Alistair and Fem!Cousland. Prompt was awkward, ridiculous, but still romantic first time for them both. Beware the giggles!
Maker's breath, this was all kinds of awkward.
It figured that he would find a woman that was even more sexually oblivious than he was. Just his sodding luck, really.
He loved her, of course, but Maker, she didn't even catch the lamppost euphemism!
And now, here he was, asking her to lay with him. Tonight. Because she was a lady and he was a gentleman and she would never consider acting the least bit wanton.
"Lay with you?" Elissa sounded particularly incredulous. "I... we aren't even in the Frostbacks anymore, Alistair. Are you that cold? We could-"
He groaned. Seriously?
Chuckling nervously, he elaborated, "No. I mean. I would like... to, uh... W-well..." he cleared his throat, cheeks burning, shifting his weight from foot to foot, "What I mean is, I would like you to be with me. Tonight. As... as a man and a woman who love each other?"
He was pretty sure it was not healthy to blush that hard.
"O-oh. I.. I see." She seemed to find the ground very interesting at that point. "I-I think... I think I'd like that? If... if that's what you want, I mean. I don't... well I don't know what's expected of me. Is all. I mean. Mother made it sound like some horrid, painful duty and -"
Alistair raised a hand to stop what would no doubt be a long, arduous explanation that would kill his sex drive for the rest of his life. "Look, Elissa... I don't really know what I'm doing either. I just.. I know I love you, and I want to.. to give myself to you, this way. I'll understand if you- you're not ready, or you don't want to, or you're scared."
Elissa looked at him then, and smiled. It was that sweet, utterly gorgeous expression that made him weak at the knees. "I love you too, Alistair. I do... and I am... scared, I think. Nervous, obviously. I... Mother always said that this was my duty to-to my husband," she grimaced, though he knew she wasn't balking at the idea of being his wife, moreover at the idea of being married to some old, crusty nobleman. "but I love you and I do... I want you to be the one."
He embraced her warmly, thankful neither of them were on watch tonight, both changed into simple linen breeches and shirts. He was suddenly very aware of her breasts pressed against him and fought the sudden urge to grind his hardening length against her hip.
Right, then.
Raking a hand through his hair, he gave her his best boyish smile and gestured gallantly towards his tent. "Shall we?"
He realized, quite late, that he really should have waited for an inn or something.
Your first time with a woman who is also experiencing her first time, in a small, cramped tent, that barely allowed him in, let alone he and Elissa who was a scant few inches shorter, well it was just the very definition of a Bad Idea.
Still, she was in his tent. They had knelt down, facing each other. Or, well, he was looking at her, and she was looking at everything but him, wringing her hands and biting her lip - he still wasn't quite sure why that last part was sexy, but it was.
Time passed, he had no idea how long, honestly; they just stared at each other.
Awkward.
She cleared her throat in that rather haughty way - he imagined she learned how to do that by the time she was two - and continued fidgeting slightly, but she was looking at him rather pointedly.
Oh. Right. Me.
He shifted forward and pressed his lips to hers, softly. It was sweet and chaste, as it always was at first, before he parted his lips and teased her own open. Elissa let out a small, needy moan that rushed straight to his libido, causing his trousers to strain.
She pulled back, breathless; chest heaving, lips swollen and parted as she greedily sucked in air that they had both forgotten they needed.
"Alistair... I," she paused, giggling. It was more than a little hysterical, and oddly comforting, "I suppose, uh... our clothes?" She tugged his shirt and cocked her head slightly.
"Er. Yes. That is.. yes that's probably a good idea. I, um, I guess I'll go first, then?" She nodded.
So he did. It was dark, not pitch black but the fire was dying and neither of them could see much, so they had to rely on touch and sound. Her calloused, but feminine hands gently brushed against his abdomen, and they gasped in unison. She used the blunt nail of her index finger to trace the ridges of his muscles, causing him to shiver and moan.
Then she went lower and he caught her by the wrist, a little more harshly than he intended, but if she went any lower he was quite certain it would be Ended and he would likely no longer feel like a man.
She stammered. "I-I'm sorry, I was just.. curious, I-"
"No- don't, please. I just. It's your turn, obviously. You were cheating." He desperately tried to distract her with a bit of levity.
"Oh. R-right. My shirt?" He moved closer to her and nodded, lifting the hem of it over her head and -
"Ow! Maker's Blood, Alistair!" she whined; one of the loose buttons of her shirt caught her hair and he apparently pulled a few strands out in his haste.
Oops.
He mutter a "sorry" against the crown of her head and kissed tenderly, before realizing she still had her breast bind on.
He traced a finger along her elegant collarbone, down until he reached the cleft between her breasts.
He swallowed hard, voice raspy, "May I?"
He felt her nod, and began the apparently puzzling task of removing said binding. She was sighing impatiently and he decided that just tugging the thing was the best option.
