Thanks to all of you for the enthusiastic response to the first one of these! We'll see how long Thora and Alistair keep the muse occupied. The following is a scene that never took place, except in Thora's imagination. Set during "No Armor Against Fate", just before Thora left for Amaranthine. NSFW.
"Have you seen Alistair?" Thora asked Oghren.
"Nope … *hic* … hav'n't seen the blighter." He stopped, scratching his behind thoughtfully. "Mighta seen 'im go toward the … place … with the … eatin'." He belched hugely, took a swig of ale, and kept moving.
She hurried toward the dining room, hoping she had interpreted the Oghren-speak correctly. As she got closer, she could feel the tug of the shared taint in their blood. He was there. Her heart raced with an excitement she no longer had the right to feel.
It was pitch dark in the room. Thora, her eyes accustomed to the dark by long years underground, could see Alistair slumped over the head of the table, a bottle and goblet in front of him.
"What do you want?"
"I …" What had she wanted? She'd needed to see him, be near him, while she still could, but how could she say that?
"Go away."
"Are you all right?" Thora moved toward him down the table.
"Yes, I'm perfectly all right." He lifted his head, his eyes glittering in the dark. "I was happily drinking myself into a stupor to celebrate just how 'all right' I am."
The sarcasm stung. "Alistair …"
"Don't. Please. Can't you just go? You're leaving me anyway, why not do it now?"
She reached out, finding his hand and taking it in hers, the familiar strength of it comforting her.
He growled, pulling her toward him, holding her there, so close she could feel his breath on her lips. "Let go of me, or I can't be responsible for what happens."
This was a bad idea. She should pull her hand out of his warm grasp and run from the room, but she stood still, holding her breath.
Alistair's mouth came down on hers, his tongue opening her lips. She welcomed it with hers, the familiar taste of him flooding her brain. They kissed desperately, each of them all too aware that it was probably the last time. Alistair's hands clamped on her hips, pulling her closer to the chair, his fingers sliding beneath her waistband and into her smalls, finding her already wet and eager.
He lifted her into his lap, pushing roughly at her pants until they were down around her thighs. Thora's fingers worked at the laces of his trousers, exposing him to her hungry hands, stroking and caressing until he whispered an oath, positioning her over him and pressing her down.
It was the last time, the last time, repeated Thora's head as she moved on him, as his heat enveloped her, the sounds of his groans ringing in her ears.
"Maker!" He pushed up into her, shuddering, and Thora cried out at the sweetness of it, tears stinging her eyes.
They rested together, panting, for only a brief moment before Thora was reminded of the telltale bulge at her middle by the soft movement of their child inside her. She pushed herself off him, hastily rearranging her clothes as she ran from the room.