This one-shot was inspired by two Cheeky Monkey challenges (the "Impossible" and "Halloween" challenges) and what amounts to a double-dog dare by my beta Suilven (who will be betaing my story "Revelations," if I can ever finish chapter three!). For those of you wondering what my sickly muse has been doing for the last week (I'm looking at you, Anglarite), this is what she was up to. I hope you all have your mind bleach handy because you'll likely need it. Here's another one-shot the Monkeys will never let me live down!
I have many evil siblings over at CM (and even a couple of separated-at-birth twins). Suilven is the evil Batman to my Robin. The evil Han Solo to my Chewbacca. The evil Beavis to my Butthead (but if she's Evil Beavis, does that make her Cornholio?). Thanks for jumping on the crazy train with me, Suilven; you've been an enormous help! You get a great big STAFFORD for your efforts! :)
Did I mention that part of the dare included a sketch? It's over at my DeviantART page: ht tp:/ josielange . deviantart . com/
And I raise my head and stare
Into the eyes of a stranger.
I've always known that the mirror never lies
People always turn away
From the eyes of a stranger
Afraid to know
What lies behind the stare
"Eyes of a Stranger" - Queensryche
It had been a long day at the clinic, desperate and destitute Fereldens looking to have their various medical needs met. Anders' clinic was seeing more and more Fereldens as time wore on and refugees from the Blight found their way to Darktown and his door. Many were sick from malnutrition while others had simple infections that they could not treat on their own. He had also brought one baby girl into the world, nearly losing the mother because she was so malnourished. Another man had come in with multiple stab wounds after he was jumped in the dark recesses of Lowtown for the five coppers he had in his pocket. Desperation was an insidious thing, driving otherwise good people to do terrible things to survive in Kirkwall.
Anders' mana was nearly depleted as well as his supply of healing sundries and potions. He was desperately tired but refused to close the clinic until all the patients had been seen. After seeing the last patient out, he closed and bolted the door to his small clinic, moving back to the even smaller room he called home. He looked into a small mirror mounted to the wall, seeing the dark circles under his eyes emphasized by his exhaustion. The eyes looking back at him were those of a stranger wearing his own face. More and more, he felt like an outsider in his own body.
Picking up a cloth and wiping his sweaty forehead, Anders flopped down into a nearby chair with a weary sigh. Resting his forearms on the chair he closed his eyes for a moment, hoping for a brief respite from his maddening day. His thoughts drifted toward his companions; surely they were at the Hanged Man by now. He had not seen Korrine Hawke for a couple of days and while he enjoyed spending time with her, sometimes her obligations took a lot out of him. Anders let his head drop back to rest on the chair, feeling his breathing slow as his weariness began to claim him.
Anders, you are not taking the subjugation of mages seriously.
Justice's ethereal voice cut through Anders' weary mind, resonating inside his head, a sound from which there was no escape. Anders sighed, speaking aloud to the voice within him. Thankfully, there was no one around to hear the mage seemingly talk to himself. "Justice, I'm beginning to worry about you... you're becoming very radical in your thoughts."
And how are the beliefs of Knight Commander Meredith not radical? She believes mages are afflicted with a curse! One of her very own knights suggested making mages tranquil! Look at what they did to Karl...
Anders leaned over in his chair, holding his shaking head in his hands. He tried to push back against the pressure Justice was exerting in his head. "No! Justice, stop this!"
You claim to want mages to be free of the Chantry, but you do little to see that desire come to fruition. Your delay in acting only allows these injustices to continue!
Anders scoffed in exasperation. "What would you have me do, Justice? We can't simply destroy the Grand Cleric and Knight Commander and hope it will permanently free the mages in the Gallows."
And why not? They are barriers to the freedom you seek for mages. The Gallows is a prison, Anders, the denizens' only crime being born mages.
While Anders had often agreed with Justice regarding the treatment of mages, these new opinions from the spirit inside him were a dark and frightening turn. "Justice! How does murder justify that?"
Undeterred, Justice continued on, the ethereal voice booming inside Anders' head. The mage stood, pacing his small room with agitated steps as he held his hands to his head. The pressure inside continued to build, a pounding that resonated with every heartbeat.
