AN: (Yes author's notes suck.) So! This was written as an expansion of chapter 11 of Blood Poison but I didn't post it here back then because I was too shy. But I guess I know you guys and you seem all right so I'll share it here, too. It has the hallmarks of my earlier writing but I'll leave it as-is for historical accuracy. Man, my earlier writing days back in May, I barely remember what we were like then, am I rite?

Warning for mild BSDM. Also, you're welcome for BSDM.


Blood flew past Zevran's ear to the ogre and the great beast turned around, charging into the row of darkspawn archers to the left. The archers to the right all fell to the ground at once, writhing in pain. He started toward them, but quickly halted when the lightning started to fork. He watched as the ogre fell, not even struggling against Oghren's axe.

Neria, who had slain the entire mass save the ogre without touching one, stood quietly and alone. Her body was made of light, as if she were crafted of lantern glass. As he watched, even her blood did not turn red until it dripped from her fingers.


Neria, the stench of death still upon her, lifted the crown and told the lie that would give the dwarves a strong king. Motes of magic fell from her skin in shining wisps of green and whispers trailed behind her when she walked away.


He opened his door that night to find Neria on the other side of it, hair nearly dry from a bath, standing barefoot in mage's robes. He could not easily recall the last time he had seen her awake without magic stroking visibly on her skin. He waved her in and closed the door behind her.

"What have you come here for, hmm?" He brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers and her eyes closed. He traced her throat with the lightest of touches and her breathing hitched. He felt her hands upon his legs and slipped away from her touch, around her.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and tipped her over just a little, grinding against her bottom. He bit the nape of her neck, then sunk his teeth harder, hard enough for pain, and heard that little double-stop in her breathing that was for this woman as good as crying out his name.

"So eager tonight and so quiet." He licked the skin at the base of her neck and released her. "Take off your clothes and get into bed."

She was crouched on the bed when he came to her with the ropes. He saw the sudden fear in her eyes and one part of him was glad that she was not so foolish as to forget that he was an assassin, but another confusing part of him was wounded by it. It was this second part that drove him to smother her protest with a hard kiss, to gather her wrists together and push her back. To grip her hands above her head without reassuring her.

When he started winding rope around her wrists she began to pull away, so he relented (a quick flash in his mind of burned creatures that had died because she had willed it so). "You will like this," he said, and he heard the rough panting in his voice, his control slipping with his confusion. "To be touched without being able to touch."

He allowed the edges of his leather armor to scrape over her bare skin as he crawled to her feet. He slid his hands along the insides of her legs to spread them before binding her ankles to the frame of the bed. This done, he immediately slid back to bury his mouth between her legs.

He worked quickly, spread her open with his tongue before he laved the swelling bud hidden there. He suckled to keep contact as her body arched; her breathing stopping entirely. He felt her tremble and immediately released her to bite the muscle of her thigh hard. She thrashed, carefully silent even now. She would make an excellent assassin, but only in bed.

He knelt up and reached for her nipple while undoing the buckles on his armor with the other hand. He watched her dark eyes as her breathing came quick. "I want to hear your voice, my Warden," he said, voice gone even rougher. He pulled the leathers over his head and bent to take her whole breast in his mouth while he pinched and twisted the nipple of the other. She arched again, her breathing halted. "Where is your voice?" He moved to kiss the abused nipple while his hand stroked down and slipped into her wetness. Ropes creaked as she struggled to rub herself against his hand.

He pulled his hand away and lifted his head and was rewarded by a small sound, little more than a sigh with a tiny hum behind it. He glanced up at her face. "What was that?" He stroked his wet thumb down that bundle of nerves between her folds and lifted his hand again.

She whimpered this time and before the sound was fully out of her throat his fingers were within her, his thumb moving back and forth quickly. The sound grew to a mewling and the moment she climaxed he was between her legs and thrusting hard into her body, ropes protesting at her ankles and her muscles clenching strongly around him again and again.

Just as her eyes opened he was lifting a dagger from the floor, enchanted with steaming frost. Her eyes went wide. He smiled and straightened above her, still buried within her heat. He rocked his hips; she swayed against the ropes. "Do you fear me, my beauty?" he purred while laying the cold flat of the blade against her naked thigh.

With the quick grace that he used in battle, he leaned back and slashed through the bindings holding her ankles. Ropes still trailing her feet, he folded her legs up and pounded hard into her. She screamed when she came again and the sound of it was joined to his rough cry as he found his pleasure.

He dropped his head to her soft breast and turned his ear to rest against her pounding heart. Her legs grew loose around his waist. The urge to be gentle overcame him so he turned his head again to kiss between her breasts and reached down to stroke where he had bitten her leg. "Did you like that, my friend?" he asked in a kind voice.

"Yes," she said, breathless. "Yes." He moved up to kiss her then, still buried in her warmth. He untied her wrists blindly and they continued kissing, both of them trembling a little, both cupping the other's face in their hands.