Same disclaimers as last chapter. Blah blah, rated M for sexy time, blah blah, long chapter :P
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She didn't see him cross the space between them. One second he was a few paces away, the next his hands were all over her and his tongue was sliding between her lips. She gasped inside his mouth at the heat that exploded across her skin at his roaming touch. A second later, the rest of their clothes were off. Gods only knew who took what off whom.
Sierra felt his hands slid over her backside and, without much warning, Alistair lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around with waist with a moan as they made their way to the fur spread across the ground. The way down wasn't graceful. The pain of it was completely lost in the more important things going on. Like him pushing himself inside her…
The sensation robbed her of all thought, all coherency. Her back arched off the ground with a spike of electricity. She vaguely knew he'd finally broken the kiss, but it was the growl that leaked passed his tightly gritted teeth that grabbed her attention. An iota of control remained in her, just a little one. She managed to wrench her eyes open and push a restraining hand on his chest. "Easy, dear one," the elf gasped. "Breathe."
The feral look in his eyes made her breath catch in her throat, almost made her regret the interruption. He held himself above her, arms shaking with restrained fervor. "Am I hurting you?" he whispered.
Sierra saw the confidence fading, the fear returning, and she spoke quickly. "No! Not even close, Alistair. Just try to pace yourself. You'll enjoy it more."
"Pace myself?" he panted. "Yeah, that's not really going to happen, just letting you know."
"Fair enough," she giggled. "Forget I said anything." She'd tried. Another movement of his hips banished any thoughts of cautioning him any further. She grabbed handfuls of his hair as he started to find a rhythm, little mewling sounds pushing out of her half-opened mouth. Gods, how long had it been? Sierra couldn't remember, but what she was definitely sure of was that it had never felt like this. This good, this complete.
She felt it coming before he did. It started as a rumble in his chest that erupted from his throat as a shout of surprise and release. Her arms embraced him as he collapsed on top of her, head on her breasts, trembling and gasping. The elf hummed a little tune under her breath as she trailed her fingertips over his back. From what seemed like a hundred miles away, she could still hear the rest of the camp singing and dancing. Good. The more occupied they were, the better.
Still shaking, he raised his head up at last. She smiled at the look of wonder and awe in his amber eyes. "Holy Maker," he whispered. "That was…that was…incredible!"
"Glad you enjoyed it."
"What have you done to me? I'm fairly sure my bones have all magically turned to jelly."
She giggled. "That happens. You'll survive."
Eyebrows coming together with mild concern, he asked, "Was it…all right? For you, I mean."
"Darling, it was," her smile broadened, "incredible."
"You're having me on," he laughed. "For someone with your experience, I'm sure I was a disappointment."
"Alistair, you were not-"
He raised a hand to stop her. "That being said, I plan to earn 'incredible'." He settled his chin between her breasts and looked up at her. "Tell me how to please you."
"If you're ready to go now, I severely underestimated your stamina!" Sierra said in surprise.
Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly. "Not just yet, but I wish you to give me a very thorough lesson. I'll be ready by the end of it, I'm sure."
At the word "thorough", she felt her stomach twist with delight. "If you insist."
"Tell me exactly what you want, sweetheart. Don't spare me anything."
"Wouldn't dream of it. You can start by kissing me…everywhere."
He grinned and placed a melting kiss on her lips. "I can handle that."
As his lips began their travels, his hands caressed her stomach. She felt her muscles contract with an intensity she wasn't familiar with. Giddy laughter almost pealed out. Apparently, a novice Grey Warden had more power than a few Dalish hunters. How embarrassed those young men would be. "Harder," she whispered as he made it to her neck. He complied without a word, and it tore a moan from her lips.
"Oh, this is fun."
"Bite, just a bit," she begged. When his teeth clamped around the muscle at the base of her neck, Sierra gasped. He continued down, getting to her shoulder. After a moment's hesitation, he bit her upper arm. The shock of it curved her spine.
"Ah, yes. This is my new, favorite activity," he laughed deep in his throat. Coming back to her chest, he let his tongue drag around the mound of her breast. "Bite?" he asked innocently.