And how many mages were murdered by templars for simply being what they are? How many were made tranquil for minor violations or simply speaking out against the Chantry? And Karl, what did he do to deserve the murder of his entire emotional being?
"No!" Anders rushed to his small chest of personal items, flinging open the lid and rustling through the contents inside. Justice remained quiet for several moments, simply observing Anders' frantic movements. As Anders haphazardly threw robes, books, and vellum aside, Justice saw his host reaching with their shared hand toward a dark amber bottle at the bottom of the chest. With a shaking hand Anders grasped the bottle.
Anders felt his hand trying to open as Justice began to assert himself. Determined, Anders refused to let the bottle go, seeking to quiet Justice if only for a few moments. Inside the bottle lay temporary freedom, or so Anders hoped.
Anders, you do not wish to face the truth. Put that vile crutch away.
The slamming of the chest lid was loud in the small room, bouncing off the walls and driving a spike of pain into Anders' skull. He welcomed the pain, using it to focus his will on shoving Justice to the back of his consciousness. "No! I will have peace from you tonight, Justice. I will not listen to this, nor you, any longer and if I wish to get blind drunk, then so be it!"
The hand holding the bottle began to tremble as Anders felt his fingers fighting to open. It was a strange feeling, the war between two entities in the battlefield of a physical body, each consciousness fighting for dominance.
The joining with Justice was supposed to be mutually beneficial, a friend helping a friend continue to exist rather than wink out like a snuffed candle. As time passed, however, Justice had begun to assert himself more and more. The blackouts Anders was experiencing were becoming more frequent and longer in duration, worrying him a great deal. What was Justice doing during the times he completely usurped Anders' body? Did his companions suspect something amiss? When Anders tried to probe the part of his mind that was Justice, he was greeted by a wall of nothingness at best and jumbled, disconcerting images at worst. Tonight, Anders wanted his mind to be his own and if the brandy gave him the illusion, so be it. Justice had grown increasingly agitated with Anders' imbibing over the years and tended to recede to the back of his mind when he drank. How long that would last, Anders was uncertain.
Still fighting Justice within his own mind, Anders pulled the stopper out of the bottle, using both shaking hands to pull the bottle to his mouth for a long draw. Justice fought with Anders for a moment, going still as the Antivan flowed through Anders, warming his chest as it traveled to his stomach. He sighed in pleasure, bringing the amber liquid and its warmth to his lips again. Justice no doubt looked on as he swallowed another mouthful, glowering within the confines of his mind.
"That's right," Anders said with smug satisfaction, "you just sit in your little corner and be quiet. This is my body, spirit, and it was only out of the kindness of my heart that I let you share it."
Anders' feet carried him through the darkened streets of Kirkwall, the familiar winding paths and narrow passages looming high overhead. Kirkwall was a city he despised more and more as time passed. Even now, thinking and walking through the city, how much of what he felt was truly him and how much was Justice? The line between where he ended and Justice began had never been clear to begin with and as time passed, that line had become more and more blurred. He did not even think with his own voice nowadays; it was always Justice now, sometimes whispering while other times raging. When he saw what the templars had done to Karl...
Red rage began to bubble up from deep inside, a wave that Justice was no doubt riding. Anders quickly swallowed another mouthful of Antivan brandy, letting the fire of the liquid drown the fire of his anger. Or was it Justice's anger? He never knew anymore. Still walking the streets, Anders saw a small group of men watching him from nearby before quickly turning and moving away as if a predator approached. Did he scare others as much as he was scaring himself? He took another draw from the bottle, the amber heat spreading inside him as a pleasant buzz began to fill his head. I hope you like that buzzing sound, Justice. Cuz guess what? You're gonna get as much of it as I can stand tonight. Don't care if I'll need t' heal m'self tomorrow. Been there, done that.
The neatly manicured gardens of Hightown surrounded him, the grand steps leading to the Chantry just beyond the courtyard. Anders looked across the courtyard to the Chanter's board where Sebastian had placed his plea for help in killing those who had murdered his family.
