The damn pestle had gone missing again. Normally, Morrigan would simply have crushed the elfroot by hand, but her blasted wrists ached. The rope those fools used to bind her had chafed, and the lesser potion Zevran had given her hadn't chased away the pain completely.
The little bugger was found at the bottom of a sack of spellbooks. Morrigan tried to recall what series of events would have led to her not returning it to its home amongst her herbalism supplies, but the past days had been a blur of false leads, this last one the most annoying of all.
No sooner had she applied raw mottled elfroot on her pulsing wrists than she heard a cleared throat just beyond the flap of her tent. Anger seared through her veins - the type of heat she wished she'd felt hours ago. She knew exactly whose throat it belonged to, and it was one that didn't belong here.
As she snatched the flap aside, the throat-clearer staggered back, hands raised defensively for the second time tonight.
"Please don't kill me, Good Witch Morrigan." Anders grinned impishly, in a look she assumed was meant to look disarming, but it only made her want to arm herself more.
"Have you not wasted enough of my time tonight?"
He peered back around his shoulder before answering. No one in sight. Not even the Dalish sentries. "The question you should be asking is, 'Why would this handsome man risk breaking his promise to the elves to see me, an apostate traveling with a burly human who just retired to his tent and has a distinctly Templar-y look about him?'"
With a snort, Morrigan appraised the mage. He reminded her of all manner of Chastind men who had come and gone through her young years. Cocksure, needlessly risk-taking. Yet there was something about him that piqued her interest. Something she couldn't put her finger on. The dangerous allure of that something danced at the edges of her mind.
"Indeed, 'tis either foolishness or arrogance to come calling at all."
"I may be a fool, but I assure you, you want what I'm offering."
"Ah. Both then."
Anders laughed, a true laugh that creased the corners of his tired eyes. "Would you mind if I came in? I… have something for you."
Morrigan's heart leapt a fraction of a beat. She couldn't recall the last time someone had anything for her. Not a potion, not an ugly robe Elissa couldn't wear… but a gift.
"Two things, actually," he said, wetting his lips with a darting tongue. She wondered if he knew how devilish that made him look, or if that were simply part of his "charm."
"Very well," she spat. "But keep it quick and keep it quiet."
"Oh, no promises there, love," he muttered as he walked past.
"I have wards set up," she said, spinning on her heel to face him.
Anders clutched his chest. "Perish the thought that I'd hurt you, but the fact that you'd warn me? I knew you had a soft spot for me under all that…" He gestured in her general direction. "...scowl."
Morrigan took a steadying breath. The man was infuriating. And handsome. And she wanted whatever-this-was done with so she could get on with her packing.
She sighed. "You had something, Anders?"
The mage chuckled low in his throat. "Oh, I love how you say my name. Can you say it again? Angrier?"
A glowing ball of blue ice blinked into Morrigan's palm, nearly unbidden. She kept her gaze steady, hoping it would intimidate the man, but it was difficult to hide the curiosity that surged through her veins.
Anders held up a small leather sack.
Her eyes rolled, and she allowed the ball to dissipate into her hand. "Potions we have. Thank you. Good night."
Anders blew a laugh out his perfect nose. For an instant, Morrigan wondered how it might feel against… She banished the ghost of a thought from her mind.
He opened the bag's drawstring to display what was inside. A whole bushel of red Dawn Morels. Morrigan's jaw dropped.
"How did you -"
"There's a stand of those red oak trees just further south from where we were. You seemed so interested in them, when you left, I decided to root around the other trees."
"Well, aren't you something?" Morrigan swayed her hips as she closed the distance between them. "Do the Fereldan Farmers use you to find truffles too?"
Anders' shark smile widened. "I know what you're doing. And I know what Dawn Morels are used for."
"Cooking?" Morrigan said, eyebrows raised in a dare.
"Come now. I may be a fool, but you don't have to play one too. Either of us would get in some pretty serious trouble if it got out what they were truly for. So suffice it to say, your secret's safe with me. Promise."
He held out a calloused pinky. How long it had been since her smooth skin had been grasped under something so rough... Void, take these thoughts from her head!
She snatched the bag from his grasp. "Thank you, Anders. I'd say it's been a pleasure, but…"
"Well, that's the second thing, love."
"Excuse me?" She squared her hips. The man needed to be on his way before the whispers in her mind got any louder. "Give me one reason why I should listen to your prattling a moment longer."
