Nobody was surprised when it was Zevran who moved forward.
"Ah, mi amore, you poke a wolf with a stick and you will get bitten," he sighed in her ear, one hand roving lazily across her breasts, down her stomach as she quivered against him, held firmly against Fenris' chest, one dark arm wrapped around her waist, holding her still for the assassin to explore.
She wriggled and panted as Zevran ducked his head to her chest and languidly ran his tongue across her nipples, which hardened as the elf's saliva dried in the chill of the room.
"What do you say, amora?"
"Please, Zev." Kallian was writhing in Fenris' clutches, trying to push herself at the assassin, needing him to touch her now, to feel his mouth on her sticky skin.
"Mmm, nearly. You need to be more specific, shall we say?" Zevran smiled down at her, parting her thighs and moving his lean, taut body over hers, hissing as he felt his cock rub against her wetness.
"Zev… oh, Zev, fuck me. Please. I want to feel you inside me! I want you filling me, stretching me…" Kallian chanted, aching for his touch.
The assassin was momentarily disarmed by the passion in Kallian's voice, the pure wanton need for him that she displayed, but was soon back in control, tracing a path down her belly with his tongue, starting and stopping, blowing lightly on her skin as he left trails of kisses across her exposed body.
She mewled urgently as he lifted and parted her legs and dipped his head down between her thighs, which she obligingly curled around his neck and rested on his shoulders loosely. He muttered an Antivan curse under his breath as he took in the sight before him, this beautiful woman dripping with her longing to be filled, touched. For him, for them all. He shivered. Even for him, this was overwhelming.
"Please, Zev," she repeated, trying to stretch her body towards him, stopped only by the iron grip of the Tevinter elf, himself leaning into her and rubbing his own swollen cock against her backside.
Zevran ran a finger around Kallian's drenched clitoris, drawing a gasp and a tautening of her stomach. He smiled and continued his ministrations, light touches and gentle presses turning into more urgent strokes and finally he pushed his fingers into her, curving them against her walls as his mouth met her nub, his tongue encircling her and flicking against her most sensitive spot.
Just as she was beginning to wail his name he stood up, wiping his mouth.
"Any more of this… excellent… ale, good man?" he called out to the bartender, Corff, who had appeared in the doorway, thunderstruck. Corff nodded, eyes wide, and scurried off quickly to fill the order.
Kallian moaned, disappointment and exasperation coursing through her. No less than I deserve, she thought, but Maker I am going to kill that man.
Zevran grinned at her. "I am not done with you yet, mi amore," he whispered in her ear, then turned to the rest of their small group.
"You, dwarf. Come here."
Varric gulped and staggered to his feet, wobbling slightly as he made his way over to the trio of elves.
"And you, mage. Do I assume you wish to join the fun?"
Anders was sitting on the floor, glassy-eyed with lust, a distant smile playing across his features.
"Anders," Kallian blurted out. "Anders, I need you."
That got the mage's attention, scrambling to his feet and hurrying to her side, stumbling over the robes he had earlier discarded to the floor.
Kallian closed her eyes at the sensation of a hard pair of hands holding her body up for inspection by three other pairs of hands, roaming across her bare skin. She squirmed as tingles shot along her nerve endings and her now-neglected clitoris throbbed to be touched. She felt a mouth on her breast, on both her breasts, Maker, nipples being pulled and sucked into two pairs of lips, another mouth on her thighs, running a tongue slowly up and down her soft, damp skin, drawing close, closer… then moving away tantalisingly. The elf behind her leaning into her neck, biting her skin lightly, breathing into her ear hotly, full of want and passion and broken phrases.
Then another, fifth mouth on her own, this one tasting familiar, feeling like home. Alistair, she thought. My love. She opened her eyes to his hazel gaze, full of need and love and wanting. I love you she mouthed, soundlessly, under his warm lips. She felt his mouth curve into a smile before he deepened the kiss, pouring passion and longing and hunger into the pressure of his lips against hers.
Such was the power of the kiss that for a moment she forgot the feeling of men fondling her body, the presence of anyone else in the room. Then he was gone, stepping back away from her, surrendering her to the touch of others.
