They were about to settle down for the night when Ylva gave a small cry of distress and hastily threw on her tunic again. "Damn it! I promised Leliana I'd come by before bedtime. Don't wait up for me, will you?"
She was already at the door, flashing a sweet smile at both of them before she disappeared and left the two men alone.
Cullen awkwardly cleared his throat as he turned to face Barris. Their… agreement, for lack of a better word, included the provision that the two of them were free to follow up on their mutual attraction without Ylva present. Though I much prefer it if I get to watch you, she had added with a saucy wink. They'd rarely taken advantage of it so far, though. And now they found themselves alone in her quarters, just the two of them, with a fire burning merrily in the hearth, and the covers of the big bed pulled invitingly back. He swallowed.
Barris seemed to have read his thoughts. Making his way over to the fireplace, he leaned against the mantel and gave Cullen a long, knowing look. "Think she did it on purpose?"
"She just might have," Cullen muttered, rubbing his neck and avoiding the other man's gaze. "Wouldn't surprise me."
Barris nodded. "Is that a problem?"
And there it was. From one moment to the other, Barris' expression had turned serious, and there was genuine concern in his tone. And that, Cullen knew, was precisely why he would never be able to resist him. He could withstand even the most blatant attempts at seduction, he could harden himself against the man's sultry looks and the promise in his eyes. But there was nothing, simply nothing he could do in the face of Barris' quiet, gentle acceptance of his boundaries.
"No." Finally, he raised his gaze and met Barris' eyes. "No, it isn't. Come here."
Barris smiled, without a trace of smugness, and complied, melting into his arms. "I'm glad."
They had taken off their armour already and stripped down to their breeches, and the intense skin contact made Cullen gasp. Barris' skin was warm from the fire, and he smelled good, of soap and leather and the faintest hint of lyrium. Cullen closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, shivering when a faint echo of the old craving hit him. Barris was still taking his daily dose of lyrium, even though he knew what it was doing to him. His eyes had widened in fear when Cullen had told him it was possible to go without, and Cullen hadn't pressured him further. Maybe in time, he would gather the courage.
For now, though, Barris' whole body was buzzing with the lyrium's strange harmonies, its beguiling song, promising power and strength and, in the end, sweet oblivion. The voice of the Maker. Oh yes, it was tempting, even after all that time. Cullen's body responded with alarming swiftness to its call, or maybe just to Barris' proximity? It was hard to tell the difference.
Either way, he was utterly unable to resist the smooth dark column of Barris' throat. Slowly, he ran his tongue along it, tasting the saltiness of his skin, so soft behind the ears, so beautiful in the warm light of the fire. Barris made a small, helpless noise and stepped even closer, aligning himself for maximum friction, because they were both hard and eager now, with only the thin linen of their breeches separating them.
"Barris…" Cullen was dizzy with want, with anticipation, with hunger for Barris' mouth.
Their lips found each other practically of their own accord, and their kiss made the last vestiges of reason disappear. Together, they made their way to the bed, hands and mouths everywhere, teasing and exploring. Cullen's own clothes came off quickly, but he took his time with Barris' pants, slowly peeling them off to reveal him inch by inch.
Barris was staring down at his hands, panting hard. "Damn it, Cullen, stop tormenting me. I need more."
Cullen wanted to admonish him, make some sort of quip about his impatience, but he found that he couldn't. Because he, too, needed more. And Barris' cock was so beautiful, thick and hard and heavy in his hand. He faltered before he bent down to wrap his lips around it - the last time he'd tried this had been a lifetime ago. But all hesitation disappeared when Barris moaned deep in his throat and grabbed his head, holding him in place.
"Sweet Andraste, Cullen, you-" Another moan, deep and hungry, and his fingers tightened in Cullen's curls.
And it was the weirdest thing, because what they were doing was arousing and unsettling in equal measure. Cullen loved the taste of Barris in his mouth, salty and delicious and wonderful, but at the same time he felt strangely guilty for enjoying it. If his troops could see him like this, their commander, on his knees with his lips stretched around Barris' flesh, his eyes watering from the effort of taking him in deeper – what would they think? It doesn't matter what they would think. It's none of their business what you do in bed, a small logical voice in the back of his head pointed out.
Cullen wasn't quite sure he agreed, but he did his best to shake off the irritating thoughts, and instead redoubled his efforts to make Barris beg. And Barris did so, in a hoarse, breathless tone that was music to his ears. Cullen, yes, please, more, just a little, just a tiny bit… He sounded so needy, so desperate, as if he was at the end of his tether.