Vengeance.
Swallowing another mouthful of brandy, Anders felt the heat warm him again and the buzz in his mind grew louder. The brandy was acting fast, its influence on him strong from not having indulged in the drink for some time. He returned his gaze to the slightly out of focus Chanter's board. Grand Cleric Elthina had admonished Sebastian for his actions here, but Justice had prodded Anders into encouraging Hawke to accept the Prince of Starkhaven's offer. She had done so, bringing the promise of peace to Sebastian and a sense of satisfaction to the sprit lurking inside him.
Justice.
Anders closed his eyes and leaned back on the bench. The sensation of the world spinning around him tickled his mind. He breathed deeply, the scent of the nearby greenery filling his nose. A gentle breeze was blowing, whispering through the leaves of the trees around him. The buzz in Anders' mind echoed the sounds of the rustling leaves. For the moment, he found peace.
"Are you quite well, Serah?"
The soft voice startled Anders out of his reverie. He looked up to see the pleasant face of Grand Cleric Elthina looking down at him. Her look was one of concern, her brows lowered and hands folded together in front of her.
"You are one of Serah Hawke's companions, are you not? Anders, is it?"
Anders quickly moved to put the bottle of brandy into his pack, stammering as he did no. "Oh, yes, well, I was just...takin' a walk...and...found m'self here..."
Elthina gave the pack the bottle vanished into a pointed look before returning her gaze to Anders' face. She frowned again; Anders was sure his fair skin was ruddy and reddened by the brandy coursing through him. His head was swimming, of that he had no doubt.
"That rarely helps, Serah."
Actually, it does, Anders thought to himself with a small scoff. "'Tis tonight."
As he watched through bleary eyes, he saw Elthina extend a hand toward him, a small smile crossing her face. "Anders, come with me. Let us talk for a bit."
Anders blinked once, then twice, hard. The two visions of Elthina merged into one, her patient look never wavering. His first thought was that this was a trick, a ruse to gain his trust before being thrown into the Gallows where the secret of his dual nature would be quickly discovered and doom him.
Elthina apparently sensed Anders' apprehension. She moved her hand to her heart bowing her head solemnly. "I swear to you, Anders, I only wish to help you. It is clear that you are troubled."
Go.
Drunk he may have been, but Anders still retained enough instinct to know going with the Grand Cleric anywhere could be a decidedly bad idea. He was considered little more than an apostate to begin with and if she or the templars caught wind of Justice, he would be quickly labeled an abomination and executed on the spot, no questions asked. Yet, the voice inside him prodded him to go, prodded him to follow the Grand Cleric and learn more about her. Anders hesitated, his bleary eyes narrowing as he regarded Elthina.
"How do I know you won't jus' call in the templars an' have me hauled off to the Gallows?"
Elthina simply smiled her gentle smile, turning her head and beckoning to a nearby statue of blessed Andraste. "You have my solemn promise, made in front of Andraste and the Maker: you shall leave as freely as you entered."
Anders' mouth felt like it was filled with cotton. "An' what 'bout Meredith? Surely she'll breathe fire an' brimstone if she saw me near you."
"Meredith is at the Gallows this night, Anders."
"An' the templars? An' clerics? Will be a scandal to be seen with me."
Elthina motioned Anders forward toward the side of the grand steps leading to the Chantry. "There are other doors, Anders."
Watch.
Elthina led Anders through the darkened halls of the Kirkwall chantry toward her private office, assuring him that his privacy would be certain there. As they traversed the halls, Anders fumbled through his pack for the bottle, brushing up against the walls as he stumbled in the dark. He took several quick nips of the brandy to calm his nerves and ran his fingers along the stone walls to keep his balance. Being this deep in the Chantry had made him nervous at first, but as the moments passed, his nervousness abated and he tried to focus on the path they were taking within the building. They passed several rooms that appeared to be small libraries or chapels. Other rooms appeared to be for storage and yet others held rows of simple bunks. Elthina explained that they were rooms for travelers who could not afford accommodation elsewhere or for the homeless who sought shelter on cold winter nights. A set of stairs wound down below the chantry proper, dark and foreboding as they receded into the darkness.
