Lyn awakes with a mental start, but her body stays still. There is a warm body pressed up close to hers, a muscled arm resting under her head, and for a moment she can't remember how that came to be. She feels safe, however, and that feeling keeps her from leaping from the bed and reaching for the nearest weapon. A quick glance around the room shows her hound sleeping peacefully by the fire, and the bolt on the door firmly in place, both signs that nothing is amiss. Then the scent of warm man, leather, and a lingering whiff of soap fills her nose, and the earlier night's events come crashing back. Dean is who is in bed with her. They'd kissed. Maker! She'd wanted to do a whole lot more then kiss, and it had seemed like he had too. But he'd made her rest, because he'd seen through her tough front, and known she hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in a long time.

An ache in her chest makes her realize that she's been holding her breath, and she releases it with a silent whoosh. Dean stirs in his sleep, a look of pain distorting his face. Lyn lifts a hand free of the blankets, and brushes it lightly across his brow in a soothing motion. His face relaxes in response, softening, and losing it's sharp angles of pain. She studies his face in the light from the dying fire, noting every laughter line, and the way his reddish-brown beard highlights his cheekbones. There is a chill in the air, and she draws her hand back under the covers, letting it rest on his chest. Her hand spreads outwards, and explores the curves of muscle under his skin. He must have taken his tunic off sometime in the night, because she would have remembered if he'd been shirtless before they fell asleep.

Dean's breathing is soft and steady, and Lyn continues to let her hand explore the hard plain of his chest and torso. Her head is nestled comfortably in the hollow of his shoulder, and she lets her eyes close again as her hand continues to wander. His skin radiates heat, hot as an oven. It warms her all the way through, and she can't remember the last time she was this warm while resting. Her fingers never linger long in one place, and their touch is feather light. She lets them coast along his ribs, and explore the hard ridges of his abs. Feeling bold, she lets her hand venture further south, over his wool breeks. Something makes the fabric twitch as her hand finds it's way to the thigh closest to her, and she smiles mischievously against his shoulder.

"You're an evil woman, you know that?"

Dean's voice comes out thick with sleep, but with an undercurrent of something that sends an electric tingle down to her toes. She opens her eyes and gazes up towards his face, to find him looking at her with half closed eyes, eyebrows raised slightly. She smiles again, this time using her best innocent look.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

A snort escapes him, making it very clear that he doesn't believe her pretended innocence one bit. Feeling bold, Lyn lets her hand wander again while keeping her eyes on his. She feels, more then hears, his breath hitch as she lets her fingers stroke the rough wool fabric over his cock. His whole body tenses as she continues to tease him with her hand, while beginning to kiss and taste the skin of his shoulder next to her head. Dean is mesmerized by her teasing, his whole body tense and awaiting every touch and every kiss. When she fastens her lips on the nearest nipple, he quivers with awareness. She is merciless and unrelenting with her teasing, never giving him a few seconds to recover. When she slips her hand inside his breeks and fastens her warm fingers around his straining cock, he groans with need. He can feel her smile against his chest in response, but her lips and tongue never stop their teasing. The thin layer of cotton of her chemise chafes his skin as she lets her breasts rub against his side.

Unable to restrain himself any longer, he reaches down and shoves her hand away so he can remove his breeks. As soon as he's free from them he begins removing her chemise and small clothes, with her assistance. She giggles when he makes a frustrated noise, because her clothing isn't coming off as fast as he'd like. With all the fabric removed, he relishes the feel of skin on skin. She nips at his side, using her teeth, and he growls in response. Months of celibacy has left him with a need that makes him dizzy.

Lyn shifts, and leans across his chest so she can get to his other nipple. Her hands wander as her mouth suckles on the hard nub. The feel of her soft breasts against his chest makes him groan again, the fact that he can't get to them fills him with frustration. Lyn squeaks as Dean's hands grab her by the hips and hoists her up and on top of him, it takes her a moment to regain her balance, a knee pressed into the bed on each side of his hips. Once stable, she sits up and the blankets slip from her back, ending up somewhere behind her, but she doesn't notice. Dean is starring at her chest with a hunger in his green eyes that makes her skin flair with renewed heat. She lets him stare a moment longer, then leans forward so they hang just in front of his face. He accepts her offering, and begins to tease the sensitive skin between her breasts.

Lyn loses herself to his teasing, grinding her hips against his. She angles herself just right and sighs with contentment once he slips inside her. Everything becomes a blur of heat, sweat, pleasure, and the drumming of her heartbeat in her ears. His hands on her hips seem to brand her with his wanting, she rides him, curtain of brown hair streaming down her back and eyes closed in ecstasy. Her release comes hard and fast, leaving her weak and collapsed on his chest. His hips pick up the rhythm where she'd left it. She nips and kisses the side of his neck as he continues to thrust inside her, enjoying the salty taste of his skin. A second wave of tension begins to build, and all she can do is hold on to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, as she comes again. His release follows swiftly, leaving the two of them breathing hard and covered in sweat.

A warm lassitude fills her body, and she feels oddly comfortable where she is, on Dean's chest. Her calm is ripped away when the scar on her side twinges as a cold draft slides across the room, causing her to wince slightly. Lyn lifts her head to search for the blankets, and sees them just out of reach. Dean watches as she rolls off of him and reaches for the covers.

"That looks like it was painful."

She glances over her shoulder, eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"Huh?"

He raises his arm, and lets his fingers trace the scar on her side, from hip all the way up her side to just under her armpit. His touch is light, and she swallows nervously as he inspects the remnants of her fight against Uldred's pride demon and it's abominations. Thanks to Wynne and Morrigan's hard work, the scar had faded to silver along it's length, only the part on her hip still an angry purple. Lyn looks down at her hip, and the small divot left by the hunger abomination's poison that had eaten away the flesh there. Under her skin, the scar tissue keeps her from ever forgetting that night in the circle tower.

