Everything felt too constrictive, too tight. Elizabeth had not lied when she said she could not breathe. Nathaniel smothered her with his presence, a looming figure representing everything she knew was wrong. He had lied to her. He had worked with a woman that tried to kill her. And yet, she did not want Nathaniel to go away. She was drawn to him in a way she could not explain with logic or reason.
Eyes trailed along the lines of his mouth. His lips curved smugly, as if he already knew what her response would be and was merely waiting for her to voice it.
She hated him in that moment.
Forehead pressed against forehead. Green eyes found grey in a stare. She was drowning. Guilt and desire collided. Nathaniel was not Alistair. Alistair had been her life. He had been everything light, good, and loving. Nathaniel was everything dark, bad, and hateful. The sentimental scars upon her skin, the longing, the pain, the hollow wounds of Alistair's passing that had yet to heal fully, all burned urging her to run Urging her to stay.
Of all those around her to break down the protections she raised around herself, Nathaniel proved the only one up to the task. Purposefully or not, he challenged her. Forced her to face a life beyond the winter of her guilt. Alistair died. She had not, no matter how much she wished she had.
Going through the motions, remaining detached was no longer an option. She was so tired of it all, having no energy to resist the rising tide of want and need she had obscured behind her duty as Warden Commander, behind the guise of the monster that killed her family. She wanted to feel something other than the weight of all she had done or failed to do.
She allowed her hand to rise, edging slowly through the small channel of space between them. Fingertips brushed against supple leather. The dust from the day's travel was still there, but she did not care. Her words, her actions determined the fate of others. For the greater good, she treaded the path of what was best for the whole, her own desires never accounted for. She plunged into foreign waters, her decision made within a flick fingers as they finally settled upon a buckle of his cuirass.
"I'm fine," she said, loud enough for those outside the door to hear. Her head tipped back, eyes' focus remaining upon Nathaniel. "You're dismissed for the night. I'll be fine." An intensity filled her stare. All the longing and hate mixed with a determination to continue what had been started.
Her voice low, she said to Nathaniel, "You are not dismissed." Her hand found another buckle, the latch and all reserve undone.
Nathaniel had his answer.
Ungloved fingers found the nape of her neck, deftly removing the pins that kept her hair in place. Hair spilled in loose and wavy tendrils down her chest and his fingers. Lips found her ear. He whispered huskily, "Good."
Her lips found his in an ungentle embrace and everything blurred. Images from the past of a little girl laying kisses upon her arm, to a lover's last embrace before an ultimate sacrifice flashed in her mind. They were the past. Nathaniel was the present.
The world swirled. Footing became unsteady, hands fumbled with laces, linen and leather. She craved skin against skin, mouth against mouth, the feel of him inside her. Decorum and the little games they played were cast aside. There was no Commander or subordinate, Howe or Cousland; there was only Elizabeth and Nathaniel.
The final clasp of Nathaniel's chest armor undone, Elizabeth's palms pushed against his chest, bidding him to take a step back. "I'll lock the door," she murmured, already moving toward it. She wanted no further interruptions.
The others would surely talk, whisper rumors of what was going on behind the closed door of Nathaniel's room. But, as she felt his weight lean into her, pressing her against the very door she just secured, the nip of his teeth upon her neck, and the dig of his fingers into her hips, she did not care.
Hands sought out Nathaniel as she turned to face him. Nervously, fingers traced a path shoulder to waist along his body, the peaks and valleys of his musculature explored until her hands rested upon his waistband. Thumbs hooked between leather and skin, drawing him to her once more, allowing her mouth to crash into his. Tooth and tongue savored the taste of him.
She felt the pull of hands at her own waist, the hem of her shirt drawn from her pants and lifted upward. A breathy rasp protested as Nathaniel pulled away from her, their kiss ending just long enough to free her from her blouse.
They took turns. Each piece of clothing removed a victory. Each scrape of battle calloused hands against the smoothness of bared skin a reward.
Sensation overwhelmed as he pulled away from her mouth once again, a trail of whispered promises edging down her neck to stop along the swell of a breast. Feather light, lips teased along the tip of a nipple causing her breath to hitch and her hand to bury within his hair. She could have sworn she felt his mouth tug into a smile at her response.
The world stood still and she gasped. Nimble fingers slid inside her. A throaty, "Nathaniel," creased her lips, her head rolling back against the door they had yet to move away from. Her leg lifted to hook about his waist, encouragement for him to continue.