She arched her back, crying out as she became overcome with the sensations which flowed through her, every inch of her skin felt as if it were on fire, virtually every part of her being stroked and caressed simultaneously. She felt that everywhere was a delicious assault of fingers, lips, teeth, tongues. She was opened fully, spread like a banquet and being feasted upon by those who would worship her.
Only one part of her body was spared, and that was her sex, hot and aching, saturated with her craving to be touched just there. She became aware that she was whining, whimpering, pleading for someone to push her over the edge, to send her into the pulsing orgasm she wanted, Maker, so desperately needed.
Her voice, breathless, cracked and desperate, the same word over and over again. "Please, please, please…"
The mage pushing himself against her thigh, breath ragged as he tugged at her nipple with his lips, his fingers, burning with longing for her.
The dwarf panting as he bit down on the softness of her waist, breathing in the scent of her damp skin, flavoured with musk and sweat, frantically rubbing himself to completion, spilling his seed across her breasts with a loud groan.
The assassin, one of her closest friends, standing magnificent beside her, pushing his length against her lips, silencing her demands for more, want, please, her mouth opening to take him in.
The Tevinter elf, quivering as he held her aloft still, strong muscles flexing against her waist, hands damp with sweat on her belly, whispering incomprehensible words in her ear as his rigid cock pressed hard into the crease of her arse.
Her Alistair, hot eyed with lust, exhaling hard as he stroked himself to hardness yet again by her side, quaking rapturously as he watched the love of his life abandoning herself to the wild, clumsy, desperate embraces of four other men.
She moved her mouth greedily along the length of Zevran's shaft, her tongue swirling dreamily as she sighed against the heat of his velveteen skin. He thrust against her impatiently, finding her willing, tightening her lips around him as she struggled to take his insistent length. They fell into a rhythm of sorts, his hips snapping and her lips drawing him in, fiery and wet. She heard him cry her name, felt him spasm, arching his body against her mouth, and then he was coming hard, filling her throat with fluid. She swallowed reflexively, lapping at his softening cock with a gentle tongue as he panted heavily above her, smiling beatifically, as happy as she had ever seen him.
"We have tormented you enough, mi amore, I feel," Zevran ran a hand through her loose hair and nodded at the men surrounding her body.
"Oh yes, Zevran, please!" She thought she had never said please as much in her life as she had in the last hour.
She felt herself being carried, a chill in the air, a bed in the corner. She was thrown roughly on to the blankets and immediately covered by a lean elven body, hard muscle against her breasts, deep green eyes gazing into her own.
No words were spoken as Fenris nestled himself between her thighs and pushed forward, thrusting hard into her scorchingly wet core, crying out in shock and ecstasy as he felt her walls grip him tightly, like nothing he had ever imagined. He rode the waves of emotion coursing through him feverishly, driving deep and fast, over and over, feeling his cock pulse and throb, holding on to the last vestiges of control just a few more strokes and this can't be over already before it all became too much, far too much, and he abandoned himself fully within her, exploding in an orgasm which shook his entire body to the bones. He felt her thighs wrap around him, pulling him close as he softened inside her, her fingers running gently through his hair, and he collapsed against her chest, breath coming in short bursts which seemed almost like sobbing. He closed his eyes, struggling to regain his composure as he felt his flaccid cock slip slowly out of her warmth, and he rolled to the side, trembling, exhausted.
Kallian leaned over the elf, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered into his ear, before returning her attention to the other men surrounding her.
Zevran crawled on to the bed by her feet, moving up her body to plant a kiss on her forehead. The assassin was hard again, the agonised and awkward passion in her joining with Fenris having acted as a powerful aphrodisiac to his senses. He pushed her gently back on to the bedclothes, kissing her cheeks, her jaw, finally her lips. She responded eagerly, rocking her hips beneath him, needing to find her release. He moved agonisingly slowly down her body, nipping and kissing, running lips and tongue across her already heightened nerve endings and causing her to keen low in her throat, stretching out her arms for him impatiently.
He knelt back and grabbed her calves, lifting her hips from the bed and pulling her bodily towards him. Her legs wrapped around him, fitting naturally into the contours of his waist, his narrow hips. She moaned huskily as he slid slowly into her, shuddering at the sight of his length disappearing into her magnificent body, the feel of her enveloping him leaving him delirious with pleasure.
