A/N: New chapter for all! There is smut in this one again, once more it's blocked off, so if you don't want to see it, stop reading at the second break in the chapter. There's a little PDA before that break, but nothing major. The beginning of the chapter is DA plot related, while the rest of it is almost entirely original stuff. Hope everyone likes!
As always, thanks to all those who have favorited, followed, and read the story so far. I'm glad you're all enjoying it! But please review guys, pretty please? My muse is starving over here from lack of nourishment! And if I had more reviews, I'd probably be motivated to update faster! :) (Yes that's right, I'm bribing you. I hope it works.)
Disclaimer: As always, I do not own DA and its characters and plot, I do own Ayla and the rest of this story though.
Chapter 23: Her Knight
They had caught up with Morrigan and the others at a store called the Wonders of Thedas, which not only had all the herbs and supplies they could possibly need, but a wide variety of other things as well. The walls were lined with books, and there were toys, statues, maps, globes, and an incredible variety of other things spread throughout the large store.
Ayla had wandered around the store, taking in everything there, having never seen anything like it before. Alistair's mood seemed to have improved after they had arrived at the store as well, as he followed her around, pointing things out to her around the store and explaining some of their uses. She hadn't brought up his sister, and neither had he; they were both pretending it had never happened. If he wanted to talk about it, he would bring it up eventually, Ayla reasoned. She still wished she'd left the horrendous woman with a few injuries to pay for what she had done to him, though.
"Hey, we've got everything we need now," Aedan called from the front of the store. "Time to get going."
They came over to join him, as the others all gathered around as well. "All right," Aedan began, "the house where that Brother Genitivi lives is supposed to be just down the street from here, across from the Gnawed Noble Tavern." He paused, chewing his lip thoughtfully. "I'd like to go in the tavern and gather some more information about Loghain and the state of Ferelden, but I'd likely be recognized. Anyway –"
"I can go in instead," Leliana offered, interrupting whatever Aedan had been about to say next. "No one will recognize me."
Aedan frowned, looking her over before nodding abruptly. "I suppose it couldn't hurt. The rest of us will go to Brother Genitivi's and see what we can find. Let's go."
Everyone nodded in response, and the group made its way down the street between the wooden buildings. The rain had stopped, fortunately, but the road was still muddy and the sky still an overcast, slate grey. They reached a small, but homely looking wooden house across the street from a large stone building with a sign proclaiming it to be the Gnawed Noble Tavern. Leliana nodded to them before heading for the door and slipping inside. Aedan, meanwhile, turned and knocked on the door of the house across the way.
The door was opened by a young man with short, dark hair dressed in simple wool clothing, not at all the sort Ayla had been expecting. "Yes? What are you doing here?" he asked, suspicion in his voice.
"Are you . . . Brother Genitivi?" Uncertainty clouded Aedan's tone as he looked the young man over, clearly not expecting him either.
"No, I am Waylon, assistant to Brother Genitivi. This is his home." Waylon looked at their large group for a moment longer before waving them inside the house. They entered a long, plain room, mostly bare except for a large wooden table. There was a closed door on the right side of the room, as well as one at the very back of the room.
As they entered, Ayla frowned as a sudden and familiar scent washed over her nostrils; the rotting stench of death. She sniffed carefully to locate the scent as Aedan continued talking to the assistant, vaguely overhearing Aedan asking where the Brother was, followed by something about how the assistant had no idea, and that the search for the Urn might have led him into danger. Her eyes narrowed as she decided the scent was coming from the back room.
"Ayla? What is it?" Alistair's voice was low as he stepped to her side, obviously noticing that she hadn't been paying attention.
"I can smell a dead body," she whispered to him, nodding towards the door at the end of the room. "Back room." Just as she said that, Striker let out a low, rumbling growl, having sniffed his way over to the same door.
"Not to mention, our good friend 'Waylon' here is lying about something," Zevran added from her other side.
