Author's note: Hi everyone, thank you so much for reading! Shouts out to my ever amazing reviewers! Love you guys!
Warning: This is the chapter where I put Alistair out of his misery, in a good way. This chapter is rated M for some sweet lemony goodness, and is NSFW. I'd say it's not overly smutty, but explicit. If you don't want to read it, suffice to say that it's Alistair's first time, and it's awkward but ultimately a lot of fun was had by all. ;) Now all you have to do is wait for the next chapter! I only hope I'm not qualifying for a certain "lulzy" cheeky monkeys challenge with this one!
I usually don't listen to music as I write, but I admit shamelessly that I've been listening to "Put your arms around me" by Texas on repeat while writing this. It's not that important, I just thought maybe some readers would like to know.
Sincere thanks to my amazingly efficient beta, Epiphany sola Gratia! I strongly recommend reading her story if you haven't yet, especially The Balance of Wings! If you're looking for something original and different and truly well-written, you won't be sorry!
This endless business with the dwarves was finally over.
Alistair felt utterly exhausted. His legs were actually shaking under him as he watched the new king of Orzammar being crowned. They had rushed to the Assembly as soon as they got out of the Deep Roads. They were all still covered in dried darkspawn blood and dust and other nasty, dirty things, like broodmother vomit. He shuddered just thinking about it.
They all dragged their feet across the Diamond Quarter all the way to the Royal Palace to officially meet the King. Why he couldn't speak to them right there in the Chamber of the Assembly and then just let them collapse in a dark corner somewhere and sleep, Alistair had no clue.
Kallian finally obtained a formal promise for troops against the darkspawn on the surface and Alistair closed his eyes in relief. Maybe now was the time for sleep. He wondered how he was going to make it back to camp. Oh wait… they still had to go to the Shaperate and speak to that widow Filda about her son…
He groaned, feeling his knees buckle under him. He was not going to make it.
"Now, if there's nothing else…" the King was saying, apparently dismissing them. Alistair sighed, trying to force his feet to move.
That was when his love said the three most wonderful words he had ever heard coming out of her mouth.
"We need rooms."
All right, maybe second most wonderful words… still, he almost fainted with relief. He thought he was done for when she added, after a pause:
"…And baths."
He felt like he was about to weep with joy at the thought. Holy Maker, baths! He grasped desperately at his last shreds of self-control to keep an impassive face.
The King was apparently not in a position to disagree. They had been before his eyes (and under his nose) for a certain time now.
"Of course," he said amiably. He gestured to some servants and they were promptly escorted to very comfortable guest rooms. Baths were drawn, food was brought and then he was left utterly, deliciously alone.
He peeled off his armour and piled it up in a corner before digging voraciously into the food. Once his hunger was sated, he removed the rest of his clothes and sank into the warm water of the bath. After a very thorough scrubbing, he let himself lay back and enjoy the warmth. No sooner was his head resting against the edge of the tub than he fell asleep.
Someone knocking on the door awakened him. The water was cold and he felt somewhat rested from this short nap.
"Just a second!" he shouted, coming out of the tub and drying himself quickly. He threw the wet towel on the floor by the bed, quickly pulled a clean shirt from his pack and put it on. Maybe it was a servant bringing in more food, he thought eagerly, opening the door wide.
It wasn't.
It was Kallian.
She was all cleaned up, her hair still wet from her bath. She was wearing her nightdress, which was actually one of his old shirts he had given her when she was complaining about having nothing comfortable to sleep in. It went all the way down to her knees and the too-long sleeves were rolled up above her elbows. She was looking at him with that little lopsided grin he knew so well and his mouth went dry. She was barefoot, without breeches and… Maker, was she naked under there?
Already there were parts of him… very private parts of him… that were strongly reacting to her mere presence. Maker have mercy, the things she could do to him…
"A kiss goodnight?" she asked, her arms stretching out, and he very nearly whimpered.
It suddenly dawned on him that he was very alone in a very private guest room… Such an opportunity might very well never present itself again.
He took her hands in his and pulled her into the room, closing the door behind her.
"All right… I guess I really don't know how to ask you this…"
He swallowed nervously, fervently hoping she would attribute his sudden blush to the warmth of the bath. No such luck, apparently.
"Are you… sweating?" she asked, and it wasn't good at all because she sounded worried, and she tenderly raised a hand to caress his brow and he found himself leaning into the light touch, wanting more of her skin against him and… focus.
He babbled an incoherent answer and she listened with a small smile on her lips, apparently finding his embarrassment very endearing. It didn't help with the nervousness at all, but at least she wasn't running away… yet. He breathed deeply and took her hands back in his.