But, he did stop, withdrawing almost as quickly as he began. The heat of his body melded into hers, Nathaniel drawing her into an embrace, his mouth finding her ear anew. The scrape of his teeth and the tickling tease of a shaky exhale sent a shiver along her skin. "Not against the door," he murmured.
Half-lidded eyes opened, his comment forcing her back into present and through the fog of muddled thoughts. Why not, she wondered for a moment before she realized the answer to her question. Let the others talk, but there was no reason to let them hear, as well.
She took his hand, intending to lead him to the bed. They made it as far as the hearth. A tangle of limbs and hungered kisses, they tumbled into a chair nearly, knocking it and them over before Nathaniel steadied them.
Her head rolled back, a breathy sigh escaping her mouth as his settled upon the pulse of her neck. Without having to be told, Nathaniel seemed to know her weaknesses, her likes. Each nip of the skin, each gentle caress of his tongue caused every feeling she had avoided out of a sense of despair-inspired duty forgotten to be completely overcome by a deluge of yearning that both terrified and excited her.
She needed and wanted him in a way she had wanted nothing else in quite some time.
The memories were there. What to do. What to touch and how. This knowledge did not stop the trembling of her hands as she reached between them, her touch settling upon his length. Finger and thumb brushing against the tip of him. The sound of his broken breath and the slow uplift of his head so that his gaze captured hers emboldened her to continue.
A hand upon his shoulder used for support, she rose slightly atop his lap, her free hand wrapping about him, slowly lowering herself atop him. Her breath sucked in, a lump of yes caught within her throat at the feel of him filling her.
Their eyes never left the other.
There was pride in the smile that so easily spread to life upon Nathaniel's mouth, a masculine sort of arrogance splashing self-satisfied in the face of her pleasure. Fervor fueled the kiss that bruised those upturned lips, her attempt to wipe away his grin.
It worked.
A growl grew in the back of his throat, low and wanton. Fingers that shadowed her hips shifted focus, a nipple pinched, the inside of her thigh stroked. Her moans came in a crescendo, a melody of unspoken pleas to not stop. Each jut of his hips was matched in equal intensity by the roll of hers.
She was completely undone at the roving path of his thumb. Gentle, yet not, the right amount of pressure applied and he shattered her to sand. What few threads of reserve remained were slowly untangled within their shared movement. The discord of fractured breaths and muffled cries sang rich and symphonic within her ears until the knot within her stomach finally unraveled completely, a final keening of yes and a flash of overwhelming white.
The pads of Nathaniel's fingers pressed firm into her skin, pinpoints of demand shifting their focus to the curves of her bottom, guiding her faster and harder as she rode the cresting wave of her release. Her weight fell upon his hands, letting him lead the way. She trembled against him, unable to think, unable to move, only able to feel and pant.
Her legs quivered, Nathaniel's thrusts unrelenting, fevered until in a moment of fiery culmination his body tensed in a final buck. His mouth pressed against a shoulder blade, teeth biting down, just barely avoiding the breaking of her skin as the spasms rocked his body. He cried out, a breathy rasp muffled against flesh.
They sat there like that, still, ensnared within the other's grasp, for some time. Elizabeth wanted to pretend, to forget all the decisions and troubles that awaited her outside the confines of Nathaniel's room. She wished to wade within the dark and murky waters devoid of responsibility just a little longer.
She moved her head to rest against his shoulder. The feel of his fingers as they began to comb through her hair was too relaxing, too comforting, none of those things expected or even felt she deserved. Voices repressed within a moment of passion demanded attention. Within the afterglow of a moment, inklings of regret began to return, scratching and clawing.
An attempt was made to silence their call, lips brushing gingerly along the sweat glistened slant of his shoulder. Not now. Later. Just a few more minutes, a few more hours. She was owed as much, was she not?
Nathaniel broke the silence between them, a softly spoken mention of her name, "Elizabeth," accompanied by a lingering kiss atop her head.
She lifted her head and pressed a finger against his lips, "Shhh." She did not want to talk, did not want the illusion of the lie she painted with a brush of the truth to be shattered, not yet.
.
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.
.
Nathaniel had been impulsive, jumping over the precipice of uncertain and into the jagged waters of action. Elizabeth had told him he would live, that she would not send him to the gallows for his betrayal and yet, he could not leave it at that. The smart man would have let the Commander leave the room, counted his blessings and appreciated the air he was allowed to continue to breathe.