Before anyone could reply, Aedan had glanced over at the sound of his dog and noticed where he was. Cutting off his conversation with Waylon, he headed over to the door. "What's in this room?"
"What are you doing?" Waylon demanded abruptly, a note of panic entering his voice as he followed Aedan. "You're not supposed to go in there."
Ayla looked at the others and they all nodded, following silently after the two, readying themselves for a possible fight. "He's a mage, too," Alistair murmured in warning to the group, nodding at Waylon.
"Why not?" Aedan asked calmly, pausing at the door and facing Waylon. He saw them gathering behind the "assistant" but the carefully neutral expression on his face didn't waver. "Are you hiding something back there?"
The man shook his head in denial, attention still on Aedan. "I'm sorry but that room is not for guests. It's full of books and papers, and I'd rather they were not disturbed."
Aedan shrugged. "We won't mess them up. We'll be very careful, I promise, but there might be something back there that will tell us what we need to know."
"I said no," Waylon replied, voice rising in anger, still with an underlying note of panic. "Genitivi was a very private person."
Was? Ayla's eyebrows rose at the odd choice of words, as did Aedan's as his eyes narrowed, dropping any pretence of friendly or courteous behaviour. "You're hiding something. I want to know what it is." He reached for the handle of the door.
"No, don't touch that door!" Waylon shouted, as a burst of lightning suddenly shot from him. Morrigan and Wynne had been ready for it, both of them casting magical shields to block the rest of the party from the onslaught of energy. The rest of them were all drawing their weapons as Striker snarled and lunged for the man, but before anybody else could get there, Sten had lopped the man's head off with one massive swing of his greatsword, blood spraying across the room in an arc as the head flew into the wall and the body dropped to the floor.
Aedan sighed, wiping the blood off his face with his cloak as the rest of the party put their weapons away, and Striker dropped back to the floor, stub of a tail wagging. "Was that really necessary, Sten? We could have questioned him and got more information about Genitivi."
Sten shot him an impassive look, wiping off his sword before sheathing it as well. "The saarebas would not have told you anything useful."
"I am inclined to agree, actually," Zevran said cheerfully. "He did not strike me as the type that torture works well on."
"And just how would you know that?" Alistair asked wryly, eyeing the elf.
"Well, my friend, I am glad you asked. You see, I have had my fair share of experience in the past –"
"Let's just see what he was hiding, shall we?" Aedan interrupted, rolling his eyes as he reached for the door handle again.
"A dead body," Ayla supplied unnecessarily, as the door opened and the smell wafted out, far stronger than before. The others grimaced and wrinkled their noses as they could finally smell what she had all along. "Dead for quite some time," she managed, covering her nose and mouth as her stomach rolled from the initial blast.
"Probably Brother Genitivi, with our luck," Aedan groused as they entered the back room. Ayla followed, willing her stomach to stay still as she kept her hand over her face, waving off Alistair's look of concern.
The back room actually was full of books and papers, scattered on every available surface, including a desk next to a bed, making it appear as though the room was both a bedroom and a study. In the back corner was the body, unceremoniously dumped there to lie in a pool of its own blood. Although it had begun to decompose and rot already, they could make out enough of the features to see that it was a relatively young man.
"I believe this one is too young to be the scholar you were searching for," Wynne remarked after her study of the body. Ayla had stayed as far back from the body as she could, wondering how the old woman had been able to stand the stench. "He is likely the real assistant to Brother Genitivi."
Aedan nodded in agreement. "That mage out there was probably an impostor trying to lead astray anyone who came looking for the Brother. He was trying to feed me some story about how Genitivi had gone to Lake Calenhad before I noticed Striker."
"We still need to find out where the Brother went to," Alistair pointed out. "This makes it far more likely that he actually discovered something about the Urn."