"It had been both a crypt and slave quarters when the Tevinters ruled Kirkwall," Elthina explained when Anders asked about the stairs. "Now it is used mainly for storage; it has been years since I have been down those stairs. I am not ashamed to admit that the lowest levels of the building leave me apprehensive."
They reached a plain door at the end of the hallway. Elthina opened it and stepped inside, waiting for Anders to follow behind her. As he sat down in a plain chair near her plain desk, he heard the door softly click closed behind them. He fought to keep his eyes open, not realizing how tired he truly was until he sat. Between his exhaustion and the brandy, he began to doubt he would remain awake long enough to have any sort of conversation with Elthina. Anders felt his head become heavier and heavier as Elthina approached and by the time she sat down in her own plain chair, Anders was fighting to stay awake. His head kept nodding forward and he quickly picked it up each time, looking around sheepishly as his eyes grew heavy once more.
"Anders, are you all right?"
Blinking rapidly, Anders brought the heels of his hands to his face, rubbing his sticky, heavy eyes for a moment. "I…I feel...funny…"
"You are drunk, Anders. While I do not see the harm in an occasional indulgence in such things, too much is detrimental."
"…sound like…Justize..." Anders said, his slurred voice little more than a mumble.
"I'm sorry, Anders. What was that you said?"
With a wave of his hand, Anders dismissed the comment. "Nothin', yer holinessness…jus' feelin'…sleepy…"
Elthina watched the mage before her, seeing his head bob forward as he fought to stay awake. She took pity on him as she would anyone who was obviously hurting inside and hurting themselves in the process. Perhaps a few moments resting would bring him somewhat out of his stupor so that they could speak. He was in pain and she wanted to help him if she could.
"Anders, would you like to lie down for a few moments? Perhaps if you rest for a short while you will feel better and then we can speak."
"…feel…better? Shure…feelin' better is..."
Sleep.
Wow, it's a little cold in here.
Anders fought his way up from unconsciousness, his head throbbing and his stomach rolling uncomfortably inside him. Though his head was pounding, at least it had lost most of that swirling, swimming feeling. The taste of a healing draught on his tongue; someone had likely dribbled several drops of it in his mouth as he slept. It had not been much, but it was enough to chase the worst of his drunkenness away. Even so, his eyes still felt impossibly heavy and while they were closed, it felt as if the room was slowly revolving around him. He heard himself groan loudly and moved his hands to swipe at his gritty eyes.
Unsuccessfully.
Alarmed, Anders' forced his sticky eyes open. He turned to his left and right, shocked to find himself propped up in a bed, his arms stretched almost painfully wide and wrists tightly bound to the headboard with what looked like brightly colored woven belts. He pulled on his bonds slightly to test them, but were tied fast, his movements limited to only a scant few inches.
Looking down, Anders found that the only thing he was wearing was a blanket that demurely covered his privates.
Okay, well, this has certainly taken a strange twist. I'm naked and tied to a bed in presumably the Kirkwall Chantry. At least it isn't the Gallows. Justice?
The voice inside him remained quiet. Oh, so now you leave me alone? Bastard.
Anders looked about the room, trying to piece together just how he came to be in this...predicament. The last thing he remembered was...sitting in a chair...in Grand Cleric Elthina's office... But this was most definitely not an office. It was almost completely dark, only a sliver of light coming in from the one small window in the room.
"Comfortable?"
Anders nearly jumped out of his skin; the voice coming from the darkness was low, husky...and definitely feminine. A small scraping nose was heard just before the darkness was penetrated by the small flame of a match as a single candle was lit. The darkness was pushed back slightly, revealing the shadowed face of Grand Cleric Elthina as she sat in a simple chair, one leg crossed over the other as she studied him. Anders watched her eyes wandering over his chest as he was splayed open before her. She looked almost…hungry…as her eyes swept over his bare skin to land on the blanket covering his privates.
"Um, yes?"
Elthina's gaze met Anders' once more. "Despite the apparent precariousness of your situation, I promised you that you would leave as freely as you entered and I meant it."
