Death Becomes You
They had taken to playing dice in her room at night to pass the time: her, Oghren and Zevran. Anders too, on some nights, but tonight he had been busy reading, unwilling to abandon his book for such frivolous entertainment.
Sigrun loved those evenings. Her room was cold and empty, with Velanna gone, so she was happy to have company. And she loved to listen to their stories of the Blight Year. She'd never gotten much sense out of Oghren before, but since Zevran had arrived, the anecdotes flowed as freely as the ale, and she couldn't get enough of them.
Zevran was just as glad for the diversion, she knew. He hated being trapped like this. It had been two weeks now since Morena's murderer had been exposed and locked up, but the cold winter weather was showing no sign of letting up. Heavy snow drifts were keeping them all inside Vigil's Keep. It was obvious he was raring to go, obvious from the tension in the line of his shoulders, the increasing effort it cost him to keep his temper during the day. Now, however, he looked relaxed and almost happy, at least until they recounted the story of Morena's exploits in the mountains around Haven.
Zevran's hands were gesturing passionately, his eyes gleaming with fervour at the memory of the battle. "Ah, but Morena was magnificent when we fought the dragon. You should have seen her, the blizzard she hurled at the beast, the ice spreading from her fingers, freezing it in place! Magnificent!" His voice faltered for a moment and he closed his eyes. "And now..."
Oghren snorted. "Don't tell me you're grieving for that bitch!"
Zevran's features hardened. "And why wouldn't I, my friend? Morena was what she was. Not particularly kind or charitable, not always pleasant. Still, she was a beautiful young woman and a hero. Not to mention a good friend to me. Yes, I'm sad she's gone."
The dwarf rolled his eyes, but knew better than to argue. They played another round in silence, finishing their jugs of ale, but the good mood wouldn't return. Finally, Oghren got up, yawned and stretched and prepared to leave, staggering a little as he gathered his belongings.
"This was fun." Zevran smiled at Sigrun. "I haven't played such a good game of dice in years. I hadn't realized how much I missed it."
"Why did you stop playing?" She had been surprised how much he had enjoyed himself, laughing excitedly at each win, wailing with exaggerated pathos when he lost.
The assassin shrugged. "I lost my set, way back in the Brecilian Forest. I never got around to buying a new one."
Sigrun smiled. "I have a spare. Nicked it from a trader years ago, but I don't really need it. You can have it if you want."
Turning away, she began digging through her chest for the small pouch containing the dice. Oghren grunted something unintelligible, made an obscene gesture at her upturned backside, and shuffled out of the room, the door falling shut behind him.
"Here they are!" She whirled around to find Zevran right behind her. "Zev. By the Stone, you startled me. What-"
"Thank you." He took the dice from her hand and carefully stowed them away in his belt before turning back to her. He was still close, so close she could feel the warmth of his body, smell the cinnamon on his breath. "So... would you like me to stay? Have some more fun?"
Sigrun gasped. "Are you saying what I think you are, Zevran Arainai? Are you coming on to me? To me?"
He chuckled. "I am, yes. And why not? You are pretty, funny, sweet." His finger trailed along her jaw, his touch as light as a feather. "And I find myself getting... restless lately."
"Listen, Zev, I know you're not picky, but doesn't it put you off that I am dead?" She looked up at him with a mocking grin. Not very far up; he was not that much taller than her, really.
He threw his head back and laughed. "You may recall that I'm intimately acquainted with death, cara mia. Besides, you look rather fetching for a corpse." He grew serious. "No, it doesn't put me off. Nor does anything else about you. But if my advances bother you, I'll leave and kindly ask you to forget about them." His fingers played with her pitch-black hair as he waited. When she didn't say anything, he sighed and turned away.
Without quite knowing why, she raised her hand and touched his arm. "Wait. Don't go." He stopped, his face carefully impassive. "I would like to... It's just... I don't have a lot of experience with this."
His smile was back. "Well, I have plenty, so we should be good." He bowed down to kiss her, then hesitated. "You're not..."
"Oh no!" She shook her head, grimacing. "I grew up in the slums of Dust Town. You were there with Morena, weren't you? Did it seem like a place where a girl would stay innocent for long? No, I've had my fair share of dusters. It... just hasn't ever been all that pleasant for me."
He looked at her searchingly and let his mouth brush gently against hers. "Then let me change that. Let me make it good for you, yes?"
She nodded, feeling dazed and confused. The touch of his lips had started a pleasant tingle in her stomach.
His gaze travelled around the small room she had shared with Velanna, briefly pausing on the knick-knacks she had assembled, a potted plant, a tiny snow globe, a toy chariot, then came to rest on the bed. It was little more than a narrow cot, really, but it would suffice. Leading her over to it, he sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled her between his legs.
The position made up quite nicely for the difference in height, and Sigrun blushed when she realized she probably wasn't the first dwarven woman he had taken to bed. Yet in a way, the thought reassured her, encouraged her, as did the admiration in his eyes when he traced the lines of her tattoos, all over her face.