"Good point," Aedan murmured, glancing around the room. "No need to lead someone astray unless there was something to find. We'll have to look through these papers, see if we can find anything. Zevran, Sten, do you think you could –" he nodded at the dead body.
"Hide the evidence?" the elf finished for him. "But of course, my friend. I am certain I can find a better place for this. Let us go find something to cover the bodies with, shall we?" he addressed the qunari as he left the room. Sten grunted in reply, following him.
A short while later, after the two had removed the body and the rest of them had started the search through the papers, Morrigan finally came across something in the scholar's notes. "I believe this is what you were searching for," she stated in a bored tone, waving a piece of parchment at Aedan.
Aedan took the parchment from her, scanning through it. "Yes, it sounds like he found a village called Haven in the mountains to the west. I have never heard of it, but he believed it was near a temple where Andraste's ashes had been lain to rest."
"How far away is it?" Alistair asked, as the rest of them gathered around Aedan.
Aedan laid out the parchment on top of the desk. It appeared to be a map of what Ayla assumed was Ferelden, as she could see Denerim and the Circle Tower and a few other places marked out on it. A circle had been drawn in the mountain ranges depicted on the western portion of the map, with an arrow pointing to it and 'Haven?' written by it. Several paragraphs had been scrawled in a hasty hand below the map. "Probably two to three weeks' journey from Denerim," Aedan replied thoughtfully after a more thorough study of the map. "Think it's worth looking into?"
Alistair looked suddenly uncomfortable that Aedan had diverted the decision to him, shrugging. "Well, as you said, he must have found something, or what would be the point to turning aside people who came looking for him? That mage might have been some sort of guardian for the Urn."
"It's very likely," Ayla agreed. "If that Urn is as powerful as you all say it is, there must be some sort of guardians devoted to protecting it. It would only make sense."
"Though 'tis an awfully long way to go on mere speculation," Morrigan pointed out sceptically. "Particularly when you have so much else to contend with."
"But the Arl would be a great asset with a large part of what we have to contend with," Aedan mused. "Which is Loghain and the civil war he's started. Teagan's a good man, but he does not yet have the clout Eamon does. I think that we have to try, now that it looks like this Brother Genitivi has actually stumbled onto something. Does everyone agree?"
Alistair nodded in response as Aedan's eyes fell on him, and one by one, the others offered their agreement as well, Morrigan more reluctantly, but she did, stating that if everyone else wanted to waste their time, she could care less.
Though Ayla did not know this Eamon or the politics of this world well, she did firmly believe that it was not a coincidence that somebody was trying to keep whatever Brother Genitivi had found out a secret. The others seemed sceptical that these ashes could truly be a miraculous cure for the Arl, but Ayla knew that the Goddess had often provided such miracles in Fallor; why couldn't they happen here? So she agreed without any reluctance.
"It's settled, then," Aedan stated, rolling up the parchment and tucking it into his pack. "Let's go find an inn for the night, then. We'll set off for this Haven place in the morning."
Later that night, they had all found an inn and were relaxing for the evening. It was a fairly non-descript place called the Red Lion, not overly fancy but not the sort of place frequented by bandits and cutthroats, either. Sten and Wynne had already retired to rooms for the night, taking Striker with them, but the rest had opted to stay up for a little while. Currently, Zevran and Leliana were dancing on one side of the tavern by the band of minstrels that was playing near a crowded dance floor, while Morrigan, Aedan, Alistair and Ayla had opted to sit in a booth and enjoy a few drinks.
Ayla had just gone up to the bar to get more ale for her and Alistair. He had told her in a low voice earlier that had made her shiver that Aedan had arranged for the two of them to have a room to themselves, as she had hoped. She could hardly wait until they retired for the night, but she didn't mind taking some time to relax and have fun with the others first. This was the first time they'd ever all been able to relax at a tavern together, and she knew from experience that such opportunities would be few and far between.
