Sorry for that last short chapter. Chapter-splitting is a skill I'm still learning. :-)
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The next afternoon they were talking in her room again when there was a knock at the door. Anja knew something was up when Alistair jumped to his feet to answer it.
"Anders." Alistair swung the door wide to let Anders in, and clapped him on the back.
Anja heard a cat's meow, and Anders turned to find that he'd been followed. "Pounce, you arrogant little imp!" He shooed his cat back into the hallway. "Believe it or not, you aren't welcome everywhere I go."
Anja stood, brows knit, regarding him. "Anders! To what do we owe the pleasure?"
He reached around to remove his staff and its sling from his back, then leaned them against the corner near the door. He slipped off his shoes and gave her a mischievous grin. "Good afternoon, Anja." He looked briefly around her room before answering. "I believe you owe the pleasure to…pleasure," he said, with a meaningful glance at Alistair. "I must admit, though, this isn't exactly how I imagined our first time would play out."
The crease in her brow deepened. "Our first…?"
Anja's eyes darted to Alistair, who responded with an arch look. As his meaning dawned on her, her mouth fell open. This could not be happening. Could it?
Anders was whistling jauntily now and starting to remove his spaulders—those same black-feathered garments that had made her knock-kneed the day they'd met. Anja looked again to Alistair. He nodded silently, and his unhesitating assent sent a shiver up her spine.
She stepped up quietly behind Anders. "Here, let me help you with those," she offered breathlessly, her voice almost giving out.
"Oh, by all means," he purred. Then he smiled at her over his shoulder, as if to say, "See? I knew we'd get together eventually."
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If you're under 18 or don't like graphic depictions of sex, please skip to the next chapter. Suffice it to say that a good time was had by all. :-)
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As she reached for a buckle her fingers brushed against the dark plumage, making a dry swishing sound. Many mages wore feathers. Why had these always affected her so? She supposed she might never know the answer.
She laid his spaulders on the dresser and moved on to his robes. "So, I'm just going to do what I like here, until someone tells me otherwise," Anders commented to no one in particular as Anja unfastened the clasp at his neck. As she helped him shrug the garment off she took a second to admire his form. He looked almost as strong as Alistair, yet she'd never seen him exercise. Maybe he got out before the sun came up?
He held out his arms so she could work at his black leather bracers. She removed them, followed by his gold armbands, and then only his skirt remained.
"It fastens in the back," he said, pulling her into him and placing her hands just above the waistband.
She colored as she found herself pressed up against him, her breasts mashed into his naked chest. She inadvertently pulled him even closer as she tried to undo the minuscule hooks, and she felt something stir against her thigh.
"No rush," he teased. "Please, take your time!"
After the third hook came undone he wiggled his hips, and she pulled the skirt over his head and tossed it aside. He stood before her in nothing but his small clothes now, and while her mind might have felt a bit uncomfortable at this wholly unexpected situation, her body clearly had no problem with it at all.
"Your turn," Anders said, leading Anja to the edge of the bed. He turned her away from him, and she glanced over at Alistair. He was standing in the same place as earlier, his expression impassive. "Go on, love," she coaxed him, feeling not a little guilty. "You won't have any fun with all your clothes on."
The sound of her voice seemed to shake him from his reverie. "I suppose you're right," he responded, and began unlacing his tunic.
Anders undid all her hooks and pulled her top and skirt over her head. Then he undid her breastband and let it fall to the floor, leaving her in her small clothes. He kissed and traced his fingertips over her neck and shoulders, making her shudder, and turned her around again to place a scorching kiss on her lips.
"Lie down, darling," he said, nudging her backward across the bed.
He lay down beside her and began by barely touching her, lightly kissing her neck and shoulder again, tracing the curve of her breasts with his fingertips. It was all so barely there and she was so ticklish that in no time she found herself writhing and shuddering under his hands. She reached out to Alistair. Naked now, he walked toward the bed and lay down on her other side, and she closed her eyes and willed herself to relax as the two men's fingers, lips, and tongues descended upon her skin.
Anders walked his fingers down to the joining of her thighs and began stroking her through her small clothes. Again his touch was light and teasing, but she was so wet that the fabric stuck to her. It might as well not have been there at all, and it was all she could do not to thrust her hips and chase more of the friction that she already needed so badly.