Anders looked wounded. "Well, don't you want to practice?"
"Practice?!"
Anders inhaled, finger raised. Then he thought better of whatever he was going to say and closed his mouth. Nope, he opened it again. "Okay, now I'm genuinely worried you don't know what Dawn Morels are for, which would be bad, so I'm just going to tell you."
"So like a man..."
Anders wet his lips once more. After a moment, his eyebrows arched. "They're for sex rituals."
"Do you frequently proposition people like this?"
"Let me take a stab at what's to play out in the coming weeks, mm? You have in your possession rare Dawn Morels that you will use in some freaky sex ritual, which both intrigues me and is none of my business."
"Such self-awareness. And yet, you still speak."
Anders shook his head, incredulous, gazing at the ceiling of her tent. "I only know their effects because the illiterates running the Circle Library are ignorant of what wild tomes exist in the stacks."
Morrigan searched his eyes, hoping to find the ending punctuation that would have him take his leave. Because if her eyes kept getting transfixed on the hypnotic bob of his Adam's apple… No.
"My point is, there's one thing I read that I want to make sure you know."
Her head cocked. "Do you know what happened to the last man who tried to explain spells to me?"
"The ritual only works if... you know…"
Morrigan blinked slowly like a cat.
Anders cleared his throat. "...if everyone finishes."
Morrigan's jaw set hard. Whether or not she knew... was none of anyone's concern. She reached for her staff. "Prying into my herbalism knowledge, and now insulting my private life. However have you survived this long?"
The man nodded earnestly. "Oh, I absolutely ask myself the same. But I insinuate nothing about your private life. How long have you lot been traveling? Do you fancy any of your party?"
"Void. No."
With a demure shrug, he said, "Then it's been a while, has it not? If I work out some of that tension, you'll be better equipped to concentrate on the task at hand, as it were." His slow tongue rolled over his lips once more. "At the very least, it'll give you something to think about during the ritual."
Morrigan could scarcely believe she was considering his proposal. But the more she looked him up and down, the more his recommendation seemed… prudent. She needn't worry about him overstaying. And she did already plan to take care of her own needs before they left in the morning. To say nothing of the fact that she'd heard tell Circle Mages were known for their discreet trysts. Bah, now she was just looking for ways to justify what her core already longed for.
Anders peered up at her, from beneath a strand of hair that had broken loose from his ponytail. "Plus, how long has it been since you've been with a mage, hmm?"
"And what does that have to do with anything?"
He grinned wide. "Oh, I am so glad you asked. You're gonna be trying this on yourself every night until your little ritual."
Morrigan rolled her eyes, but her mind was made up. "Very well, Anders."
"Oh, there you go saying my name again. This is gonna be fun."
"If your robe is not off in less than a minute, I'm taking care of myself. This evening has gone on long enough."
"Ho ho, robe off, like I'm a proper gentleman?" He looked incredulous but nevertheless quickly began unbuckling the many belts that adorned his feathered robes.
"Shall I undress you too, my la-?" When the mage looked up from his unfastening, his jaw dropped.
Morrigan fixed her gaze on him, commanding and intense. It had been some time since anyone looked upon her standing naked before them. The heavy-lidded want in his eyes and uncharacteristic loss of words sent tendrils of desire coiling around in her belly. This sort of desire was definitely not going to be present during the Dark Ritual with… ugh . But perhaps Anders was right. Perhaps, if things went well, she could at least retreat to this night in her mind.
She walked deliberately to her furs and laid across them, unabashed and impatient.
When Anders shrugged out of his last bit of robe, the sight of his body caught her, too, by surprise. Chasind men were usually of two types. Burly warriors, brutish and often lacking in intelligence - reminded her of Alistair, come to think of it - and sinewy mages, whose tumbles were overeager and over quickly.
Anders' frame was a new mixture of the two, lean and muscular. Soft and scarred. Her mind dizzied imagining how those calloused hands and perfectly crooked nose would feel sliding up her thigh.
He knelt beside her and ran a hand over his face, blinking as he took in the sight of her.
"Morrigan." All hints of jest were now absent from his expression, replaced with raw desire. "I'd quite like to kiss you."
"Very well," she said. The moment her lips formed the last word, Anders leaned into her on all fours, taking her mouth in his. Opening her mouth wider with a surprised gasp, Morrigan allowed his tongue entrance, and it velveted over hers, pert and insistent.