They had all abandoned their armor and most of their weapons for once as well, dressed in casual clothing in order to blend in better. She was wearing a pair of well-fitted leather leggings Leliana had picked up for her earlier when she'd bought the cloaks, insisting she needed something besides the loose cotton outfits she'd been wearing around camp, as well as a fitted green tunic with a low neckline. She was not wearing her swords for once, though she still had her daggers hidden on her person. She smiled to herself as she waited for the drinks, remembering the admiring look on Alistair's face when he'd seen her new outfit.
He looked quite good himself too, dressed in a black tunic with lacing at the top that he'd left somewhat open, allowing her a glimpse of that well-muscled chest of his she so admired, and tan trousers as well. Aedan wore a similar outfit, though his tunic was a pale blue, and Morrigan had flatly refused to wear anything but the outfit she'd left the Wilds with, ignoring the stares of the patrons when she'd come into the tavern with it on.
The barkeep finally set the mugs down in front of her, and she nodded her thanks as she paid before turning around, intending to head back to their table. She stopped as she saw one of the barmaids talking to Alistair. A particularly buxom blonde barmaid, with a good deal of cleavage showing that she was making sure he had every opportunity to look at as she smiled and tossed her hair at him.
Ayla scowled, her hands tightening around the mugs as sudden, sickening jealousy poured through her. Never mind that it looked as though Alistair wasn't even staring at the woman's cleavage, but rather smiling politely and conversing with her, or that he didn't have the lust on his face that he had when he'd looked at her earlier; she could not stop the fury and jealousy from boiling through her veins.
She'd never felt anything like it before; she wasn't accustomed to being jealous. She'd never actually wanted to keep a man to herself before, so it had never been an issue. She blinked as a sudden thought dashed through her like cold water. Did she really want to keep Alistair to herself, to possess him? That thought brought back the fear of what such a thing could mean, but before she could think about it more, the barmaid laid a hand on Alistair's arm. The jealous rage took her back over and she stalked over to the table.
"Leave," she informed the barmaid curtly. "You're in the way."
She could see Alistair's eyes snap to her in surprise out of the corner of her eye, and heard the muffled snort from Aedan behind her, but she ignored both as she glared fiercely at the barmaid, who had turned to look at her with surprise and annoyance. "Excuse me?" the woman demanded.
"You heard me," she snapped, jaw clenching. "No one here needs anything from you." When the barmaid didn't move immediately, looking as though she were about to protest, Ayla stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "Leave, now," the last came out in a snarl.
The barmaid's eyes widened with sudden fear, before she sniffed and said, "Fine, then." She left with a toss of her blonde hair, sashaying over to another table.
Ayla slapped the mugs down on the table, still feeling ridiculously angry as she sat down in the booth in her spot next to Alistair.
"What was that about?" he demanded incredulously. "Why were you so rude to her?"
Ayla turned the full force of her glare on him, and riding on the high of her fury and jealousy, blurted out the truth before she could think better of it. "Because she was flirting with you, that's why!"
Alistair's eyes widened in shock. "What? She was not! Was she?" He added the last bit uncertainly.
This was apparently too much for Aedan, who burst into outright laughter across the table, and even Morrigan started chuckling. "Yes, she . . . absolutely . . . was," Aedan choked out between bouts of laughter.
Ayla gaped at Alistair, feeling sudden embarrassment flood her. She'd been so utterly jealous, and he hadn't even noticed he was being flirted with? A sudden, beautiful smile spread across his face as he looked at her, one she remembered from the Fade when he'd been so happy about his dream, and it caused the fury and jealousy to come tumbling back. "What are you so bloody happy about? Did you want her to flirt with you?"
His smile spread wider, his eyes sparkling. "No. I'm happy because you were jealous, weren't you?" His tone was full of wonder.
Heat flooded her face as the embarrassment came back, drowning everything else out. "W-what? I was not jealous!"