"Here's the thing… being near you makes me crazy, but I can never imagine being without you, ever."
He said something about his head exploding and she laughed, but she suddenly seemed more nervous, even a little bit wary. The suspense was apparently killing her and, really, it was killing him as well, so he just blurted out what he really wanted to say.
"I want to spend the night with you. Here."
He kept talking, watching with dread as she withdrew her hands from his to wring them together as her face paled. There was even a bit of fear in her eyes now, he thought, as he waited eagerly for her answer, any answer.
"Even though I'm not human like you?" she asked, and he could hear a tremor in her voice.
He heard what she was not saying, what she was too afraid to ask: "Even if I'm just an elf and you're a potential heir to the throne? Even if in another life I could have been your servant and you wouldn't even have looked at me twice?"
"Especially because of that," he said, and it was the truth: especially because they were never meant to be and that was the perfect proof that they truly loved each other for who they were, not because of race or title, but because their feelings for each other ran deeper than the surface.
"But… but spend the night with me? Are you sure?"
Was he sure? He nearly groaned. He had never been so sure of anything in his whole life. Every little bit of him was sure.
He kept talking, trying to convince her, and somewhere along the line he must have said the right thing because suddenly she was taking a step forward and gently pressing her fingers on his lips, her smile returning.
"No need to say anything else. I agree."
"All right," he said, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. "I'm going to… stop talking… now…"
Her lips replaced her fingers on his mouth, kissing him softly. As he wrapped his arms around her he was overwhelmed by the realization that there was no armour between them, and he could feel her soft, warm body moulding itself so perfectly to his as her lips moved slowly against his mouth, the tip of her tongue flicking teasingly. His mind reeled with the idea that this was really going to happen and a strangled moan, almost a sob, escaped him.
She pulled back from the kiss, both her hands flat on his chest pushing him away; then her fingers found the laces of his shirt. As she slowly undid them, he forced himself to stand still. He was so unbelievably, achingly hard for her already, and each brush of her fingers on the bare skin of his chest that she was exposing bit by bit made his breath hitch, but he didn't want to rush her.
She finally let go of the laces and her hands ghosted against his skin, sliding under the fabric. He automatically raised his arms as she pulled up the shirt over his head and let it fall on the floor. She took a step back, her wide eyes roaming all over his body, and he resisted the temptation to cross his hands over that part of himself that was so obviously begging for attention. Of course, soon enough her gaze fell there, and she took in a shaky breath as she looked back up at him, her eyes filled with wonder.
"Already?" she murmured, raising a hesitant hand towards it, and this time he couldn't keep the whimper from escaping his lips as the damned thing actually twitched in anticipation. She pulled back her hand.
"Oh, sorry, no? Too soon? Do you want to undress me first?"
Oh, so he had to choose between her hand touching him there or finally getting to see her naked? How exactly was he supposed to last through this again?
His body made the choice for him. He watched as his hands reached out by themselves, his fingers working the laces of her shirt with some difficulty. He tried to do as she did, letting the garment fall to the ground without touching her too much. She was naked under there. His hands were shaking and he let them fall to his sides as he feasted his eyes on her beautiful naked body. He wanted to be respectful and he didn't want her to feel rushed or pressured but it soon felt pretty awkward to just stand there naked looking at each other, and damn it her breasts were just there…
Her gaze fell back down and an incredulous smile curved her lips, and he was painfully aware that the damn thing was twitching again, jolts of pleasure running through his whole body and he was only imagining touching her.
She took him by the hand to guide him to the bed and he followed in a sort of daze. She made him lie on his back as she nestled by his side, one of her leg slightly thrown over his and her arm draped across his chest, the contact of so much of her skin against his bringing him to new heights of pleasure. She propped herself up on her elbow and leaned over him hesitantly. Her kiss began soft and tender, and it felt extremely good, but then all of a sudden he was aware of her hand caressing his chest, teasing his nipples, of her breasts pressed against him, of her knee between his legs, and all he could do was moan helplessly against her mouth.
He tried to resist the onslaught of sensations but then she deepened the kiss, and when he felt her tongue in his mouth, soft and teasing and so inviting, he very nearly lost his mind. His hands were on her at last, roaming aimlessly, and she was so soft and so hot against him and he didn't know exactly where he was grasping her but she felt so damn good under his trembling fingers. He was gasping for breath against her mouth, trying to cling to the tattered remnants of his ability to think, yearning to tell her to please slow down but at the same time please don't stop, when he felt her hand tentatively snake down his abdomen. Then her knee slid up his inner thigh and brushed against him down there, and it was all so very, very good but it was just too much, too quick.