"You could say that. It certainly wasn't pleasant."

Her sarcasm causes his eyebrows to draw upwards and together. She ignores his look, and pulls the blankets back into place. She settles herself against his side again, but this time facing away from his chest. He shifts, so he's on his side as well, and pulls her tight against him. She offers no resistance to the closer contact, but he can feel the tension in her body. Dean wrestles with himself, trying to come up with something to say or do that will make her relax again, and bring back that easy comfort they'd had just moments ago. Unsure, and not wanting to upset her further, he just holds her closer, arms tight and protective.

Lyn isn't sure why she's feeling this way, Dean didn't do anything wrong. She isn't even mad at him, but she's mad at something or someone. Actually she's mad at a lot of someones, but there is nothing she can do about it now. She draws in a deep draft of air and then slowly lets it back out, trying to exhale her anger with the used breath. It takes her a few more tries, but she starts to feel calmer, Dean's tight hold helping to remind her that not everything is bad.

"Sorry."

The word slips from her lips, full of genuine regret. Dean responds by kissing the back of her head gently, keeping his arms tight around her. She sighs and wraps her arms around his, covering his hands with hers.

"I got that scar in a rather nasty fight. I got flung across a room and against a wall, then, while stunned, a hunger abomination tried to eat me. One of it's poison teeth got stuck in my hip when I broke it's skull with my staff. That was almost a year ago, but I lost a lot of friends in that fight, and almost lost my life."

"You survived, that's all that matters."

Lyn refuses to think about those weeks of recovery. She forcefully turns her mind to more relevant things, like the last few things she needs to get done before the Landsmeet is called. She worries at her to do list, biting her lower lip as her mind turns things over and inspects the different plans. Just as she's about to rehash her plan for how to present Alistair to the nobles, Dean starts to nibble at the back of her neck. Instantly her body responds, blood rushing to her face and making her feel very hot.

"That's better."

Dean's smug tone makes Lyn smile. She is tempted to do something to torture him, but the sounds of life stirring outside her door reminds her that she needs to get up. It wouldn't do for the rest of their party to have to wait on her, and Dean. Maker... she's spent the night with Dean. The odds of the others not noticing are slim to none. She's not sure what she dreads more, Wynne's reaction or what Alistair might do.

"What have I done?"

Lyn's anguished tone echoes across the cold room, and she is tempted to just huddle under the blankets and never come out.

"Do I have to lay it all out for you? I thought you were well aware of what you were doing."

Dean's voice is amused, but there is a guarded undertone that makes Lyn flinch inwardly. She turns over so she faces him. A sarcastic smile shows on his face, but doesn't quite reach his eyes. Regret for her outburst grabs at Lyn's heart, and she places a hand on Dean's chest, right above his heart.

"Oh Dean, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way. I don't regret a moment of what we've shared. I'm just dreading the inevitable gossip and lecturing that will be the result."

Dean studies her face, and lets the hurt pride go. She isn't lying, he'd completely forgotten that they'd have to deal with the rest of their companions. In fact, now that he thinks about it, this will most likely make his friendship with Alistair a bit strained. Zevran had regaled him one night with the tale of the templar and Lyn's romance in response to Dean's question regarding the constant tension between the two when he'd first joined their band. Dean doesn't feel any guilt, Alistair gave up his right to have an opinion about Lyn's love life when he'd agreed with Eamon that he couldn't stay with the elven Warden. Now that Lyn is his, he isn't planning on letting her go unless she asks him to.

"Well, I guess we better get cleaned up and dressed then."

Lyn smiles at Dean, glad that he's forgiven her hasty words. She gets out of the bed, quickly cleans herself up, and gets dressed, taking a moment to throw Dean's discarded tunic at his head playfully. He counters by throwing a pillow at her, making her giggle. They continue to pick on each other playfully as they get their armor on, and secure their weapons. When they finally exit the room, with their packs slung over their shoulders, Dane bounding ahead of them happily, both are smiling.

Morrigan is the only one already up and eating breakfast. She glances at the pair's smiling faces, rolls her eyes, and then returns to her porridge. Oghren is exactly where they left him the night before, and Lyn dumps a bowl of water over his head to wake him. Once the dwarf is coherent, he stumbles away to change into his armor. Dean takes a seat at the end of the booth, thinking that Lyn will sit next to the witch in order to be less obvious. But she places a bowl of porridge in front of him, and then sits as close as her armor will allow, a smile still on her face as she digs into her own breakfast.

Their other companions all eventually make their way out into the common room, and get something to eat. Alistair is the last to arrive, he glances at Lyn, who is laughing about something with Zevran, but something about her is different. His face pales as he notices how close the two Wardens are sitting, and the easy smiles they share. He's tempted to yell, to rage, or throw things, but instead he simply just turns and leaves without saying a word.

Lyn sees Alistair storm out, when the sound of the door slamming behind him echoes through the sleepy brothel, she chooses to ignore his tantrum and finishes her breakfast. She can feel Leilana casting curious glances towards the door and then back at Lyn, but Lyn ignores the bard. Dean listens intently as Lyn discusses her plans with Wynne. The elder mage agrees with the younger mage's approach to their current set of problems.

After their meal is finished, Lyn settles their bill with Sanga and then heads outside. The companions set off, Alistair pulling up the rear in moody silence. They leave Denerim and set off for Redcliffe. It's time to call the Landsmeet.