Then she slapped his hand.
"He-ey" he whimpered, fully aware how petulant he sounded.
He could practically hear her rolling her eyes and grinning, before she grabbed his hands and led them to her back. The ties came lose in seconds and the fiendish, mocking cloth pooled at her waist.
He was sure it was laughing at him.
"Alistair?"
It was pitch-black now, unfortunately. Or maybe it was fortunate. She obviously expect him to approve of her... goods.
He brought his hands around to her chest, resting on her ribs, his thumbs brushing the underside of her bosom. She moaned.
What does one do with breasts?
Alistair was at a loss, and she was no help at all, so he decided just to wing it.
What could possibly go wrong?
Tentatively, he lifted one hand, letting the underside of her breast lay in his palm, as if he were weighing. Elissa shivered, and it jiggled and he decided right then and there that breasts were indeed, awesome, despite the annoying contraption that banded them (yes he still hated that thing, and no he would not forget it).
He brought his other hand up to do the same, slowly bringing his palms up to cover her hardening nipples. Of course, he did what any man would do in his position, and mimicked a lewd gesture he had seen other men make, that he eventually figured out meant something about a woman's breasts.
She shrieked. Shrieked. "Alistair! Gentle. Please. They happen to be attached to me."
Maker, this was embarrassing. He felt all the world like he was failing some test.
But he was nothing if not obedient, so he squeezed again, more gently. She "hmm"ed approvingly.
He moved to the next area of interest, her nipple. Winging it had not really worked out for him thus far, but he was a persistent man. He brushed a thumb against one bud, and she moaned.
"Yes." she said, airily, "Maker, yes."
He did it again, this time with both hands, on both breasts, and then Elissa moaned his name and, Maker help him, he had no idea his name could sound so damn erotic and he just about lost it right there.
Determined to make her feel even better, but still far too curious to quit while he was ahead, he pinched one of her nipples between a thumb and forefinger.
"Ouch!" She jerked away, covering her bosom with one arm, "What in blazes do you think you're doing?"
He tried to stammer something out, but honestly he was more than a little miffed.
I have no idea what I'm doing, woman!
Alistair would have said just that were it not for the sudden sharp and not wholly unpleasant feeling of her pinching him in retaliation.
"How do you like it, hmm?" He wisely kept his mouth shut, firmly ignoring the way his cock throbbed from the attention.
"I'm sorry, Elissa." A sigh whooshed out of him as he groped for her hand, finally finding it and clasping firmly, "I wasn't lying when I said I had no idea what to do, you know."
He felt her sigh in response and nod slightly. "I'm sorry, too. I just- I don't like feeling so..." she squeezed his hand and sighed again, obviously not able to find the correct word at the moment.
"Can we try again?"
He grinned, boldly pulling her closer; bare breasts against his chest, they both groaned, but he held his ground.
He cradled her jaw in his sword-worn hands, brushing his lips against hers.
"As you desire, my love." He really wasn't aware his voice could sound that husky, but the shudder he got from his dearest love was delicious.
Their lips met harshly; hungrily battling with tongues in a sudden burst of desire.
Perhaps this night was salvageable.
Finally. Finally, things were going as he imagined.
The air was thick with desire, making a purely enjoyable tension in his belly, slowly chipping away the awkward tension that was there before.
Elissa melted against him even more; their kisses were wet and manic now, nipping each others lips playfully as they desperately caught their breath. He gently squeezed a breast, and flitted a thumb over her nipple the way she seemed to like so much.
The resulting wail -muffled against the cord of his neck, as it was- sorely reminded him that they still had pants on and that this was a major problem.
Alistair planted sweet pecks on Elissa's neck as it craned back, boneless.
He nipped her earlobe, chuckling huskily as she gasped.
His hand somehow made it to her belly, casually flicking the waistband.
"May I?" He tugged at the laces, not enough to loosen them at all, but enough to make it very clear what he wanted.
"Well... Um. I just-"
His hand immediately shot back to his side.
"I'm sorry! I just.. I thought -" Oh, Maker, this was a terrible idea.
"Alistair.."
He hung his head dejectedly, glad she couldn't see it. "No, no. Really. It's fine. I'll just -"
"Alistair!" His head snapped up at that; she never used her Scary Commander Voice on him.
"All I was trying to do was mention we still had our boots on," she let out a bark of laughter, "In hopes to avoid more awkwardness." There was a sigh, likely accompanied with a shake of her head. "Maker, we're terrible at this, aren't we?"
He just stared at her a moment, before breaking out into a fit of nervous, hysterical giggles that she soon joined in on.
As the contagious giggles subsided, he embraced her. "Yes. The worst." Another giggle from them both, but then his voice grew serious. "Even if this turns out to be a disaster, and you end up giving me those icy glares you only save for Sten when he steals your cookies for the rest of my life," he smiled against her neck before looking into her eyes, even in the dark, "I want this to be with you... only you, Elissa."