Aedan was by now laughing so hard she was pretty sure he couldn't breathe, as he slapped the table with his amusement. Morrigan drawled, "Come now, Ayla, why else chase off the barmaid? Not that I blame you. I am not the type to share either, though why you would care about whether someone wanted that fool I'm sure I do not know."
Even Alistair was looking at her as though he didn't believe her, and she sighed, admitting defeat even as her face flamed. "Fine, maybe I was . . . a little jealous."
Alistair took her hand in his, squeezing it gently as he smiled warmly at her. "Ayla . . . you know how I feel about you. You have absolutely no need to be jealous. I have no interest in any woman but you. I'm yours." He said the last so simply and with such utter conviction that she could only stare at him.
A flood of emotions tumbled through her at his words. First and foremost was a feeling she could not put a name to, a bubbly, light warmth that spread through her chest. She thought she could feel relief and happiness as well. The one that she could best put a name to was the desire that burned through her veins on the heels of his words. It wasn't like she hadn't wanted him before, but now, she wanted him with a sudden ferocity that surprised even her.
She had no idea what to say in response, though; words were failing her completely. So she did the only thing she could think of, forgetting their audience completely; the only thing that she was good at. She acted.
She took his face in her hands and pulled his mouth down to hers. If she could not respond to him with words, she would show him her response. She started the kiss off slowly, gently, tenderly, trying to convey that bubbly warm feeling his words had given her. She took his bottom lip in her teeth and nibbled at it gently. She felt the moan that rumbled from him into her mouth, sparking flames all along her body.
His mouth suddenly opened beneath hers, allowing her to deepen the kiss, even as his hands drifted from her waist down to her bottom, lifting her easily into his lap. She went gladly, straddling his lap and pressing her body flush against his as she twined her arms around his neck, gripping his hair in one hand. She poured the full extent of her desire into her kiss now as she tried to show him the ferocity of the passion that had overtaken her.
He responded with equal passion as their mouths tangled in frantic desperation, as his hands roamed every inch of her body that he could reach. One burningly warm, calloused hand found its way underneath her tunic and slid over her bare skin until it found her breastband, kneading one breast gently. She groaned into his mouth as pulsating flames burst into life between her legs, and she ground herself on his lap, luxuriating in the feel of his growing hardness right where she most wanted it.
She felt his breath hitch as his other hand tightened around her bottom and his hips involuntarily bucked beneath her. They were both fast spiralling out of control, and had Ayla been more sober, she might have thought to stop, but right now she couldn't think of anything but him.
That was until Aedan cleared his throat loudly behind them. "We are trying to keep a low profile, remember? Everyone in here is staring at you two."
The words were like a dash of cold water on her enflamed senses, and Alistair must have felt the same; they jerked their heads back at the same time, and his hands immediately went to the safer territory of her waist while they both tried to recover their breath. Ayla chanced a quick glance around her; indeed, most of the people in the tavern that weren't dancing were staring at the two of them, some with amusement, others with disgust or horror, and some of the men were eyeing her with hunger. Alistair must have noticed that as well; his hands tightened reflexively on her waist as he frowned, before gently lifting her off and setting her down next to him.
Ayla glanced across the table at Aedan and Morrigan, feeling rather embarrassed that she had so totally forgotten where she was. They both looked rather amused, however. "Perhaps you two should go somewhere more quiet to finish your . . . ah . . . conversation?" Aedan suggested, a knowing grin spreading across his face.
Morrigan's lips were twitching as well, though she hid her amusement better. "I might understand your reluctance to share a little better now. Indeed, I did not think the Templar capable of such a public display."
"Oh, do shut up, you two," Ayla retorted, though there was little heat in it as she could not help but feel amused herself. Particularly when she chanced a look over at Alistair, who was so red now that even the tips of his ears were flaming. "Come on, Alistair, let's go. They probably want to head to their own room, soon, anyway, since Aedan does so enjoy getting Morrigan alone."
