Ah, the famous licking lamp posts discussion. Don't we all love it?
Thank you for your support and keep playing!
"So…have you ever licked a lamppost in winter?" he purred at her, lingering carefully on every word. Allira froze, wondering in that moment how she could suddenly feel so cold, and yet as if her stomach was aflame. She had never (and being an elf she had gotten some rather creative suggestions from humans who thoughts elves were promiscuous) heard anyone make anything sound so…so… erotic. He was obviously joking, but that didn't stop the fierce blush that quickly covered her cheeks. In fact, him joking about it, was making her blush all the worse. Obviously he had no idea what she used to daydream about. Or what she was beginning to feel for him. She shivered.
"No, I haven't licked any lampposts," she managed to answer, not being able to look him in the eye.
Therefore, she missed it. She missed when his eyes lit up with what could very well have been desire; she missed how he licked his lips, taking a deep calming breath. Since she was so ridiculously embarrassed by the whole situation, she even missed how his eyes softened and how he smiled a little, when he saw her chagrin.
"I myself never had the…pleasure," he continued, his voice faltering a little. "Not that I haven't…thought…about it."
Allira shivered again, trying desperately to keep her imagination at bay. She had always had trouble with it, but it was only since she met Alistair that it had become this unruly. Not that she had any experience of that kind, but his voice saying those words still summoned up images of them naked and… yes, indeed, troublesome imagination.
Did he imagine stuff like that? No, not the innocent templar boy-man. Why would he think about his fellow Grey Warden like that, when she was not only dirty and torn, but also an elf. It was ridiculous and she had only herself to blame, because she had stumbled into this discussion, head on. Damned imagination and damned curiosity. Have you ever, indeed. She should have played drinking games with Oghren instead, if she was so curious.
Still, she had stepped into this discussion, and now she had to end it somehow. Preferably without him ever finding out why she had asked in the first place. Keep him talking, yes, then she didn't have to.
"You never had the opportunity?"
His voice was more serious when he answered this time. Sincere. Just hearing him speak like that made her zone out for a moment. That voice…
"…they taught me to be a gentleman, especially in the presence of beautiful ladies such as yourself. That is not so bad, is it?"
Alliras head snapped up so quickly it was almost painful. Did he actually say that? Even more, did she imagine that hopeful tone as he finished with a question? He wanted her acceptance? Really?
Still, her brain was overruled. Some other part of her, a part that was a bit too honest for her own liking, answered for her.
"You think I'm beautiful?" she blurted out, cringing a little at how insecure she sounded.
For a moment their eyes met, and she felt that strange sensation of being hot and cold at the same time. His eyes were warm, like liquid amber, and when he looked at her, she felt as if she could never look away. He did really look at her like she was beautiful.
"Of course you are, and you know it. You are ravishing, resourceful and all those other things you'd probably hurt me for not saying."
Huh. Her mouth hang open by now. Alistair found her ravishing? He said it like it was so obvious, and as if she should know too.
She didn't. Something inside her suddenly felt ridiculously light, like sunshine was pouring into her soul. Her feet wanted to dance, the corners of her mouth pulled upwards without her even noticing. And yet again, that other part of her won the race against her brain, and answered for her. And breathlessly too.
"I would never hurt you," she said, her heart hammering strangely.
He didn't smile. His face was deadly serious and those eyes….she swallowed thickly, moistening her lips with her tongue nervously. Would he laugh at her now? He had never struck her as the cruel type, but this gravity made her fear the worst.
Her heart almost stopped beating altogether when he reached out and took her hand gently and very lightly in his.
"Nor I you," he said, and she didn't know if she had remembered to breath properly or if she had heard his voice so serious since Duncan died.
And they just stood there for a moment, her hand in his, their eyes locked with some kind of sizzling intensity that neither understood, but still didn't want to interrupt.