"Ah, you are a dream, dear Kallian," he breathed, eyes shuttering as he concentrated on the sensations flowing through him. He thrust steadily, shifting his hips fluidly and rhythmically, matching her writhing movements, more in control than the inexperienced Tevinter elf. He ran his fingers over her breasts, her nipples, twisting them gently and making her arch her back against him, begging him for more. He quickened his pace slightly, tilting her hips into his and pushing against her walls in just the right way. He smiled as she tensed and grabbed at the sheets, and reached down to press a finger against her nub and...
Oh Maker, stars in her eyes, sizzling through her as her whole body stiffened, lifted off the bed in the throes of the most incredible orgasm of her life. She screamed and wailed, ululating wildly as she came apart beneath the talented elf.
Zevran stilled while she thrashed around him, delighted at her reaction. Nice to know he hadn't lost his touch. He waited for her to quiet, twitching with aftershocks, then resumed gentle thrusting, smiling down at her.
Kallian sighed. "Oh, Zev. That was..."
"No need to say it, amora." He had felt something, too. Wanted to make this whole thing last. If not beyond today, if not beyond the next hour, then for as many minutes as he could spend with her, inside her, pretending.
Pretending not to notice as she stretched out one arm languorously and gripped Anders by the hand, pulling the mage down on to the bed, giggling devilishly even as he continued to move inside her.
Pretending not to notice her licking her lips lasciviously and turning her head to Anders' groin.
Pretending he couldn't see her mouth closing over the other man's swollen shaft, the mage kneeling over her, hands on her breasts, moaning.
Pretending she wasn't reaching for Varric with her other hand, wrapping it around the dwarf's cock and pumping lightly.
Brasca, he was bad at pretending.
With a savage grunt he slipped out of her and dragged her away from the protesting men, spinning her over on to her hands and knees before plunging back into her
hard and fast, fingers digging into her hip bones. She dipped her head to the blankets, biting her hand as Zevran hammered into her furiously from behind, deep and brutal, her body quivering with the force of the elf's thrusts.
She felt Zevran stiffen as he began to spill inside her, finally slumping over her back, hands squeezing at her breasts painfully and whispering her name into her ear in a tone of voice she had never before heard from the assassin.
Then he was suddenly withdrawing, his lithe body uncurling from hers in one swift movement, leaving her empty again with a chill on her back from his drying sweat. She rolled over and sat up, reaching for her friend, grabbing his hand and kissing the palm.
"Zev, you are wonderful. Your boasts were justified."
The elf smiled tightly and gave a bow of his head. "As are you, my lovely rogue. Alistair -" he glanced at the blond man leaning against the wall, "is a lucky man."
"I am, aren't I!" laughed the ex-Templar, voice uncharacteristically thick with lust.
"Luckier every minute, my love," Kallian moved from the bed to stand in front of her man, taking in once more the beauty of his honey eyes, shy smile, strong jaw... that broad chest... She would never tire of looking at him this way.
She ran her fingers thoughtfully down his golden-skinned chest, enjoying the hardening of his nipples as she brushed over them. Then she fell to her hands and knees in front of him, looking him in the eye as she took him in her mouth, swallowing his familiar thick cock in one move.
"Oh, Kalli, my love," he gasped, breathing hard as she slid her soft lips against him, cupping his balls the way he liked.
She enjoyed the taste of him, spicy and warm in her mouth, under her tongue. Closing her eyes, smiling at his hardness - she couldn't recall if she'd ever seen him this turned on before, this close to losing control - well, perhaps their first time together, but the warrior had calmed since then, had become a gentle and thoughtful lover. This - well, this was something else. For both of them.
As if to echo her thoughts, her eyes flew open as she felt a body lift her hips and push against her from behind. She looked up at Alistair, who was smiling lustfully.
"Take her hard, Varric," he choked out, before she felt the unmistakeable hairy thighs of the dwarf against her smooth skin, and her folds being parted by his stubby erection, pressing insistently into her.
Her lips stuttered over the man in front of her as she drew a breath at the feeling of being filled once more, then she relaxed into the dwarf's driving thrusts, pounding rapidly into her tight heat. She wriggled her hips, clenching hard around him, causing him to yell wordlessly.