He broke the kiss, gasping, and tried to tell her to wait, but at the same time her fingers found their intended target and she closed her hand around him. All that came out of his open mouth was a loud, hoarse cry of pure ecstasy. His hips uncontrollably jerked up, pushing into her hand and he threw his head back, moaning and gasping, closing his eyes in sheer bliss. This was nothing like his own touch; it was so unbelievably better, this overwhelming feeling of her fingers stroking him, and he opened his eyes to convince himself of the reality that it was really her giving him so much pleasure. She was looking at him, her wide eyes full of wonder and fascination, and her smile widened when she saw him watching her. She leaned closer to put her mouth against his ear.
"You're so damn sexy," she whispered, and it was like her words went straight to his core. His hips jerked up again, her firm hand stroking him with the movement and pleasure shot through him. It was almost too late already, but this time he managed to make his mouth work somewhat.
"Kalli, stop… ah! Wait… no don't… unh… I can't… I'm going to… ngh!"
She wasn't stopping.
She kept her hand on him, her breasts pressed against his chest. She was kissing him again, passionately, urgently, and it was all just too much; too much sensations, too much emotions and too much pent-up frustration. All of those long nights aching for her, all of this unsatisfied yearning overpowered whatever shreds of self-control he still possessed.
It felt as if his whole body exploded from overwhelming ecstasy as his orgasm shuddered through him, long and hard, and it was perfect bliss… for about a minute. Then, when reality slowly began to settle back, shame took over as he realized the whole night was ruined by his own eagerness and his inability to control himself.
He sat up and tried clumsily to clean himself up with the wet towel he retrieved by the bed, unable to look her in the eye.
"Kalli, I'm so sorry, you were just so good and it's just been so long…"
A hand rested on his wrist, stopping his movement, and he reluctantly looked up at her. She was looking at him with a kind of fascinated adoration, wiping her own hands on the towel and… yes, there was lust in her eyes, although for the life of him he couldn't understand why she wasn't mad…
"Don't be ashamed, Alistair. Do you know how it feels, knowing that the mere touch of my hand can bring you such pleasure? How it feels to see you lose control so completely for me?" She took his hand in hers and pressed it against her left breast. He could feel her heart beating wildly under his fingers, "See how you make me feel? Seeing your ecstasy and knowing it all comes from me, that I'm the one making you feel like that… it excites me," she whispered. "It arouses me. Don't you know what that means to me?" She burst out in a surprised, joyful laughter. "This… this is enough. This is perfect."
He couldn't believe what he was hearing. With an incredulous chuckle, he raised a hand to tenderly caress her cheek.
"You crazy little thing," he whispered. "Only you could make me feel proud about this."
She laughed heartily, snuggling against him as he lay back on the bed, his arms wrapped around her.
"Plenty of time tomorrow," she whispered. "I love you so much. Now go to sleep."
He did.
He woke up to the feeling of her lips against his mouth, of her body almost lying on top of his. This time he flipped her on her back, intent of giving her the same amount of pleasure she had bestowed upon him. For a long time, his lips and hands wandered over her body, eliciting only soft sighs and small nods. He wanted to curse his inexperience, his inexistent knowledge, until he flicked his tongue over her earlobe and she inhaled loudly, arching her back off the bed and pressing her whole body against his.
"Do… do that again," she whispered. He did, this time keeping the lobe between his lips and suckling. She laughed, a loud, surprised burst of joy. "This… this is amazing!"
"How about this?" he asked, running the tip of his tongue along the whole shell of her ear. He felt her shiver under him.
"Hmm, yes..."
He understood then what she had meant when she said that the thought of her hands giving him such pleasure was arousing to her. The sounds she was making were enough to drive him mad with desire.
"Show me again what you want," he whispered in her ear.
She did. She guided his hands, lips and tongue over her body, telling him what she liked, how much pressure to apply, how to move his fingers. It was not perfect, maybe there was a lot of awkward fumbling and some inventive cursing as well, but there was also a lot of shared laughter, deep moans and uncontrolled exclamations of pleasure bursting out of her, and he wouldn't have wanted it any other way. Soon she was writhing under him, out of breath, laughing in delight and guiding him inside her.
There was nothing else: no Blight, no darkspawn, no companions, no dwarves or Dalish or mages, no world to save. There was just the two of them, their bodies moving together towards ecstasy, whispering words of love in the darkness. This was what it felt like to be loved, to be whole. He could never let it go.
He would never let her go.