Sierra couldn't really speak at the moment. Nodding frantically, she dug her nails into the fur on the floor as he did as she bid.
"I don't think I've ever excelled at a subject quite so well in my life," he said dryly.
The elf lost herself completely as the almost-templar made his way down her body. There was biting, licking, kissing, and light touches. She lost track of where exactly his lips were. It was all bundled into a constant flow of sensation that spiked into the base of her brain in time with the beating of her heart. It was also spiking somewhere else.
"Alistair, please," she whined, grabbing handfuls of her own hair and yanking. "I can't take-"
"Almost there," he assured her.
She felt the stubble on his cheek rake delicately against the inside of her thigh, and she couldn't breathe for an instant.
"Can I…?" he trailed off suggestively.
"Yes!" she demanded.
"You are the most gorgeous woman in the world, do you know that? Especially from this angle."
"Alistair-!"
"Yep, got it."
With the first tentative stroke of his tongue, she forgot everything. The rest of the group nearby, the snow, the Blight, her clan, her name. He licked everywhere, experimenting with great care. "There!" she cried out when he reached the sensitive clump of nerves hidden near the top. "Right there. Oh, Gods, don't stop."
"I'm damn sure I've never seen anything sexier than your begging," he said with a hint of awe in his voice. Without warning, he slid his finger inside her at the same time he flicked his tongue against the spot she'd indicated.
A phrase in her native language rolled off her tongue as her hips bucked, fingers knotting themselves into her hair further.
"Maker's breath…" Alistair whistled quietly. He didn't say anything else; his mouth was suddenly otherwise occupied.
Sierra lost her sense of self as liquid heat surged through her again and again. From a distance, like she wasn't part of her own body anymore, she could hear the constant cries of desire that fell from her lips. Also from a distance, she felt all her muscles begin to tense. For some reason, the image of a plate balanced on the edge of a table plastered itself across her brain giddily. The plate teetered on the brink; one good breath would send it tumbling over to smash on the floor.
It fell.
Her back rose almost all the way off the floor, only to go limp and drop down again. Her body writhed and twisted. She called his name over and over again as the waves of ecstasy pounded through her in nearly continuous rapture.
When it finally stopped, when she knew her name and where she was again, she opened her eyes slowly. Her fellow Warden had moved next to her, his one arm under her head, the other across her stomach.
"Thought I'd try to keep you from breaking your head open," he teased, a hint of smug pride in his voice.
Normally, that kind of teasing would've irritated her, but not tonight, not with him. He'd learn. Sierra sucked in huge mouthfuls of air, waiting to see if her heart exploded. Hmm, imagine that, it was still intact. Trembling invaded all her limbs, and she tried to slow her breathing to a more acceptable pace.
"You'd earned it already, but you wouldn't listen. Do you believe me now that you're incredible?" she asked when she could speak properly again.
"I believe everything you say, you know that." He nuzzled her neck, kissing lightly around her ear.
"Scoundrel," she accused. "So, you all rested up?"
"You bet," he said confidently.
"Good." Rolling sideways, she flipped him onto his back. Grabbing his wrists, she pinned them to the floor. "Because I've been easy on you until now." The elf took one final deep breath and rolled her shoulders. All feelings of shaking limbs and mushy muscles had been dispelled. She gave him a fierce grin. "Ready for another lesson?"
Alistair's jaw fell open briefly, but he closed it quickly. "Teach me, my beautiful elven maiden."
It was hours later, with Alistair breathing the even, slow breaths of those deeply asleep, when Sierra got up. Feeling no shame, she wrapped a blanket around herself and left their little room to go near the fire.
Oghren lay passed out cold a few feet from the fire, snoring louder than a bear. The mabari, near the dwarf, snuffled loudly in his sleep, as if he were on the scent of something. Sten was leaning against the wall near the entrance, eye closed. Wynne was no where in sight, presumably in one of the tents. Morrigan's pale feet stuck out from underneath her shelter. Leliana and Zevran were playing cards near the fire.
"What are you two doing up?!" Sierra demanded.