"I'm hardly in a position to question that."
A throaty chuckle came from across the room. Anders watched as Elthina reached up and pulled on a small drawstring at the neck of her robe, slowly pulling it loose as she watched Anders intently. Elthina's slender fingers pulled the neckline of her robe open, baring a patch of light skin. He felt an instinctive twitch below the blanket covering his manhood; maybe if he went along with this, he would not find himself in chains being dragged to the Gallows. The twitching stopped at the thought of the mages' prison.
"I have always been curious," Elthina said in a low voice.
Anders watched as Elthina stood, languorously pulling at the wide cloth belt covering her midsection. The candlelight was nearly behind her now, bathing most of her face in shadow. Anders watched as the belt fell away from her robes, widening the opening in front. It could have been a trick of the light, but it appeared that Elthina had a band on her head. Confused, Anders narrowed his eyes as he further studied Elthina.
"Oh? Curious about what?"
The robe covering Elthina's body slipped lower, completely baring her neck and shoulders. Anders' eyes helplessly wandered over her skin, taking in her slender and graceful neck and tracing the lines of her shoulders. Her shape was apparently pleasing enough as he felt the twitching begin once more, in earnest.
"Um, what are you curious about…Your Grace?"
"Kittie."
Kittie? Seriously? "Okay then, Kittie, what are you curious about?"
Elthina let her robes slip a little further down her body, baring her upper arms and chest. She sauntered forward a step toward the bed, the bare skin of a knee flashing as it broke through the open front of her robe.
"It is my understanding that mages like to use their…talents…in certain situations."
Obey.
The twitching increased under the blankets. Anders could feel himself growing harder despite the strangeness of the situation in which he found himself. The last thing he thought would be happening after he left his clinic was being tied to a woman's bed. Not that he was opposed to being tied to a woman's bed, but the last woman he thought would be his captor was the Grand Cleric of Kirkwall herself. Well, maybe the last person would be Knight Commander Meredith, but Grand Cleric Elthina was a close second.
"Well…um…yes," Anders stammered as Elthina—wait, Kittie, he snickered to himself—pulled her robe open even more, revealing a snippet of a dark breast band around her chest. "Mages do use their magic in such situations." He paused for a moment and watched as 'Kittie' took another step closer to the bed. Anders was not sure if he should be laughing uproariously at the situation in which he found himself or fearing for his life.
With another step, Elthina was almost at the foot of the bed. "Cast a wisp," she ordered.
Anders shifted on the bed, the throbbing in his midsection increasing with each passing moment. He shrugged as best he could, opening his hands in supplication. "I'm not sure that I can with my hands bound like this."
"Try."
Taking a deep breath, Anders began to whisper the words of the spell, moving his hands slightly as he called upon his power. A small wisp formed in the palm of each hand; Anders sent them into the air above the bed, where they merged and chased the shadows back slightly. It was still quite dark, but he could now see the Grand Cleric much more clearly. She had allowed the robe to drop from her body as he was casting and when he returned his gaze to her, he was torn between amusement and horror.
Elthina was wearing nothing but a leopard print breast band and smalls.
With the increased light, he also saw that she wore a small band on her head. The band did hold her hair back, but what caught Anders' attention were the two pointed ears on the top, also in leopard print. She turned her back toward him, suggestively gyrating her hips.
Is that…it can't be…is she holding a…a tail…in her hand?
Anders watched as Elthina twirled her…tail…in her hand, watching his expression carefully over his shoulder. The hungry look crossed her face again as she saw the small tent appearing in Anders' lap. No matter how strange this situation was, Anders found himself responding. After a moment watching each other, Elthina turned and slowly crawled up onto the foot of the bed, her knees spread wide as she paused and brushed her tail over the bare skin of Anders legs.
Her smalls were crotchless.
Anders felt his eyes go wide. "Andraste's flaming ar…er…ancestors' tits?"
Elthina crawled up the bed slowly, a feral grin crossing her features. She leaned forward, growling into Anders' ear. "I like it when you talk dirty."