Anders curled a hand around the back of her head, and Morrigan felt herself melt against him.
When her tongue danced across his, Anders' breath quickened and he exhaled a soft sound of gratitude. He tasted of incense and tea, and Morrigan suddenly needed more of him. She moaned into his mouth, quite by accident, but it spurred the man to crawl over top of her, clutching at her still, cupping the back of her head with that strong, rough hand as he gently lowered her onto the furs.
"Tell me if you're not comfortable." Anders was breathing heavily. "Some mages don't like to feel trapped."
The witch purred, "I'll lay you flat on your back if I feel trapped," which granted her a carnal groan and tightened grip on the back of her head. Anders bent into the crook of her neck and peppered long, urgent kisses along its porcelain length, careful not to leave a mark.
Heat pooled between Morrigan's legs, aching for touch, friction, release. She considered snaking her own hand down there, but despite the hour, she wanted to draw this out. After all, how many nights had she flattened a pillow over her head while Elissa and that oaf enjoyed themselves loudly, late into the night?
As if reading her mind, Anders dragged his finger down a slow trail, over a pert nipple, across her navel, and ending in the crease where her torso met her leg. There his hand remained, tantalizingly stroking up and down the line of her thigh, but never moving to her center.
When his hand stilled, Morrigan drew her mouth off his, searching his face curiously. His swollen lips curled into a smirk. "May I use magic? It, uh… can catch you off guard."
She exhaled impatiently. "If it's painful, you could simply tell me now what animal you'd least fancy being the rest of your days."
"Well, obviously, I'm going to lie and say 'cat,' though it's at the top of my list. But truly, I think..." He slowed down, tasting each word, "...you can take it."
Morrigan wet her lips unconsciously.
With one hand cradling her head, Anders positioned the other in front of her center, just barely making contact. A moment later, a gasp of pleasure was ripped from Morrigan's throat before her mind even registered the explosive spark that had danced across her bundle of nerves. She dug her nails into Anders' back, and he leaned his head down to purr in her ear.
"Again," Morrigan demanded.
A second shock pinged against her tender flesh, a jolt of passion reverberating through the nerve endings coiling around her insides.
"Where did you…"
"Spent a lot of time alone, love." He groaned, arching his back under the rake of Morrigan's nails. "Do you like it?"
Morrigan ground herself against his hand as an answer.
Locking onto her intense gaze, Anders slid a calloused finger between her folds and blew out a breath at how slick and ready she was. He pushed knuckle deep, clutching desperately where her thigh met her ass with his remaining fingers.
The witch sucked in a breath when he withdrew one finger, then sunk in two, crooking them perfectly upward against her shuddering walls.
"I need to taste you." Anders said against her lips.
Morrigan kissed him hungrily once more before pushing down on his shoulder, situating his face right in front of her entrance.
Here Anders was sloppy and unrestrained. He fell upon her, laving his thick tongue quickly and messily against every inch of her velvety warmth. When Morrigan groaned, he buried his face deeper, grinding that glorious nose against her pearl.
His fingers gripped her thighs tightly enough to leave marks, lost as he was in frantic ecstasy. Although his tongue wasn't nearly enough to fill her, his nose was nudging her closer and closer to the edge.
When Morrigan's back arched with a mewl, Anders snaked his hand up from her thigh and sent another spark against her sensitive mound. That set Morrigan shuddering back against her furs with a gasp loud enough for others to hear.
Anders picked up his pace, clearly spurred on by the sounds she was making. He lifted his head for a gulp of air, locked eyes with her and said, "Maker, you're glorious," before diving back into her folds, lapping up her gushing arousal as if it were a feast.
"Anders," Morrigan groaned.
He hummed a note of question against her.
"Anders!" she hissed, her head rising off her furs.
"Yes, love?" He gulped, lust-drunk eyes unfocused as he drew his head back.
"Anders, I need you inside me. I'm… about to..."
"Yes, I can tell," he chuckled. Then he plunged his two calloused fingers back inside her, ripping a fresh groan from her throat.
"Anders..." Her words were edged with warning.
"But, love, I could make you come twice."
Morrigan narrowed her eyes at the mage, but she couldn't keep the withering gaze up for long. Nearly driven to distraction, she looped a soft hand under his arm and pulled him back up her body.