She cast a wickedly knowing grin at Aedan, who was now turning red himself, even as Morrigan chuckled. She grabbed Alistair's hand and dragged him out of the booth and towards the stairs leading up to their room, ignoring the whistles and catcalls that followed them, one of which she was pretty sure came from Zevran.
Alistair had never been as conflicted in all his life as he was when he followed Ayla to their room. Although he'd known this was coming, and indeed, had looked forward to it for the last couple of weeks, he was now suddenly and unbelievably nervous. He didn't understand it; it wasn't like he hadn't been intimate with her before, in various other ways. Sure, this was a little different in that they would finally be totally together, but they'd been naked in each other's arms before. Yet he felt as nervous as he had that very first time they were together on the riverbank.
On the other hand, though, after the way she'd kissed him down in the tavern, he wanted her more than he'd ever believed possible. He had been almost overcome with joy at the knowledge that she'd actually been jealous over him, and he couldn't help but feel there was something different about that kiss. It had been almost – dare he say it – loving – before they'd both completely lost control and forgot entirely where they were. Which had added embarrassed and ashamed to the list of emotions he was currently feeling, and his arousal had dampened fairly quickly. Now he wasn't sure just what to do.
Ayla reached the room and opened it using the key Aedan had provided them with, before tugging him inside and closing the door behind them, locking it and tossing the key on the table just inside the door. It was a nice room, with a fireplace merrily crackling against one wall, a large, comfortable looking bed with a red bedspread across from it, the well-carved table by the door, and a vanity against another wall, while there was a red screen portioning off one corner of the room. Candles were lit and placed on the surfaces around the room as well.
"Now, where were we?" Ayla asked brightly, turning to look at him with desire still flashing in those green eyes of hers.
"Um, Ayla, I . . . " he began uncertainly, cursing himself for the nervousness he still felt.
"What's the matter?" She looked him over, brows drawing together in concern. "Have you changed your mind?"
"No, no," he said hastily. "Maker, no. I've - I've never done this before, you know that. And I do want it to be with you, while we have the chance. I'm just . . ."
"Nervous?" she guessed, and he nodded miserably in response. "Don't be. There's nothing to be nervous about." She smiled at him reassuringly. "We're just enjoying our time alone together, remember? Without an audience, this time."
He flushed, feeling embarrassed and ashamed all over again. "About that, Ayla, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me –"
"Stop." She held up a hand to halt him. "You have nothing to apologize for; if anything, that was my fault. But there's nothing wrong with us desiring one another, and letting it get a little out of hand when we both had a little too much to drink. It's nothing to be ashamed of; it didn't get completely out of hand. Besides," she added, a smile spreading across her face, "I don't regret it, do you?"
Did he regret it? He tried to think of it without the voice of the Revered Mother ringing in his head. He was quite certain that her jealousy and her kiss meant that, even if she couldn't say it, she was coming to love him. And given the spirit of that kiss, how could he ever regret it? Besides, it wasn't as though he'd never seen other people in intimate embraces in public; he had just never thought he'd be involved in one. Certainly, it was the most memorable and enjoyable experience he'd ever had in a tavern, if he left out the awkwardness afterward. He'd almost lost her, he reminded himself; how could he ever regret any moment in her arms after that? "No," he shook his head, smiling down at her. "I don't."
"Good." She closed the distance between them. "Kiss me again, then, and we'll go from there. No pressure, all right? Let's just enjoy the privacy."
As if he needed another reminder of why he loved her, he thought, warmed by her generous understanding all over again. He reached out for her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close as he dipped his head and kissed her gently, losing himself in the taste and feel of her soft lips. He felt her arms wrap around his neck and her body pressed tightly against his, the feel of her warm curves sending fire racing through him as he began to forget why he'd been nervous.