She kissed him tenderly, chastely, through a gentle smile.
"Get these boots off me, Ser Knight."
'Easier said than done' seemed to be the official theme of the evening.
It was dark, they were both quite long-legged, and Alistair had armor strewn about his tent.
Elissa knocked over something as she tried to lay out on his bedroll. Then he realized, yet again, it was pitch black, and he had to grope his was down her leg to find her feet. Worse yet, he had to figure out how to unlace and unbuckle the things in the dark.
Ten minutes, thirteen curses, and one mildly amused almost-lover later, her feet were free of boots and socks, as were his because there was no way he was going to wait for her to do it for him.
Alistair stretched out next to her; propped up on one elbow, his other hand resting just about her navel. He felt her breathing hitch, then speed up slightly.
Her voice was shaky. "I love you, Alistair."
He smiled, unable to speak with his heart in his throat, so he settled for kissing her deeply, letting his hand snake down to the laces of her breeches.
The laces came loose easily despite his trembling hand. His fingers slipped under the waistband of her breeches; of her small clothes. They continued on their own until he reached her moist center, causing them both to let out a whimper.
It was warm; hot even, and slimy, and instead of being disgusted by it like he assumed he should have been, it was the best damn thing he had ever felt. His mind was suddenly fogged with lust and he practically caused the tent to come down on them when he peeled the rest of her clothing off.
Elissa let out a small squeal that turned into a giggle, that was closely followed by a strained moan when he put his fingers back on that wonderful heat.
Unsure as always, he resumed his position by her side, quickly planted kisses on her collarbone. She squirmed against his hand, and he responded, inexpertly stroking her folds as if it were a lap cat.
He continued his movements, cataloging where she liked to be touched most; he learned that small circular movements rewarded him with coos, his middle finger stroking up and down the length of her sex practically got him a scream- not that he was smug about that at all.
Then he felt pressure on the bulge in his pants that he had nearly forgotten about and almost passed out from the sudden rush of pleasure.
The wicked little minx next to him giggled when he let out some bastardized hybrid of a moan and a groan, and stroked again. Firmer.
Maker; if this was sin, he'd happily burn.
She tugged at his pants, pulling them only a bit over his narrow hips, before her hands pulled back to her sides.
"Elissa?" His voice was husky and barely above a whisper.
Alistair could vaguely see her bite her lip; when she spoke, her voice was small, almost like a scared child.
"I don't... want to seem like some wanton," she licked her lips, "I shouldn't be grabbing at you like that... should I?"
He laughed, unable to stop himself, "You won't be hearing any complaints from me, 'Lis."
Apparently, she could remove his trousers even faster than he could.
"Andraste's Blood," he couldn't help but curse, despite the utterly divine feeling of her skin against his, "You..." he swallowed thickly, "You feel amazing. Divine. I am most definitely a lucky bastard." He pressed himself against her hip; gently stroked her hair with his hand and kissed her firmly.
Elissa made a small little murring noise; it oozed contentment and love, and she pressed more forcefully back against him, catching his earlobe in her teeth before whispering, "Make love to me, Alistair. Please."
He attempted to say something that was sure to be unbelievably suave, but his voice broke like he was thirteen again.
Clearing his throat, he drawled, "Well, since you asked so nicely."
Again. Easier said than done.
Andraste's tits, if we ever finish this I am never doing this in a tent again.
She kneed him; twice in the stomach, once on his thigh - scarce inches away from his manhood and he nearly yelped.
Nearly, and it would have been a very manly yelp, regardless, thank you.
He managed to pull her hair while positioning himself between her thighs. He apologized, kissed her cheek, then managed to do it again.
Alistair was just about to apologize - again - when the tip of his length brushed the warm, moist flesh of her sex.
Everything stopped and his mouth went completely dry.
"Are... are you ready, my love? It... it's s-supposed to hurt, isn't it? For women? The first time, I mean." The words tumbled out and his winced, desperately hoping he wasn't scaring her off with his ineptitude and rambling.
"So I hear," she let out a nervous chuckle, "Don't worry, please? I'm sure I've been through worse."
Air whooshed out of him, and his eyes clamped shut for a moment. Maker, he didn't want to hurt her but...
He kissed her deeply, passionately; tongues twirled together as he began to press his length into her.
Or, at least, that's what was supposed happen.
Instead he missed. Twice.
Alistair was pretty certain he found the right hole because the Maker finally decided to have mercy on him rather than make everything go wrong just for His amusement.
He slid in, as gently as possible; it was heavenly. There was no possible way this could be wrong, sinful.
As slowly as he could manage while still keeping what little sanity he had left, he continued. Elissa was wincing slightly, shifting her hips up in a way that made him growl low in his throat.