Involuntarily, Cullen's eyes widened as the realization struck him. He was the one in charge in this scenario, for all that he was down on his knees. And Barris knew, and he submitted to it with all his heart, Barris was ready to take anything he gave him. The rush of power was overwhelming, and Cullen was tempted to withhold the longed-for release a moment longer, just to savour it. But Barris was so close already, and he was whimpering now: please, Cullen, please, I can't – and he gave in, sucking harder and deeper, pushing Barris over the edge.
He had just about finished swallowing when the door opened and Ylva slunk in. She looked tired and sad, and her hand was clutching a sheet of paper, so hard that her knuckles had turned white. She was trembling like a leaf, and her lips looked chapped and raw.
Pushing Barris back, Cullen was on his feet in an instant, his own arousal all but forgotten. "Bad news, love?"
Against her will, Ylva felt tears rise to her eyes. She nodded, but her voice refused to obey her.
She'd been in the middle of a pleasant chat with Leliana when the raven had arrived, its black plumes ruffled by the stormy wind outside.
"A message for you, Inquisitor." Leliana's eyebrows had shot up close to her hairline. "From the Thane of Stone-Bear Hold."
"My mother." She'd known instinctively that this was bad news.
Taking her leave from Leliana as quickly as she could, she'd made for a quiet spot on the battlements and read the message. It had been short and to the point. Svarah Sun-hair didn't believe in sugar-coating tragedies. Those holes in the sky you've been dealing with in the lowlands? A few of them have opened up here, too. Our hunters got too close to one of them last night. They fought bravely against the demons, but three of them are badly injured, and Ragnar is dead. I am sorry, daughter. He died well.
There was more, other news from the hold, and things her mother felt she should know, but Ylva could no longer see clearly. Her eyes were rapidly filling with tears. She was glad she had chosen to be alone when she read the message. Out here on the battlements, with the cold wind blowing in her face, she could allow herself to cry, to grieve for her first love.
Ragnar. She could still see him, in her mind's eye, the way he had looked on their last evening together. His strong, muscular body, sprawled naked on the furs of his bed, the gleam in his blue-green eyes as he pulled her down to join him. Come, my little wolf. Let's enjoy this while it lasts, eh?
He'd been so strong, so tall, making her feel almost petite in comparison, though she was by no means dainty. Ragnar had been a true warrior, bearded and bloodied, full of life and laughter. At least he had died as a man should, in battle, with his axe in hand. He'd also apparently taken a new wife before he died, and fathered twin sons. They would carry on his name. Still, he had been so young! And now he was dead and cold and would never laugh or fight or make love again.
Somehow, she had managed to stop crying, somehow she had made her way back to her quarters, but she was frozen through, and half her mind was still back home, caught up in memories and grief.
"Ylva?" Cullen sounded deeply concerned as he pulled her into his arms. She gladly snuggled into his warm body.
Barris had half-risen from the bed, and he, too, looked worried. "What is it?" His voice was gentle, like a caress.
Ylva's throat felt too tight to speak. "Someone died. Back home."
"Someone you cared about very much." Cullen's grip tightened further.
He led her over to the bed and made her sit down. Barris was there immediately, and they were both embracing her, both holding her.
"Yes." Taking a deep breath, she met their eyes. "Ragnar. My first husband."
They both tensed. Barris actually cried out in surprise, and Cullen's pale cheeks turned pink. "Your first- Oh. I didn't realize-"
Ylva felt a familiar surge of irritation. Sometimes it was tiring, having to explain things all the time. "Look, it's not…" She exhaled in a frustrated huff. "We got married when I was seventeen, and it only lasted three years."
"You got married at seventeen?" Barris winced, and she realized how all this had to sound to him, to Cullen, to both of them.
"No, you don't understand. Maybe married isn't the best word to use…" Ylva sighed deeply. She wasn't ashamed of her people's customs, anything but. Still, from a lowlander perspective, this had to be weird. "Avvar marriages are temporary. We have this ceremony, where the groom has to undo several knots in a rope while the bride sings a hymn. The number of knots he manages determines how many years the marriage will last."
Cullen nodded slowly. "So him and you… you only got three knots. Three years."
"Yes." Ylva smiled, a little wistfully. "I wouldn't have minded renewing our vows after that, but my mother wouldn't have it. She said we were both too young to settle down."
"So…" Barris sounded tentative. "Were there… other husbands, beside him?"
"One. But that was different. He-" She broke off. It was too complicated to explain right now. "Ragnar was special. He was my first. And now he's dead."
"I'm so sorry." Cullen shook his head, regret clearly written on his face.