Remembering what she'd done earlier, he nipped at her bottom lip and she gasped, opening her mouth to him as he delved his tongue inside, sweeping it through her sweet mouth. As it had happened down in the tavern, the kiss quickly took on a life of its own as he felt as though he couldn't get enough of her. As had happened so many times before with her, his nervousness washed completely away in the wake of his blazing desire for her. Without even realizing it, he'd scooped her up and her legs had hooked around his waist. He squeezed that delightfully round rear of hers that he found he enjoyed more and more, and she gasped into his mouth, rocking her hips against him.
He pulled his mouth away from hers, trying to catch his breath as arousal rocketed through him straight to his groin. She had a hand clutched in his hair, which she used to pull his head to the side and bit down on the juncture of his neck and shoulder. "Ayla," he moaned as a white-hot jolt of lust made him now painfully hard as she began to suck and bite her way along his neck.
He suddenly wanted both of their clothes off badly, was his only coherent thought as he stumbled towards the bed, never letting go of her. He let her down gently, but she didn't release her grip on him, using the strength of her legs and arms to pull him down on top of her. "Hold on a minute," he gasped, bracing himself with his arms and trying to ignore just how right it felt to be pressing her down into a soft bed. "Clothes need to come off, remember?"
She pulled her head back and let go of him, looking up at him with eyes blazing with lust. "Take them off fast," she ordered him breathlessly, reaching to take off her tunic.
He stood up and quickly obeyed, undressing quite possibly the fastest he ever had in his life, as she followed suit, clothes flying around the room. When they were both undressed, he stopped and stared at her, drinking in the sight of her. He'd never gotten to see her so fully, since it was usually in the woods after dark when they had been together, and now he could see every glorious inch of her in the light of the candles and the fire. She was studying him with equal hunger, he noticed suddenly as his eyes landed on her face, which caused him to blush. Her eyes suddenly snapped up to him.
"You said that you're mine, right?" He nodded wordlessly; there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that he was hers, heart, soul, and body. He was surprised by the lust that flashed in her eyes when he nodded. "Then show me."
He didn't need to be told twice; he joined her on the bed, leaning his weight on his arms as he settled between her legs and nipped her neck as she had done to his. Her arms and legs wrapped around him again and she arched up in to him, causing him to shudder and moan as his arousal brushed against her wet heat. He pulled her back a little so he could kiss and lick his way down to her breasts; he wanted to taste them again.
He found a nipple and took it in his mouth, sucking at first gently and then a little harder. She gasped and tipped her head back, allowing him better access. He began to play with her other breast with one hand, at first kneading, then pinching her nipple and flicking it as he began to alternate between sucking and nipping the other one. Maker, he loved the noises she made, he thought hazily as she clutched at his hair. She rubbed herself against him again, and he could feel how hot and wet she was, causing him to buck against her. He was fast losing control, he realized; this was the part where they had always had to stop or reach their completion in other ways, only, he didn't have to stop this time, did he?
She yanked his head back so she could look him in the eyes; she looked as dazed as he felt. "Please, Alistair, now," she begged. "I want you –" she gasped again as he tugged at her nipple, moaning out, "Only you."
Her eyes widened as she seemed to realize what it was she'd just said; but Alistair gave her no time to think about it, swooping down to kiss her fiercely, desperately. He couldn't believe the surge of lust that had raced through him when she'd said that; he suddenly realized why she'd reacted with such lust when he'd said he was hers. Only you raced through his mind as he held her close with one arm, kissing her with all the desire and love he felt for her. She responded just as fiercely, until he couldn't breathe again and pulled his mouth away, burying his face in the crook of her neck and trying to catch his breath.
Her legs unwrapped from him and his whole body jerked when he felt her hand wrap around his length. He lifted his head, staring at her with wide eyes, trying not to lose all control right then and there. "Are you ready?" she asked him huskily. He could only nod; he didn't want to wait anymore, he wasn't sure he even could.