There were many in his life that would not have called Nathaniel a smart man.
He pressed his luck, unable to let her walk out of the room without hearing some truth of his own. His mind had been set earlier in the day and the twisting tides of circumstance did little to smother his need to know.
Nerves were hidden behind a veneer of imperious confidence. He did not slink away, a scared child content to sup upon the scraps of her mercy or hide behind the banner of I'm sorry. He asked his questions and received the answer he suspected but could not confirm until then.
Whatever it was between them was not imagined, not anymore. They fed upon the other. Restraint, reserve, the boundaries that kept them separated and distant were cast aside making everything seem as it should be.
Coolness gave way to heat.
Indifference faltered in the face of passion.
Hatred submitted to need.
But in the rightness of it all, the wrongness did not temper its flare. The last tremors of release already fading into memory, a myriad of wonderings infringed upon the simple quiet of contentment.
What now?
Does this change anything?
What does it all mean?
The puzzle remained still; he had merely found a few more pieces.
He was no fool to believe there was some deeper meaning in their liaison. Simply because they had succumbed to baser needs did not make the complications of their lives disappear. They had come together as two people, their titles and positions disregarded. But he knew that could not remain. In the harsh light of the day, they would separate. She was still his Commander. And a Cousland. He was still just a Grey Warden. And a Howe.
A truce had been sealed within a moment of true connection. How long could it last? He tested the waters. His lips brushed against the top of her head; her name, a whisper upon his lips.
But she did not appear to want to speak. Her head rose, a finger pressing against his mouth, silencing him.
If not now, when, he wanted to ask her, but instead he kissed her finger. He knew the answer, of course. When they had to, and not before. And as much as he wished to face the dawn and all that would come in the light of a new day, he could appreciate the desire to hide within the reticent shadow of night.
A first kiss had been proceeded by a desperate compulsion to feel and consume. Something more primal and urgent infused what followed. No time was taken to linger, to tease. And as he looked into green eyes he wondered what Elizabeth would look like squirming beneath him. Exquisite, he thought. The yearning to investigate, to learn, to find all those places on her body that would make her skin sing and lips cry out his name in a plea began to take shape.
Nathaniel planned to make the most of what time they had left before the realities beyond the threshold set in. His finger slid along her side, following the curve of a hip, up her side, along a shoulder, against the slant of her jaw and eventually settled upon her lower lip, lightly tracing its contours. Her mouth opened slightly, allowing his finger to glide inside. Teeth pressed down upon him, nipping playfully as she smiled at Nathaniel.
That first time he realized his attraction to her it came within the revelation of a smile, a smile he had wanted to wipe away with the crush of his lips. He had splashed cold water upon his face, attempted to rid himself of the craving. It had not worked. And now, faced with such a smile once again, he did what he could not that first time.
Hands cradled her face within their grasp, drawing her to him. And as his mouth found hers, insistent, determined, he felt her surrender.
Nathaniel took hold of Elizabeth, lifting her along with him as he rose from the chair. She did not protest, but he had not expected her to. Neither of them was done with other. Her legs wrapped about his waist, arms locked behind his head and lips and teeth began fresh abuse of his neck.
She would leave him marked, he was sure, but these were wounds he was not at all eager to have healed.
He carried her to the bed and allowed her to fall back upon the coverlet as he let her go. In the dim candlelight offered by a sconce upon the wall, he took in the picture of her – elbows propped against the mattress, her half sitting, half lying down, all in wait of him.
Take your time, Nathaniel, he told himself.
And he did.
He took the time to memorize the angles, curves and lines of her body with the tip of his tongue and the touch of his hands.
He took the time to savor the shudder that vibrated along her body as he sent her over the edge, his head between her thighs.
He took the time to be completely lost within the everything - the clutch of her legs about his waist, the raking of fingernails along the sweat-glistened skin upon his back, and the feel of her surrounding him.
He trembled against her, a moan muffled against the softness of her mouth. He had taken all the time he could, but he knew the morning would intrude soon. There was no more to time to spare.
They laid there together, her body cradled against his. He gazed outside the window. The orange tendrils of light that foreshadowed the coming dawn had yet to appear. Brushing a kiss against her ear, fingers entwining about hers, he pulled her more tightly against him and relished in the tactile.
What awaited them, he did not know. But he dared hope that they were through with the lies.
AN: As always thank you to my betas. This chapter would not have happened without you! And to my readers? I love you just as much (like if y'all didn't realize that)