His head bowed, lips brushing against the skin of her neck; he attacked. Theoretically, it was to distract her from any pain, but it seemed more to distract him from the too-quickly growing ache he was feeling in his abdomen.
Then he hit a barrier.
Elissa muttered something he couldn't catch, but the grip on his biceps tighten; nails that were once pleasantly scraping, were now digging into his skin.
He went up to her ear, whispering an "I love you", and pushed again.
The pressure was so intense it hurt him; Elissa was whimpering, shifting restlessly under him like she just wanted to get it over with. He complied and sunk all the way into her delicious heat.
She cried out pathetically; he felt terrible that he was actually somewhat glad for the noise- it certainly dampened the mood and maybe he'd actually be able to hold out for a bit longer.
Her entire body was tense, her nails were so deep in his skin they actually stopped hurting until she loosened her grip.
"A-are you all right?" He tried to sound genuinely concerned, but buried in her as he was, his voice still had a lustful undertone to it.
She whimpered softly, before replying, "I-I think so... it doesn't hurt so much now... just aches." She tilted her hips at a deeper angle this time, moaning throatily in response. "M-maybe if you.. move?"
Mentally, he whispered a quick prayer of thanks, and did as asked.
Oh, Maker.
He pulled out, and thrust back in, burying himself all the way to the hilt. He belonged there, deep inside her welcoming, slick heat.
Again. Her legs suddenly wrapped around his waist and she ground against him, mewling and arching her back so her breasts pressed against his chest.
Another thrust, and her walls tightened and he...
All the sudden, he just couldn't hold back anymore. His thrusts became quick, jerky; he vaguely heard her crying out his name, laced with surprised and lust and he came and it was the most amazing thing he had ever experienced in his life. He couldn't help but weakly moan her name in response.
Alistair barely kept himself from falling on top of her, only just keeping his weight held on his elbows.
"Alistair? What's wrong?" Uh oh.
"I...um. Ended. Didn't you...?"
The Maker apparently decided Alistair's embarrassment was far too entertaining for Him to pass up for too long.
"'Didn't I...' what? Are... we done? Was that it?" There was only genuine curiosity in her voice but it still hurt his manly pride quite effectively.
"You uh..." he sighed, rolling himself off of her, cuddling her close to him quickly afterwords, back pressed to his chest, "I mean, I'm pretty sure you're supposed to... end, too."
He could picture her brow furrowing. "Oh. How do you know when you...?" he felt her make some sort of hand gesture.
She's never...? Maker, and I thought I was sheltered.
"You know, I really don't know how to explain it... ah- it... it felt incredible for me. I guess... I guess I didn't do much for you?" He winced at how pathetic he sounded.
Elissa turned to face him, lacing her fingers around his neck, she kissed him thoroughly.
When she pulled back, he was breathless; more from the raw emotion in the kiss than anything else.
"I don't know about... what we just did. I'm happy you enjoyed yourself, and... I enjoyed it too... even if I didn't..." she trailed off for a moment, "I love you, Alistair. I'm glad I gave myself to you."
Relief poured into him, coming out as a small laugh. "Good to know I won't be on your Icy Death Glare list just yet."
He was rewarded for his quip with a tiny laugh to mirror his own, before she snuggled against him, head burrowing against his shoulder.
Sleep grasped at them both, and soon her breathing evened out, coming out in warm puffs against his chest that tickled ever so slightly.
Alistair kissed her hair sweetly, tightening his hold on the one thing in his life that was just good.
The Maker definitely enjoyed tormenting him, but he figured if that's what it took to keep Elissa, well, there were worse things than being His jester.
He fell asleep with a smile on his face that had nothing to do with losing his virginity.
Leliana was ravaging her pouty lower lip in an attempt to keep herself from bursting out into giggles.
Oh, the poor dears!
She quite firmly believed that new lovers should discover each other without outside interference, but that was just painful.
Zevran, for his part, was shaking his head and rolling his eyes, muttering something about leading a horse to water.
"You see?" he pointed at the tent in question, "I told you, my dear, we should have given tips."
A giggle escaped her. "Oh, Zevran. I hate to admit it, but you are right." she let out a long-suffering sigh and pulled out a piece of parchment, her quill, and some ink.
He raised a fair eyebrow curiously before purring, "Can we not just demonstrate for them, my sweet? Surely that will get the... point across far more effectively."
Leliana just rolled her eyes and handed him a sheet and a spare quill. "I am writing for Alistair; it will be far less embarrassing for them both if we just leave some notes, Zevran." she paused a moment to give him what she felt was a suitably stern glare, "Nothing too... elaborate, Zev. Just a few tips on where and how to touch."
Zevran said nothing, but he grinned in the most lascivious way she considered going taking the paper back.
Then she remembered the Wardens' performance and decided it was simply the Maker's will that they had him around to educate.