I don't know why, but listening to the Black Keys while in a Dragon Age mood caused my fangirl brain to go into overdrive, so here's one of the resulting concepts that was lingering on my hard drive for a while, now finished. I hope you enjoy.
Warnings: Warrior on mage smut.
Don't own Dragon Age, just love playing it and fantasizing about the characters. :3
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"... A sinister kid is a kid who runs to meet his Maker. A drop-dead sprint from the day he's born, straight into his Maker's arms. And that's me, that's me... The boy with the broken halo. That's me, that's me... The devil won't let me be..." - The Black Keys "Sinister Kid" -
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Magnus, the youngest son of Bryce and Eleanor Cousland, brother of Fergus Cousland, was not a man to be trifled with. The young man, stern and as harsh as the winters in Ferelden, had the heart of a lion, the mind of a general, and the temperament of a dragon. He was a man of few words, so that when he spoke, it was best to take heed. He could be brusque, a trait that many people found off-putting. He meant no insult by it; he merely hated to waste time on small-talk when there was work to be done.
The reaver had no love for the Chantry. He neither wanted nor cared for their dogma, and refused to break under the pressure of their constant guilt trips. He was, in their eyes, a godless heathen.
It drove Morrigan mad. He was the perfect male specimen, strong and willful, with his god-like musculature and well-groomed, short-cropped black hair, a light dusting of pitch-black stubble kept neatly trimmed along his chin. Clad in the blood-red ceremonial armor that he'd claimed from the corpse of one of the assassins left at Lake Calenhad by the Cult of the Risen Andraste, he was glorious to behold. He was a monster among men, untamable and free.
He was distant by nature, but never cold to his friends. Indeed, to his companions, he could be surprisingly warm, when the mood struck him, though it had taken each of them a long time to unlock his smile. Matters of physical attraction, for the most part, he handled with refreshing honesty. He and the elf occasionally took pleasure from one another, but this was nothing more than mutual lust, as far as anyone could tell. Zevran would gloat for days at a time after their copulation, casting smug looks at the warrior's backside or making the odd comment on his prowess.
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Morrigan watched the reaver glower his way through another midnight watch. She could see it seething beneath the surface, the wild, darkly passionate side that he kept locked away behind that tightly drawn mouth and saturnine stare. How she longed to discover just how sinister he could be when pressed. To experience his touch for herself...
"Magnus...?" the witch ventured from her seat beside the fire. When he turned to respond, she offered him the space at her side.
The Warden considered her carefully before joining her. "Yes, what is it?"
"You and I have become friends, have we not?"
The black-haired man nodded. "Of course." This was in reference, he was certain, to a conversation they had had earlier that day. She had been vexed after he had slain Flemeth and returned with the sorceress' true grimoire, giving it to Morrigan without asking for a reward. He told her it was because they friends, the word rolling from his tongue as easily as any other. It puzzled her that anyone would care so much for her when she was, by nature, wild and unapproachable.
"Then... may I pose to you a serious question?" Her gold eyes glinted dangerously in the light of the flames.
His eyes narrowed with suspicion. He had learned to be wary of her requests since the incident with her mother. He might not have slain the old woman if not for his loyalty to her daughter. But he was fond of Morrigan, and so he nodded. "Go ahead."
The witch slid closer to him, leaning in a bit. "Could there ever be something... more? between us? Have you ever considered it?"
She could see the cogs turning in his head, the sudden flare of desire that arose behind his brilliant blue eyes. He could not deny that he wanted her- had wanted her ever since they'd first laid eyes on each other in the Korcari Wilds. His deep voice rumbled out in a growl, "I have."
Morrigan's gaze darkened. Unthinking, she shifted yet closer. "What about right now? We could be together, if you... wish-"
His mouth closed on hers before she could finish. His kiss was possessive, unrestrained... It lit a fire in her soul. The witch threw her arms around his neck, pulling him tightly against her. Magnus growled in satisfaction, hands seeking to free her hair from its clasp. The dark locks spilled down across her neck and shoulders in a feather-light cascade of black. She sought to free him from his armor, the red steel falling away with a clatter of chain and interlocking plate. In her haste to discover his body, she tore at the black shirt he wore beneath.
His chest, broad and dusted with a few dark curls, was hard and lean, his musculature in perfect proportion to his tall, stern appearance. She pulled back to look at him, fingertips trailing along the cords in his neck. "You are everything I'd hoped you'd be and more, Magnus." Her touch strayed lower until she was stroking him through his breeches. Her eyebrow arched. "... Much, much more."
The Warden smiled at last, brazen, cocky. His grin was dragon-like in its hungry, toothsome quality. "I am glad that I meet with your approval," he replied. "That said, I am not known for my patience..." He lunged forward, tackling her to the ground, the sudden attack wringing a laugh from her. Within moments, her own tattered attire lay scattered about them like so many fallen leaves. Pinned down, with both of her hands trapped firmly in the strong, sword-calloused grip of one of his, she squirmed with delight.
"You will be given no quarter," he rumbled, lips seeking the soft, sweet taste of her breast. "I've been told that I am as merciless in the act of lovemaking as I am in battle. I trust that this isn't a problem?"
"Mmm... I would be sorely disappointed if it were otherwise," the witch purred.
Tangled upon the furs that Morrigan used for a bed, the pair coupled. Her hands clawing through his hair, nails raking down his back and along his shoulders, the spellcaster mewled and moaned, each snap of his hips filling her almost to the point of being painful. True to his word, he showed her no mercy. The reaver claimed her roughly, taking his pleasure from her and returning it tenfold. She was beautiful, brutal as a sudden blizzard and as searing as a wildfire, her agile, ivory-skinned body matching his every thrust.
He felt the heat coil deep within him and he leaned close to her ear, nipping at her flesh as he spoke, "Come for me... Come..."
It was a spell, a magic all his own. The words, commanding, rushed her towards her climax. It rocked through her, as powerful as the sea crashing upon the shore, and left her begging for air. The warrior followed shortly after, roaring to completion.
Two storms that had collided, two dragons meeting in the darkness, the pair had sealed their bond with sweat and with the fires of their hearts. Neither one doubted that their lives had been irrevocably changed by this union. For no one else would ever be able to inspire such passion in either of them as that which they had given each other on that night.
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I cringe at my own romance novel-esque melodrama sometimes, but for some reason Dragon Age tends to bring that out in me. /XD Feel free to review, if it pleases you. ^-^