Barris nodded, his face sombre. "Me, too. I'm very sorry for your loss."
Ylva wasn't sure, but she thought she could detect a hint of reserve in his demeanour despite his words, and it made the sadness flare up again. For a moment, she desperately wished she was back home, among her own people. They would understand, they wouldn't make her defend herself at such a time.
"Look, if it bothers you that I've been married…" she said, raising her head high and glaring at both of them.
Cullen sighed, looking weary. "Ylva. It doesn't bother me at all. And I don't think Barris has a problem with it either."
He shot a meaningful look at Barris, who got the hint. "I do apologize, Ylva. We shouldn't have badgered you. We should have respected your grief."
She nodded stiffly, accepting their apologies, but she was shivering all over, partly from the cold, partly from the onslaught of emotion.
"Come to bed now." Cullen's voice was soothing. "You miss home, don't you? Do you want to talk about it?"
Ylva hesitated. Her first impulse was to snap at him, to tell him to leave her alone, but then she found, much to her own surprise, that she wanted to tell them, to make them understand.
Stretching out between them, she took a moment to collect her thoughts. "It's hard to describe. You see, life in an Avvar hold is rough. Most of the time, we barely scrape together what we need to survive. But we stick together, and we laugh and we sing a lot, and we take care of each other." Involuntarily, she smiled at the memory. "I grew up tussling for food and attention with a bunch of siblings and cousins. I was the thane's daughter, and my mother made sure all her children learned how to read and write, and do their numbers. But in the afternoons I was out and about, hunting and fishing, and learning how to fight, just like all the others."
And later there had been tussling of a different kind, but it was probably better not to go into too many details. Even before Ragnar and she had bonded, there had been plenty of exploration going on among the younger folk of the clan. And when he'd come for her at night to take her home to his hut, it had been with her full consent. The lowlanders might call them barbarians, but no Avvar man would take a wife against her inclination. They knew better.
"If that's how the Avvar teach their women to fight, we'd better beware if we ever meet them." Barris sounded awed. "I've seen you in battle, Ylva. You're amazing."
"Well, thank you." She smiled at him, momentarily forgetting her sorrow and her anger. "But I haven't just had Avvar training, you know. Cullen taught me a lot." She included him in her smile. "And so did Cassandra. And Ser offered to teach me Templar abilities, but-"
"No." Cullen's face darkened. "I don't want you to go there. Please, Ylva. You know what it cost me. It's not worth it, love."
Barris shifted uncomfortably, but didn't say a word.
Ylva sighed. "Let's not discuss this tonight. Just… Hold me, please. Both of you."
Barris wasn't sure what to make of it all. It was just too much to take in in the course of one evening, too many surprises and not all of them entirely pleasant. Cullen's hot mouth around him, driving him to distraction – now, that had been amazing. He hadn't expected Cullen to be quite so good with his mouth, and he hadn't anticipated what it would do to him to see the Commander like that, lips bruised and eyes hooded as he took him in. He couldn't help but wonder what else Cullen would be willing to do, once he'd overcome his initial scruples. Barris' own experiences with other men were fairly limited, but with the right partner he could easily imagine going further.
Either way, it had been mind-blowing, and then Ylva had shown up before he'd even had time to recover, and the things she'd told them had left him both jealous and vaguely aroused. It was all too easy to imagine her with various lovers. Easy and exciting, and maddening for various reasons.
Now she was in their arms, but she needed to be comforted, and Barris did his best to clamp down on his renewed desire. Still, he kept thinking of Cullen who had been so eager, so worked up, and whose needs had been neglected so far, and that line of thought did nothing for his own peace of mind.
Ylva was wiggling between them, and he flinched as her hand brushed against his hardening cock.
"What's the matter?" Glancing up at him, she frowned. "Anything wrong?"
He stared at her in surprise. "Well, I… I assumed you had other things on your mind, and I didn't want-"
"Bullshit." Ylva's voice was as clear as a cold spring morning in the mountains. "Everyone knows that the best way to laugh death in the face is by making love. Trust me, I wouldn't get into bed with two gorgeous men if I didn't want them."
"But, love, don't you think-" Cullen's tone was warm and soothing, but it completely failed to mollify her.
"That's just it. I don't want to think." She shook her head irritably. "Come on, guys. You know what I want. Or maybe…" The look she gave Barris was deliberately provocative. "Maybe Cullen has tired you out already?"
He knew what she was doing, but even so, he couldn't resist the bait. "No way."
Before she knew it, he was on top of her, grinding against her heat to let her feel how ready he was for her. And she responded with a delighted laugh, wrapping her legs around his waist to pull him even closer.
