be posting more shortly. Thanks for reading.