A/N: This story is the result of the OC Kiss challenge from a fanart group. Adaaran belongs to the artist, Hessai. I do not own Dragon Age, but happily play on Bioware's playground.
Eirian sat up in bed with a languid stretch, a satisfied sigh passing through her lips. Last night had been...unexpected. She grinned, blushing slightly as she remembered some of the particulars. Adaaran was certainly a skilled lover. To think a Qunari - Vashoth as he'd put it - would rekindle her interest in men. After the abuse she'd suffered under Master Tremain, she thought she'd never take a male to her bed. But Adaaran had been gentle, considerate, and not at all bothered by her scars like some other potential bedmates.
Hearing masculine humming from the balcony, Eirian rose from the bed, slipping a leather patch over her left eye, and pulling on a tunic. Her pointed ears twitched as she followed the music to its source on the balcony: The tall Qunari sitting on a cushion and sipping tea as he read and sang softly to himself. The morning sunlight made his snowy hair glow, while his grey skin seemed to absorb the light, giving his features stark contrast of light and shadow.
Smiling, Eirian leaned against Adaaran's back, draping her arms over his muscled shoulders to rest her hands against his chest. "Good book?" she inquired, chin settling between his horns.
He tilted his head upward with a grin, black-and-grey eyes sparkling. "Quite. The Adventures of the Black Fox. Some of the stories remind me a bit of you."
"Oh?" The elf chuckled softly, drumming her fingers on Adaaran's chest. "Do tell."
"Well, he has a tendency to decieve and disrupt corrupt nobles, champion the poor, that sort of thing." Adaraan lifted Eirian's left hand, kissing the tip of each finger, including her pinkie and ring finger, the tips missing from the third knuckle. He then kissed her palm, causing her to shiver slightly.
"Well, you're right about the deception part, but I think you overestimate my goodness towards the poor." She ran her right hand along one of his horns. She felt more than heard his rumbling laugh.
"Your work benefits the local thieves' guild, which aids the poor in survival, and hurts the nobles' pocketbook. You don't screw anyone who can't afford it. That's good enough for me."
It was her turn to laugh now. "You remind me of the Red Jennies. Perhaps I should introduce you to one of my contacts."
Adaaran hummed thoughtfully. "That could be useful someday. But for now," he twisted and pulled Eirian onto his lap, mischief in his eyes. "I think I'd rather pass the time one-on-one."