Behind her, Cullen groaned inarticulately. "Ylva. You are impossible."
"Yes. And you love it." She sounded completely unrepentant as she twisted her head to offer her lips to him.
Cullen kissed her deeply, and Barris felt his own excitement grow by the minute. Maybe Ylva was right. Maybe this was the best they could do, to banish the ghosts of the past with the heat of their love-making.
With trembling hands, Barris undid the laces on her tunic and helped her wiggle out of it, then looked on as Cullen untied her shirt and pulled it over her head. Only her breastband remained, and he took care of that, sighing along with her as the smooth flesh spilled from its confinement. He adored Ylva's breasts, had done so from the moment he'd first set sight on them, and it still took an effort to remind himself that he was allowed to touch them. Gently he cupped them with both hands, revelling in how perfectly they fit his palms, shivering with instinctive pride when her nipples grew hard under his touch.
Cullen' hand had already wandered lower, removing her pants and parting her legs with a sure touch. Ylva was moaning unrestrainedly, her eyes half closed, her cheeks flushed with lust. The mere sight of her, naked and willing in Cullen's arms would have been enough to drive a man mad.
Her eyes met his, and she smiled, and if there was a hint of sadness in her eyes, she seemed determined to ignore it. "I think it's Cullen's turn tonight." She wiggled around in their arms so she was facing Cullen, but she reached behind her with one hand to make sure he was still there. "But I want you here, Barris. I want you to watch closely."
Her tone was completely matter-of-fact, but even so, her words nearly made him come undone. But he did as he had been told. Moving in behind her he watched over her shoulder, watched as she straddled Cullen, watched Cullen slide inside her, slowly, carefully, watched Cullen's face, the way his eyes closed in utter delight.
Ylva's head sank back against his chest, and her breath was coming in quick gasps. "Cullen. Yes. So good."
For a heartbeat, Barris felt left out, almost offended by the look of bliss on her face, because he wanted to be the one who put it there. He wanted to be the one responsible for those delicious little noises she was making, for the way her stomach tensed and her skin rippled with gooseflesh.
But Ylva was already taking hold of his hands, moulding them around her breasts again, and Cullen had opened his eyes, staring at them, as if it was the most exciting thing he'd ever seen. And Barris knew with sudden clarity that he wasn't just an afterthought. They wanted him here, both of them, and that knowledge was intoxicating beyond measure. In fact, if not for Cullen's earlier efforts, he would never have been able to command enough patience for this.
Cullen began to move, small, shallow thrusts at first, but they were so close together, all three of them, that Barris felt each and every one of them all the way through his body. He did his best to support Ylva, and she herself wasn't idle either, rolling her hips in perfect counterpoint to Cullen's strokes. And Barris was torn, more than he could ever recall being torn between two desires, because he wanted her so badly, but at the same time he didn't want this to end, wanted to keep looking, to soak up every detail, every expression on their faces, every twitch and shudder of their bodies.
They were moving faster now, and Ylva was moaning, clearly close, but not quite there. On impulse, Barris decided to help her along. Slowly he trailed his hand down her stomach, finding the place where their bodies were joined, shuddering again when he felt Cullen slide in and out of her. Ylva whimpered when she felt his touch, and he knew he had to be careful. He let his fingers flutter against her flesh, the faintest hint of a touch, and it was enough. She came with a stifled cry, hiding her face against his shoulder, and he was pretty sure her cheeks were wet from tears, but he wisely refrained from commenting.
Cullen followed her straight away, the urgency of his final thrusts a testimony to how fiercely he must have been holding back. Barris had a perfect view of his face as he came, and that, too, was immensely exciting.
Fortunately, they didn't keep him waiting much longer. As soon as they had recovered, they teamed up on him, and everything became a blur. In the end, he couldn't have said whose touch it was that did it, whether it was Cullen's teeth scraping his nipple or Ylva's hand tightening around his shaft, or a combination of the two. All he knew was that he was bursting, exploding, dissolving into a million little pieces, and emerging whole again, bathed in light and warmth and sweet, sweet ecstasy.
They fell asleep together in a warm, soft tangle of limbs. Ylva was the first to doze off, with Cullen a close second. Glancing down at their sleeping faces, Barris felt a painful tug at his heartstrings. This wasn't how he had ever imagined himself falling in love. As a matter of fact, this was about as far as possible from any scenario he had ever envisaged.
And yet, it felt exactly right.
Oh my. This is starting to show hints of plot, I believe... *lol*
As always, huggles and thanks to my lovely beta suilven. You're the best! :)