As Anders crawled over her, his rock-hard length dragged a thin, tantalizing trail of wetness up the length of her leg. He cupped a hand against her cheek, searching her gaze with gold-flecked eyes. Then he took her mouth as greedily as he had taken her sex, groaning into her as she breathed in her own carnal and earthy scents.
Between her thighs, Anders' iron stiffness hovered before her entrance. He knew better than to dally much longer. He drew back his hips without lifting off Morrigan's mouth, then took her hand and guided it to his backside, inviting her to set the pace. Although she appreciated the gesture, she wanted nothing more than to snap his hips against hers hard enough to leave bruises.
Morrigan drew Anders towards her. His hand slid between them to guide his erection between her folds. Their foreheads touched for a heated moment before Morrigan gave a nod and pulled him against her, sliding his thickness inside with silky satisfaction.
The dull ache of adjusting to his size nearly drove her wild. Morrigan grasped him by the hipbones and drew him out, only to slam him back into her, filling her to the hilt.
She groaned against him every time he was seated inside of her. And she delighted in ripping a groan from Anders as she clenched her muscles while he dragged himself out.
"Oh, fuck," Anders shuddered against her mouth, all cockiness absent, replaced with raw desire.
"Once more," Morrigan purred, and Anders kept ramming repeatedly into her, driving her tailbone into the hard earth beneath her furs.
It was clear his mind was blank of comprehension, so now it was her turn to grasp his hand and guide it between them, pausing over her center. He continued pounding erratically into her, pupils blown wide and glassy.
"Once more, Anders, please," she repeated.
Realization crossed his features, darkening with worry and excitement when he finally understood her meaning. She was asking for more of the electrifying jolt.
"Usually - hnng..." Anders gulped and shook his head, as if dizzy. "Usually that trick's just for the before part. I'm - oh, Maker ." He steadied his breathing. "It's just that I'm in there, love, and I quite like that part of my anatomy."
"Then aim true, Anders," Morrigan said. Her anger-tinged voice had seemed to get him going before, but at the moment, she felt nothing but bliss.
Anders blew out a breath, nothing if not determined. Once he was fully seated within her again, he leaned back and lowered a hand to her bundle of nerves.
Quite on accident, Morrigan clenched her muscles reflexively around his length, and Anders all but cried out at the sensation. He braced himself on her furs with one arm.
"Oh, this is funny to you?" Anders chuckled off of Morrigan's impish smile.
"Mm, very."
"Well, here's your punishment," he growled, sending a spark against her that was a few registers stronger than the others had been.
It indeed struck true, and Morrigan's back arched off the furs, moaning with bliss and clenching around Anders more tightly than ever.
Anders grasped Morrigan underneath her bowed back, able to take her at an exceptional angle he hadn't been able to reach before now. He pumped furiously into her as the waves of sparks danced along her nerve endings within.
Dizzied by his length railing into her, Morrigan tipped into oblivion, crying out a moan that thickened his erection even more. Anders panted her name, and when he could take it no longer, he spent himself inside her in bucks and spurts.
Morrigan's eyes unfocused and focused again. As she slowly came down from fuzzy-headed bliss, Anders nuzzled that strong nose against her neck. Steady breathing slowly returned to them. Anders gently extracted himself and collapsed next to her to take in the afterglow.
He didn't dally. After a few moments longer of cuddling, Morrigan was able to convince him he hadn't left any unwanted markings on her. Then, after one lingering last kiss, Anders stood and slipped back into his robes, making sure the morels he'd brought were placed in a cool area of her tent.
"Morrigan, my dear, that was…" He blew out a breath, then bowed deeply. "You're a stunning woman. Thank you for brightening up an apostate's cold and lonely escape from Ferelden's finest."
"Thank you for the morels," she said, clutching the furs around her body. Somehow, even after lovemaking, conversing with a stranger completely nude seemed too familiar. "And for teaching me that trick."
He crossed the tent and took her hand in his one last time, bowing to give it a regal kiss. "Whenever you use that on yourself," he whispered, "I want you to think of me."
The witch offered only a half-smirk in response.
Anders turned back only once more, right at the flap of her tent. "Good luck with that ritual. I mean, your 'cooking.'"
"Goodbye, Anders. And good luck to you."
Morrigan reclined softly, thoroughly spent and truly warm for the first time in ages.