"Well, you usually organize the watch," the bard answered. "Since you were, ah, busy, we figured we'd just do it ourselves."
"Interesting choice of attire you have there, Grey Warden," Zevran mused. He craned his head down and around, attempting to see underneath the blanket. "I approve."
"You stayed up all night?" Sierra was shocked…and touched.
"We won't be going anywhere today. Your snow has made that quite impossible," the assassin answered. "We can catch up on sleeping while we wait for the walking to be a bit easier."
"Well, get to bed!" she ordered, but the grin on her face undermined her authority a bit.
Leliana got to her feet and curtsied. When she rose, her smile told Sierra she would be forced to tell all the details in the very near future. "Come on, Zev," she said, bouncing to a vacant tent. When she saw the look on Sierra's face, she added. "It's nothing. We're just sleeping in the same tent. We're not doing anything."
"Ah, she wounds my heart so. Such cruel rejection." The elf grabbed his chest and staggered a few paces.
"Get on with it, Zevran. Sierra wants some quiet time," Leliana scolded.
The assassin obediently followed the bard. At the tent entrance, he turned around to look at Sierra. "By the way, Dalish. I have my answer to the capacity of your lungs."
"That so?" She fought to keep the blush minimal, but it was difficult. She met him stare to stare, though.
"Yes. Your Alistair is indeed a lucky man." Winking at her, he disappeared behind the tent flaps.
Shaking her head, she walked quietly over to the cave entrance. Zevran had spoke the truth. A good deal of snow blanketed the ground. They weren't trapped by any means, but it wouldn't be easy going. Waiting a day or two would probably be beneficial.
The sky was beginning to lose its ink-black hue as blue crept over the horizon. The sun would rise soon, and Sierra was glad to see it. What better thing to follow a night such as hers than a sunrise over new-fallen snow?
She wasn't standing there for very long before she felt his presence thrill down her skin an instant before he wrapped his arms around her and pressed his body into her back.
"You left me," he said in her ear sadly. "So cold and…alone."
"I just came to see the sunrise." They stood in silence for a few minutes. "Well, I promised you some time together. Apparently, the Gods agree." She gestured to the snow.
"Apparently," Alistair echoed, smiling against her unbound hair. "I'm certainly not complaining." He spun her around to face him. "Are you out here with no clothes on, woman?"
"Maybe."
"Go put some clothes on, for Andraste's sake!" He pushed her toward the back of the cave. "I'll make you some tea."
She did as she was told. When she reemerged, he was crouched by the fire, staring into its flames intently. A pot of water with rapidly melting snow in it was balanced precariously near the fire. Folding her legs gracefully, Sierra placed herself next to him.
Smiling, he sat down. The elf held out the blanket, and he draped it around both of them. Once it was secure, he slid his arm around her waist. "Thank you," he said after several minutes of silence.
"For what?"
"For last night. As far as I'm concerned, it was about as close to perfect as I could've hoped. You never made me feel stupid, or awkward. You were just…you. Thank you."
Sierra rested her head on his shoulder. "Yes, it was…perfect. Thank you, too." She snuggled closer to him. "We'll stay together, no matter what."
"Right," he agreed, holding her tighter. "I think I can handle that."
"Oh, Leliana," Sierra whispered.
"What? What's wrong?" the bard demanded. "You've been quiet for so long, I-"
The elf turned to face her, tears carving shining trails down her face. She bit her lip to stop its quivering.
"You were…remembering, weren't you? That night in the cave?" she asked gently.
Sierra nodded, unable to speak.
"You're going to find him, save him. I know it," the Orlesian assured her, squeezing her hand. "What?"
The Grey Warden was shaking her head back and forth furiously.
"What do you mean, my friend? Of course you'll save him."
"I know I'll save him!" she blurted out. "But, Leliana- I miss him so much! This won't bring him back to me!" She felt herself shatter into pieces. Throwing her arms around the bard's neck, she sobbed brokenly.
Leliana's comforting embrace and soothing words helped, but they were not what Sierra needed. She'd never have what she needed again.