As he sensed her growing frustration, a devilish smile crept into Anders' voice. "So I owe you an apology, Anja. You were right. Not so straight after all." A low, reflexive moan escaped her, and he laughed deep in his throat.
He slipped his hand into her small clothes and drew his middle finger up her slick sex, stopping before he got to the top. He withdrew his hand and coated a nipple thickly with her quim, teasing it to point and flicking his tongue against it before slipping it into his mouth and sucking greedily. He groaned as he tasted her, and through his small clothes she felt his cock jump against her thigh.
She opened one eye and saw that Alistair had rolled away from her and was stroking himself lazily, apparently content for now to watch the show. She reached out to him, but he made a quiet sound of reassurance and gently pushed her hand away.
Anders moved lower down the bed, kissing and licking her stomach. He caught the narrow band of her small clothes between his teeth and slowly tugged on them until they were down around her knees. She slid one long calf out and settled back into the bed, trying not to spread her legs too obviously despite her growing desperation.
But he wasted no time, and she was glad of it. His bangs fell over his forehead as he licked the hollows of her upper thighs, then teased her outer lips apart and went to work, still delicately, still teasingly, on the pink flesh within. When he finally flicked her hard little bead with his tongue, she thought she might scream. Her left hand went into his hair of its own accord and began tenderly massaging his scalp.
He settled in, expertly licking and sucking, and every time she got close he would ease her back down. Eventually she gave up trying to come and ceded control to him. Before long she felt the bed spin lazily to and fro, as if floating in the current of some ancient, meandering river. On the backs of her eyelids she saw a shifting palette of colors, and every now and then a different number would flash before her, always white, always a single digit, before growing in size and then slowly fading away.
She had a single conscious thought: Sweet Maker, did he know how to go down.
When Anders decided she'd had enough he slipped two fingers inside her and curled them slightly, sliding them in and out. He sped up the flutter of his tongue, keeping the pressure constant, and seconds later her body was wracked by spasms of pleasure as she reached an explosive climax. Alistair tried to stifle her wails with one hand while coming into his other.
As she thrashed about, trying free her mouth to gasp for air, she felt Anders' hot, chuckling breath against her sex.
"Liked that, did we? So did I. Always good to enjoy one's work, wouldn't you agree?"
She longed to see the knowing, self-satisfied look on his face, to see his mouth and chin slick and shining with her come. But she simply couldn't will herself to open her eyes just yet. She turned her to Alistair and pulled him down into a deep, languorous kiss, and she was deeply relieved and grateful to encounter no hint of reluctance, discomfort, or hurt as she lovingly probed his mouth and offered him her tongue.
"Mmm, isn't that nice," Anders said under his breath. Anja imagined him teasing and tugging at himself through his small clothes as he spied their kiss, and as her body responded to that image she wondered how she would ever thank Alistair for this night.
Despite her satisfaction, or maybe because of the way in which it had been given, she still felt a yearning emptiness. She wanted, needed, one of them inside her. But how to ask?
She broke her kiss with Alistair and opened her eyes, looking at each of them in turn. Her lover was still quiet and uncharacteristically serious, his hazel eyes calm as he gently palmed one of her breasts, tweaking her nipple between his second and third fingers. Anders looked just as she'd imagined he would, and she was awed again by his relaxed demeanor as he grinned and started pulling himself up toward her.
She hesitated, not knowing how to communicate what she wanted. This night was already all about her; the thought of making requests seemed almost gluttonous. Finally, a little voice in her head spoke up.
Stop being such a ninny! This will probably happen only once—do you really want to miss out because you, the Hero of Ferelden, uniter of armies, slayer of Urthemiel, didn't have the temerity to open your bloody mouth?
She looked up again at Alistair. "I'd…I'd like you to take me from behind while I go down on Anders," she said, her voice almost squeaking.
"As you wish, my love," he said with a nod, and kissed her again before patting her hip to signal her to change position.
Anders made his way to the headboard and, after plumping a pillow against it, laid back against it, his legs splayed out before him.
"I think I need to lose these," he suggested to Anja with a wink, tugging at his smalls. "Will you do the honors?"
She recalled the crack she'd made the day they met. "So I should have been the one to learn that spell!" He laughed, and she was flattered he'd remembered it. He was gazing at her thoughtfully, and she knew that he too was recalling their first meeting. She wondered, not for the first time, what had run through his mind the first time he saw her.