Instead of pulling away, Elthina began to rub her face along the skin of Anders' neck, first one side and then the other, making small noises as she did so. Anders' watched her with wide eyed astonishment. Is that…is she…purring…? Like a cat? Holy Maker, I'll never think of Ser Pounce the same way again…
"Talk dirty to me, Anders…"
He felt her tongue brush his skin, warm and wet in the dark chill of the room. Anders shuddered, partly from desire and partly from the cool air and the unfathomable situation he was in. Elthina's tongue traced hot circles around his nipples and he felt his chest heaving as the pace of his breathing quickened. Suddenly, he felt her teeth bite his nipple…hard.
"Ow! Hey, what was that for?"
He felt the sting of her tail as she whipped it across his chest several times, a feral look crossing her face. "I said talk dirty to me, Anders," Elthina said with a growl. She quickly reached out and raked her nails roughly down the skin of Anders' chest. He yelped in surprise and pain, feeling welts already beginning to form on his flesh.
"What the fuck, Elthina?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Elthina's teeth were on Anders' other nipple as her fingernails scratched his skin again. Anders bucked beneath her as Elthina growled and hissed in pleasure.
"That's better." Elthina moved forward, pulling the blankets back and resting the exposed flesh of her sex on Anders' hard length, grinding up against it as she ran the tip of her tail down Anders' cheek. He quickly forgot his anger at Elthina biting his now throbbing nipple.
Yes.
Anders felt his hips buck toward the heat of Elthina's sex as she ground herself against him. To his astonishment, he wanted this; wanted to feel the Grand Cleric surround him, wanted to fill her and fuck her…hard, unforgiving, unrelenting…
Anders stopped suddenly, his eyes opening wide in horror as Elthina raked her nails down the skin of his shoulders. "Elthina, wait. Stop…"
The tail switched across his cheek in a threatening manner. "I told you to call me Kittie."
Anders swallowed thickly. "Okay…Kittie. But listen to me; aren't you supposed to be…I don't know…celibate? Aren't you breaking your vows by doing…this?"
Elthina's tongue was out again, running in hot trails over the skin of Anders' chest, wandering lower until she was just above his length. Coherent thought quickly abandoned him as her tongue brushed the hardened tip.
"I am also a woman with needs. Andraste fulfilled Maferath's earthly needs from time to time even though she was betrothed to the Maker." She enveloped Anders' length with her mouth, taking him fully as he bucked beneath her. Groaning, he felt his body grow tense under her ministrations, his arms straining against his bonds. She licked and sucked at his flesh, growling and mewling like a cat as she did so. Despite the ridiculousness of her noises, he groaned loudly in pleasure, unable to help himself. Suddenly, her face was inches from his, her tail shoved forcefully into his mouth and pinning his head to the headboard of the bed. Elthina had a savage look on her face.
"You will keep quiet, my little mage, until I need you to speak."
Anders nodded as best he could, clamping his teeth around the cloth of the tail as Elthina released it, moving her hot tongue to his cheek. She ran it slowly down his neck, licking his flesh in small lapping motions as she traveled down his chest toward his length. Anders shuddered as he watched her tongue work, both aroused and horrified by what he was witnessing. It only took a few rakes of her nails on his flesh and brushes of her tongue to bring him back to the edge, the tightening within his loins signaling imminent release. Elthina took him fully into her mouth again as his release came, her mouth working around his convulsions. He groaned through the tail in his mouth, the nails of his fingers digging into his palms as his body tensed with the force of his release.
Elthina's face began to nuzzle him once more, the soft fabric of her strange ears brushing the skin of Anders' stomach. She began to make purring noises again as her nuzzling continued, her face rubbing the skin of his chest as she moved toward his face. Her tongue flicked out, licking at the skin of Anders' neck, up his jaw and cheek. Anders shuddered as she pulled the tail from his mouth, slightly repulsed by her licking and purring.
"Now," Elthina said, running the tip of her tongue in Anders' ear, "I want you to use your magic to make me scream."
Anders shuddered once more, both from the disconcerting feeling of Elthina's tongue in his ear and with anticipation of what might come next. Her tongue pushed deeper into Anders' ear and his shudders grew stronger.