"Beautiful." It was merely a whisper. He leaned in closer and let his tongue follow the lines on her cheek.
Sigrun shivered, but at the same time she rolled her eyes and made a face. "They are not meant to be beautiful, Zev. They are brands, so everyone will know me for what I am. A useless, low-down, thieving duster."
He paused to look into her eyes. "But that isn't who you are. Not even remotely." His fingers resumed their caresses, focussing on her forehead now, smoothing out her frown. "They may not be meant to be such, but they are beautiful. They bring out the blue of your eyes. Such a lovely colour."
"Hmmph. Flatterer." But she couldn't hide her smile, and he seemed enchanted by it, planting soft little kisses on the corners of her mouth.
Emboldened, she reached for his hair and let her fingers run tentatively through the long golden strands. He leaned into her touch, an expression of sheer enjoyment on his face, but hissed sharply when she brushed against his pointed ear. She pulled back at once, but he caught her wrist and guided her hand back.
"Don't stop." His voice was hoarse, and she giggled.
"That good?" She let her hand run up to the pointy tip and carefully rubbed it between her fingers.
He gasped. "Yes. That good."
With a low growl, he pulled her into a long, deep kiss. Nimble fingers made short work of the fastenings of her shirt. His fingertips danced over her skin, tentative at first, then with more pressure as soon as he was sure he was welcome. Sigrun felt dizzy. His touch was so incredibly assured, and he always seemed to know which spot to caress next, where to place another heated kiss. Soft lips closed around her hardened nipples, and his tongue teased her pebbled skin until she buried her hands in his hair to pull him close as he sucked greedily and with abandon.
Before she knew it, she was naked in his arms, her firm, compact body bare to his touch. With a few quick, spare moves, he shrugged off his own clothes and lifted her onto the bed, next to him.
It was only when he raised a questioning eyebrow at her that she realized she'd been staring at him, his long, naked body, the muscles playing under his tanned skin, his hard, erect cock.
"I'm sorry." She blushed. "It's just that... I've never been with an elf. Can I... look?"
He grinned and lay back. "Feel free to explore."
Sigrun swallowed and scuttled closer, taking another look at him. He wasn't all that different from a dwarf, a tiny bit longer and slimmer perhaps, but well within the limits of individual variation. His skin was beautiful, though, smooth and caramel brown, and when she plucked up her courage to touch him, he felt silky soft, hot and taut and eager.
She became progressively bolder, letting her hands wander, and he let her, his eyes half closed with pleasure, his body relaxed. But even his patience had limits. When she began to grab him harder, to squeeze him tighter, he growled again and pushed her back into the cushions.
"Not yet." He slid down between her legs. "There's something I want to do for you first."
And then his mouth was there, and whatever he was doing with his lips and tongue felt utterly divine. Looking down on his golden head, she realized he wasn't just doing this to please her. He was enjoying himself, tasting her, sampling her like a rare delicacy, and the thought sent another shiver down her spine. Within minutes she was mewling softly, but he never paused, his tongue flicking along her skin, searching out every hidden fold and every sensitive spot, then thrusting carefully inside her, again and again. Her climax surprised them both with its sudden violence. Holding her hips down, he licked her gently through the final waves.
"Oh my." A long shudder ran along her body. "I think I just died. For real."
Zevran laughed. "Death becomes you, carissima. You look... delicious. All tousled and flushed and relaxed."
Swiftly he moved up and positioned himself, the tip of his cock nudging at her entrance. Sigrun swallowed and tensed a little, old memories suddenly assailing her, but he distracted her, nibbling on a ticklish spot right beneath her ear, and when she was giggling, he slid inside her in one single, smooth stroke. Her head flew back and her mouth opened in a long sigh of pleasure. So good. So full, so hot and exquisite. He was big, but not more so than the dwarves she'd been with before. A perfect fit.
He paused for a moment, intently watching her face, and then he moved, slow and controlled, and Sigrun stopped thinking, except to wonder who she could hear moaning and whimpering. For a long time all she knew was his skin on hers, his hardness inside her, touching all her most secret places until she came again, screaming in his arms and finally understanding that this hoarse, begging voice was her own.
He was groaning too, his hands gripping her hard, just before he collapsed on top of her, spent and sated, the tension drained completely from his body.
Afterwards, he lay stretched out next to her. Sleek, lithe, dangerous. Like a magnificent cat. A lion, with golden skin, golden hair, golden eyes. Full of sun. Sigrun shook her head. And what would a duster girl, a warrior of the legion, want with a creature of the sun? Nothing between us could possibly last.
Noticing her frown, he kissed her again. "What is it, cara mia? Why so grim?"
She sighed. "You are leaving soon, aren't you?"
He nodded. "As soon as the snow melts. My oath was to Morena, not to the Wardens."
She didn't attempt to dissuade him, not when he slunk out of her room at dawn, nor when he left the Keep a week later when the thaw had set in. But more than once in the months to come she found herself dreaming of warm sun on her skin. Laughter, heat, sunlight. A curious dream for a duster.
Many thanks to zevgirl for smoothing out all the little wrinkles!