What a strange turn of events all of this was. If someone had told her that within a month she'd have Anders in her bed—along with Alistair, no less—she'd have sworn the prognosticator was either drunk or suffering from lyrium exposure.
"Come here and kiss me," Anders said, reaching one foot around her bottom and dragging her toward him. He pulled her head to his and kissed her hungrily, open-mouthed, his tongue demanding that she taste herself on him. "Be sure to clean me well, darling," he said throatily into her ear, and she moaned and licked the wide swath of ever-present stubble around his lips and chin.
Then she motioned for Alistair to join them. She leaned back between them, an arm raised around the back of each man's head, kissing the lips of one and then the other, and the thought that Alistair was tasting her from Anders' mouth made the blood throb low in her belly.
Alistair gave a sudden yelp. "Anders," he growled. "No!"
"Oh, you don't like rejuvenation spells?" Anders tsked, sounding disappointed. "You heard what Anja asked for a moment ago. I thought the motto for today was, 'What the woman wants, the woman gets.' Or did I misunderstand something?"
"No magic in the bedroom!" Alistair bellowed. Anja reached out to try to shush him.
"You can't be serious," Anders protested, mouth agape. He turned to Anja with the look of a child being denied a sweet on a special occasion. "He can't be serious!"
"It's difficult to unlearn," Alistair muttered, flushing slightly.
"Anders," she said, rubbing Alistair's cheek. "Templar training, remember? Be nice."
"Oh, all right," he grumbled. "But you should work on that. You two are really missing out." He paused and shook his head. "Now, where were we?" He clasped his hands behind his head and stretched, arching his back and wiggling his toes, his erection straining against the cloth of his small clothes.
Anja kissed Alistair one more time and then moved to lower herself between Anders' thighs. There was a wet smear directly over the bulge in the fabric, and his musky scent tickled her nose. How many times, lying dejected and alone in her room at night, had she imagined a moment like this? She closed her eyes as a current of excitement crackled over her skin.
She bent her head and sucked on the wet spot, enjoying the salty taste, then started licking at him through the material, occasionally scraping her teeth across it or mouthing him, breathing hot, moist air through the damp cloth. As she tugged the garment just far enough down his hips to spring him free and give her full access to him, she felt a callused hand cup her buttock and trail down to draw circles on her inner thigh, making her quiver and gasp.
This would be excellent, indeed.
She took Anders into her mouth and went to work, attending to his shaft, sac, and crown and, with the help of her hands, sometimes all three at once. Anders wound his hands into her hair, groaning, writhing, and rocking his hips as Anja did everything she could to make it as good for him as he had for her. Meanwhile, Alistair's fingers teased and caressed her until she raised herself onto her knees and elbows and looked at him imploringly over her shoulder.
"Alistair…please…"
His eyes were almost glassy with arousal at her need as he moved to kneel behind her. He placed kisses along her spine and teased her briefly before plunging in all the way, making her cry out with pleasure. He plumbed her slowly and thoroughly, enabling her to set the rhythm among the three of them, and the sensation as he repeatedly hit that special spot deep inside only made her minister to Anders even more fervently.
She looked up and Anders' head was pressed back against the headboard, his chin jutting upward and the cords in his neck standing out. Sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead, and his eyes were narrowed to slits. When he looked down and caught her gazing at him, she saw his Adam's apple move as he swallowed hard. He cupped her cheek with one hand, then reached down to caress her breast, pulling her nipple between his fingers. Her eyes closed as she felt tiny static sparks in her clit, urging her higher. She wondered if she was imagining them. She looked up and their eyes met again, and his strained expression softened as a tiny, conspiratorial smile played at one corner of his mouth.
Maker's balls, was he sexy! And, it seemed, completely incorrigible. He was being subtle and very, very careful, but she knew that Alistair must be fully preoccupied to miss what Anders was doing.
At the multitude of sensations—Anders in her mouth, his fingers rolling her nipple, the little jolts of current, and Alistair beginning to move more purposefully inside her—she began groaning regularly and involuntarily, eventually setting off a chain reaction among the three of them. When she came, her cries and the feel of them reverberating in her throat brought Anders to his end. Their commingled sounds of ecstasy then undid Alistair, and his own voice joined the mix. As she rode out her bliss she found herself uncharacteristically eager to devour every drop of Anders' seed while her pulsing sheath rhythmically milked Alistair's cock.