Then Anders was there too, dropping to a crouch beside her, whimpering Please and need you, his yearning all too obvious. Poor man, she thought, he's the reason we're here and he keeps losing my attentions. She reached out to take him in her hand, balancing carefully on her other arm as Varric kept up his ferocious onslaught, sliding her palm over the mage's shaft, fascinating at the softness of the skin over the unbelievable hardness of his arousal.
She lost herself in the feeling of having one man buried inside the heat of her core, one in her mouth and another in her hand. All three were focused intently upon her, she the centre of their universe for that moment in time. Again and again she was filled, Alistair gently pushing between her soft lips as Varric frantically slammed against her wet centre, Anders jerking under her fingers.
Varric reached his climax first, gripping her so tightly she knew she would bruise as he emptied into her with a roar. As he withdrew from her, sweating and shaking, she felt Anders shuffle back, out of her grasp.
The mage stood, pushing Varric roughly to one side, and lifted her bodily from her position on the floor, her mouth leaving Alistair with a muted whimper of complaint.
"My turn." His normally warm, gentle eyes were blazing with unfamiliar fire. She felt a tremor race through her body as Anders carried her back to the bed, throwing her down and reclining next to her. He slipped his hands around her waist, lifting her above him as if she weighed nothing at all. Maker, he was stronger than she thought he would be. She shivered, feeling a frisson as his cock rubbed against her overused sex, still demanding more.
Anders pushed her thighs apart roughly and impaled her upon his shaft, grunting as she slid easily all the way down, her slit sodden with her own juices and the releases of her lovers. She squeezed her thighs around him and began to shift back and forth, rolling her hips, clamping him tight within her. The mage murmured her name, raising from the bed to meet her movements, hair wild across the pillows and eyes fixated on hers, searing with the need to take her, to feel her everywhere, to burn her, this sensual union, into his memory to revisit during all the lonely nights in his clinic.
His hands slid along her waist, cupping her breasts, thumbs stroking her nipples as she rode him, back curving as she sought the right angle, breath faltering as yes, there she found sweetness in the movement, inhaling sharply as she pressed herself against his length, grinding down hard.
Then Alistair was standing beside them, watching intently, the realisation of his fantasy from years ago coming true in front of him, seeing his love being taken to the realms of bliss on Anders' cock, her head thrown back, eyes closed and mumbling inarticulately, lost in her own pleasure. He stretched out a finger and experimentally rubbed Kallian's clitoris as she writhed and moaned, feeling how she was stretched taut around the mage, brushing against their joined bodies in wonder, pulling a gasp from both the mage and his lover.
Anders had been close to the edge for what felt like hours and now he felt himself rushing towards his peak, panting harshly and pushing into her uncontrollably. He stroked one hand along her belly, down to meet Alistair's questing fingers, finding her nub and – there – allowed a tiny spark of magic to leap from his fingertip, electrifying her as she howled and came hard, her walls pulsing tightly around him, tipping him into his own rapturous climax.
Alistair looked at the mage open-mouthed. "Well, that's not fair!" he pouted, comically. Anders simply winked. "Trick of the trade! Has to be some benefit to spending your whole life being hunted."
Kallian lay on her back on the bed, speechless with amazement at the night she had just shared with friends and strangers, sated and replete and fully satisfied. She gazed around at her companions with a lazy grin. Varric was clutching a bottle of ale as if his life depended on it and wiping his brow. Fenris was asleep on the rug, his face peaceful in slumber, lips curved in a rare smile. Anders relaxed on the bed, sticky with sweat and the fluids of their lovemaking. Zevran was… Maker, that elf, he couldn't still be… she had thought it was the Grey Wardens who were meant to have the most stamina. Talking of whom, Alistair was leaning over her saying something in her ear.
"Mmm, what? Sorry, my love."
He laughed. "Not surprised you're a bit dazed. I said, how about we go and see if they have a private room for us here, we can spend the night before heading back home in the morning?"
"Sounds good."
"And if you aren't too… worn out… perhaps…?" He raised an eyebrow.
She stroked his arm. "I'm not too worn out for you, my love."
They dressed slowly, not looking away from each other, smiling the whole time.