Her legs fell apart as she guided him to her entrance and let go once the tip of his erection was seated in her wet heat. He shuddered just from the feel, trying to hold back from what all his base instincts were screaming at him to do, which was to bury himself in her in one quick thrust, but he didn't want to hurt her. As strong as she was, she was still a lot smaller than him.
"Don't hold back, Alistair," she gasped, arching her hips up so that she slid a little further along his length. "You won't hurt me – and I like it when you lose control . . ."
Almost before she'd finished her words, he thrust himself fully in her, throwing his head back with a growl as he felt her warmth close around him. She gave a sharp cry, her arms clutching at him as their hips met. He'd thought that he had an idea of how this felt, given all the other things they'd done together, but he had never in his wildest dreams imagined it feeling as incredible as this did. The sensation of completion, of oneness, of utter rightness as her body enveloped him was unbelievable.
He'd frozen in place, just to try to take in the feeling, but she tugged on his hair. "Don't stop now!"
He looked down at her, locking eyes with her, his breath leaving him at the heat in her gaze as he slowly pulled back, then thrust forward again. He loved the sound that dropped from her lips as she rose up to meet him. "Ayla – I'm yours – in every way, now and always," he groaned.
Her eyes flared and she pressed her lips to his shoulder, kissing and biting her way across his chest as they moved together. "Faster," she said breathlessly, scraping her nails across his back. "Don't hold back . . . please . . ."
So he didn't. He let go of any semblance of control or discipline, and let his instincts take over, thrusting in and out of her, harder and faster. She wrapped her legs around him again and they began to crash together. Fire was burning in his blood and he could feel that winding pressure that meant he would hit his release soon, even as he felt her tightening around him.
She was gasping and shuddering as they moved, and he knew she was as close as he was. No matter how many times he brought her pleasure, he still couldn't believe that he was the one that was doing it; his own arousal spiralled higher at the thought even as hers did. He leaned his head down and closed his mouth around her breast again, sucking hard; she let out a keening cry of his name as he did so, her body convulsing around him as she arched sharply against him. Hearing his name on her lips and seeing the glow in her eyes as her body relaxed brought his own desire crashing over him; a few more erratic thrusts and he spilled inside her, shuddering, feeling as though he'd exploded, crying out her name in turn as he buried his face in her neck.
He just barely had the presence of mind not to collapse on top of her; instead, he rolled to the side, bringing her with him to lay on his chest, not letting go of her for a second.
He didn't know how long they both laid there, catching their breath as he stroked her soft skin, running his hands over every bit of her he could touch. He would never get enough of feeling her; he would never be able to stop touching her. Her hands drifted over him as well, tracing patterns over his torso, and she occasionally would run her foot up and down his leg.
"You know," he said at last, when he'd finally recovered enough brainpower to speak, "according to all the sisters at the monastery, I should have been struck by lightning by now."
She looked up at him, her eyes lighting with amusement. "Are you so sure you weren't struck by lightning?"
He grinned. "Well, if that's what it feels like, it's hardly an effective deterrent, now is it? In fact, I think I want it to happen as often as possible."
She smiled in response, looking suddenly mischievous. "As often as possible? Is that so?"
"If you'll allow it, of course," he amended, squeezing her waist.
"Oh, I think you might be able to persuade me," she teased lightly, running her hand up and down his chest. "So, no regrets, then?"
"Maker, no," he answered, surprised that she'd even asked that, or that there had been a touch of vulnerability in her eyes when she had. "No, it was . . . amazing," he told her, bringing her up to press a gentle kiss on her lips. "Beyond anything I'd imagined."
"Good," she murmured in response, even as a flush passed over her face. "I'm glad to hear it." She kissed him back, a long, lingering kiss that had arousal running through his veins again. "Want to get struck by lightning again?"
"So much," he growled, kissing her hard before rolling her underneath him. She squealed in surprise before laughing, the sound cascading through him, making him smile before he bent his head to kiss her again. He spent the rest of the night in her arms, exactly where he belonged.