Relishing the residual notes of their lovemaking, she rolled onto her back and beckoned both of them into her arms, and the three of them curled into each other and soon dozed off.
She woke a bit later with a start. The sun was low on the horizon now, bathing the room in pink and gold. Anders slept to her right and Alistair to her left, and she quietly turned her head back and forth a few times, comparing their features. Though Alistair was more classically handsome, she realized with surprise that they could almost be brothers. And she'd never noticed how much red there was in Anders' hair.
As she watched them sleep and admired the slant of fading light and shadow across their battle-toned bodies, she again felt a tug down low in her belly. She reached out one hand to rouse each of them.
They woke up in turn, and when they realized what she was doing, they each lay on their side next to her and started making love to her mouth, neck, breasts, and belly. Alistair reached down and fondled her until the three of them became one undulating, sighing beast.
"I have an idea," Anders offered. "Something I'd like us to do for Anja. But Alistair, it will take some…tolerance on your part."
"What is it?" Alistair asked. Anja noted that he seemed much more relaxed now than when Anders had arrived this afternoon. But that wasn't really surprising, given the afternoon's activities.
"I'd like you to go down on her while I take her from behind."
A little moan issued from her lips. Leave it to Anders to guess her most cherished fantasy. Andraste save her—the two of them were going to send her to the Fade before this evening was over.
"I…will that even work?"
"It'll work. Trust me."
Anders had Alistair lie flat on his back, with his head at the headboard. Alistair made himself comfortable and adjusted his pillow, then beckoned Anja with both hands. She crawled over to him and before she could do anything else, he whispered in her ear. "Enjoying yourself?"
"You've no idea," she breathed, then summoned all her gratitude and love for him and covered his face and mouth in kisses. When they slowed, he put his hands around her waist and shimmied her up so she was leaning against the headboard, her arms crossed against the wall.
The moment he started she could tell that something was different. Had he already taken a lesson from Anders? Instead of using the tip of his tongue he was using broad strokes, covering wide swaths of her and avoiding the sensitive parts. As the pleasure started its slow build, she pressed her hips forward and reached down to caress his face and tug softly at his hair. Her position didn't allow her to see anything, but she could hear the sounds of both of men pleasing themselves, and Anders' murmurs of encouragement.
After a couple of minutes the bed creaked and she felt Anders move in behind her. He placed one arm around her and very slowly slid two fingers into her sex, sliding in the wetness that Alistair had left behind and moving with her as she rocked against Alistair's tongue. With his other hand he cupped and kneaded her breast. Anja wondered, with both of them straddling him, if Alistair even had room to breathe. But the groans from deep in his chest and the sounds of him working at his own pleasure reassured her.
Just then she felt Anders press against her entrance. Time seemed to come to a standstill while he rubbed and stroked and circled. "Do it," she hissed. "Do it now, or you'll be washing dishes for a month!" He laughed, and his voice was like honey. He entered her in one thrust, and she was gratified to hear his undignified grunt.
The two men held her closely now—Alistair with one forearm curled around her thigh, Anders with one arm slung low around her hips. There was no escape, no way she could dodge or wriggle away. But once again they let her set the pace, then moved in tandem with her.
Suddenly she felt Alistair start beneath her. Anders chuckled into her shoulder. "Relax, man. It's just a bit of grease. Didn't want you getting the, uh, short end of the stick, as it were," he said, laughing at his own joke. There was no sound from Alistair except a groan as the grease had its intended effect.
They continued that way until Anja was mindless and whimpering. Then Anders' face turned against her shoulder, and she inhaled sharply as she felt a most unexpected, and unexpectedly pleasurable, sensation. A slippery fingertip was lightly exploring the sensitive skin around her anus. With Alistair's tongue painting a masterpiece against her and Anders driving into her and fondling her breast, and now this latest addition, tickling, teasing—she didn't know how much longer she could stand it, at the same time she wanted it never to end.
And then Anders worked his finger just barely inside. For an almost endless moment, everything stopped—then exploded. Anja howled as waves of pleasure washed over her, every muscle in her lower body contracting and quivering in the strongest orgasm of her life. Once again her two lovers followed her, and their exultant cries drew her own crisis out longer than she'd have thought possible.
And once again, after minutes of kissing and petting and murmured words of affection, the three of them fell quickly to sleep.