Sidona moved her fingers beneath the sheet, watching the shadows of the door through slitted eyes. Wood had moved on wood. She sent out blackness across the rug, to weaken any who came near, and held the next spell behind her lips.

The door's shadow widened. "It's me." She released her breath and dismissed her magic as Duncan eased the door shut behind him. He sighed and crossed the room to sit cross-legged against the floor, his back against the wall. She slipped from beneath the sheet, the straw in her mattress rustling, and went to him.

"I didn't think I'd find you in the bed," he said as she fit herself into his lap.

"I didn't know if they'd check in the morning."

He slid his hand over her hip in a comfortable way, rubbing the cloth of her shift. "A nightgown?" She tucked her head against his shoulder, her hair catching on his armor. She just nodded in reply, turning her face so that her closed eyes were pressed to the side of his throat.

"I'm not leaving you," he said. She pinched her eyes tighter against their sting and could feel her demon's touch from inside of them. She struggled quietly with it, forced it back, and as she did this Duncan said, "Don't do this again, Sidda. Talk to me," and lifted her up, laying her on the woven rug.

She took a breath and opened her eyes to the great shadow of him, moving above her, undoing buckles and sliding armor over his head, and then his warm skin was against her and he was kissing her. She held the back of his head with greedy hands and wound her legs around him.

"I'm not leaving you," he said again, lower now, near her ear, his beard scratching her cheek. "You'll be with us still."

He slid the loose nightgown further up and she helped him pull it away. His hands moved down to her hips, his thumbs in the hollows at the tops of her thighs, and she made a sound as he suckled her throat.

He pulled away, the night touching her skin where his warmth had left, but his hands—one held her knees apart, the other, the other's thumb just barely touched her opening, parting her slit.

She watched him, her breath growing quicker, and in the greys of the night she saw how he studied her, how he knelt back and stared, rapt, at the work of his thumb. His second thumb joined the first and he plunged both into her; her head fell back. He stretched her slowly apart, until she could feel a little cold air inside of her. Her wetness rolled down her skin; he caught it with the heel of his hand.

"Duncan," she whined, and his calm answer was, "I know," but still he held her open for his gaze as her ache grew, as she dreamed of his fingers filling her, more touch, more. He finally slid down on the floor and said, "I love you," just as he fastened his mouth above her opening.

He still held her spread but Maker he had gotten so good at this. She dug her hands, her nails into the back of his head and ground herself against his face, making small sobbing noises. Her hips lifted from the floor, her heels banged against it, he scraped the rough back of his tongue against her most sensitive place and she came, clenching against his thumbs, his beard already soaked.

He raised his head after a moment as she lay there, gasping, twitches running down her legs, and she gave a rough whimper when he removed his thumbs. He crawled up her body, kissing her between her breasts once, but she pushed him to roll over and stretched over his body.

She licked his chest, salty and rough with hair, licked his nipple; when she straightened his hands pulled down on her hips until he was seated fully in her. She tightened against him as she rode him, watched his face, watched how his features twisted with his moan when he thrust hard upward. She ground against him a few more times until he shuddered and clenched his hands at her hips. "Stop," he said.

When she had her forehead rested on his chest, feeling his heart thump beneath her skin, she said, "I also love you," and he didn't answer.

Eventually she shivered. "Might as well get used to sleeping in a bed," he said as he sat up. "At least it's your own."

"I suppose." He pulled her down into it and on one side there was rough linen and rustling straw, but on the other there was Duncan, still a little sticky, so that wasn't so bad.

"You don't know how to read, do you?" He asked, his arm settling over her back.

"No," she said, surprised. "You do? When did you learn that?" She squirmed against him, sinking deeper into the mattress, and put her nose against his collarbone.

"Fiona taught me on the way to Weisshaupt. I should have taught you." His body heaved in a sigh beside her and she closed her eyes. "Someone in this palace will know, so learn how, and I'll write to you."

"Duncan." She pinched her eyes tighter. "You said…"

"I'll be back. You'll come with us too on occasion. Sidda." He pushed back her hair until her face tipped up, his eyes close to hers, faint gleams in the darkness beneath the blanket. "I had words with the Commander, but he's right. I've told you what I've seen. We'll need the army of Orlais. The Emperor thinks that by choosing you, he won't have to listen to the Wardens. If you let him get away with that then everyone will die."

"You're my friend," she said, but by her tone she said I will do this. He rubbed his finger along the side of her nose; she smelled herself on him.

"You're mine. So will you learn how to read?"

Sleep was sinking into her, tiredness and comfort along her ribs and her hips, and his breath in her ear so familiar from the nights in their tucked-together corners in Jader. Still, she answered him. "I will."

Thanks to valiasedai to betaing this! Now I have Duncan smut just like her. Finally I'm cool!