"Um, scream? Are you sure that's wise?"
Elthina moved to meet Anders' gaze, her eyes narrowing. She hissed and quickly swiped at Anders' cheek, her nails leaving marks on the fair skin. "Make. Me. Scream."
Obey.
Anders nodded and as he did so, saw the feral grin cross Elthina's face once more. She settled herself into Anders' lap, brushing his slack length with the heat of her sex. Anders smelled her musk and felt his body respond, his manhood a divining rod seeking her heat. Elthina rubbed herself against Anders, rising to rub her leopard print breastband into his face. Anders flicked his tongue out and brushed her flesh, hearing her groan in anticipation as she smothered him with her skin. He began to gather his power, sending small pulses toward his hardening flesh. She slithered back down his body, the heat of her sex settling above Anders' awakening length. Moving her hand down his flesh, she found his erection and stroked it. Once she was satisfied she settled herself on it, her muscles gripping him tightly.
"Fuck me, mage," Elthina said, rubbing her face against the skin of Anders' neck, "fuck me with your magic."
Anders, in his current state of mind, was more than happy to oblige. He sent small pulses of electricity through him and into her body; she gasped and moaned in delight as she ground her hips against him. He pushed against her, thrusting himself and his magic deeply inside her. Her moaning increased and moved a hand to rest near her nub.
"I can take care of that," Anders said, his voice husky with lust and his own enhanced pleasure. He broadened the area of magic, feeling the power crawl over their joined hips. He focused one small area of power directly onto her nub. Elthina gasped and whimpered, driving her hips more forcefully into Anders.
"Oh, yes," she moaned, increasing the pace and force of her working hips. "Yes, mage, yes…"
Since Elthina was responding so positively, Anders increased the power of the magic coursing through them, his own moans of pleasure growing louder and matching hers. He pushed his hips upward, forcing himself and his magic deeper inside her with every thrust. She matched his movements with her grinding hips, her mewls and growls growing in intensity. After a moment, she shoved one end of the tail into her mouth, thrusting the other end into Anders' mouth to stifle their moans. She gripped his shoulders tightly, increasing the pace of her motions.
Anders, not to be deterred, matched her pace. The bed creaked and groaned under them, the headboard thumping against the stone wall behind them. Elthina's muffled groans encouraged Anders to increase his pace even faster, grunting with the exertion and feeling the muscles of his bound arms tense to the point he thought they would snap.
With a muffled scream, Elthina's muscles began to grip Anders forcefully, pulling on his ramming length and urging him toward release. He came seconds later, thrusting his hips upward into Elthina and sending one last burst of power through her. She screamed through the cloth of the tail again, collapsing against Anders' chest. He felt himself slacken and the mingled fluids from both of them ran down his length.
Elthina reached up a moment later and pulled the tail from their mouths, tossing it carelessly aside. She released Anders from his bonds before moving herself off him and the bed. He rubbed his arms, sending pulses of healing magic through the aching flesh as he watched Elthina shrug into her robes, tucking the headband with the ears attached inside. She indicated to a small pile of clothes neatly folded on a table next to the single lit candle.
"Your clothes and belongings are there." With a swirl of robes, Elthina was gone.
Anders turned and looked at the wide steps of the Chantry, the nearly empty bottle of Antivan brandy in his hand.
She used you for her own ends, Anders. She bound you and used your body for her own pleasure.
Anders' head was swimming, disjointed images swirling through his mind. He remembered being bound to a bed. He remembered the leering face of the Grand Cleric, remembered her shoving a cloth into his mouth to stifle his screams.
She used you Anders.
"I remember sitting with her and talking to her, Justice. I remember that. I just can't see her using me like that. It seems so…impossible…"
I told you not to use that vile crutch, Anders. Look what happened. You were not yourself and you were taken advantage of.
Justice brought Anders' hand in front of him, making Anders look at the bottle of brandy within his grasp. You know what you must do, Anders.
Burn it. Burn it all.
Justice grinned, Anders' lips pulling into a smile.