Day 28 – Race Bending

A/N: This is the DA universe, so I decided to interpret this prompt a little differently. In this story, Megan is a dwarf (Maret Aeducan) and Nate a Dalish elf called Tanael. And, yeah, I'm perfectly aware that this would have been a great opportunity to explore several topics of great socio-political importance. But somehow, it ended up as mostly smut. No idea how that happened ;)

The hurlock went down with a satisfying thud, blood spouting from its many wounds, spattering Carver's hands and face. He spun around on his heels to check on Tanael. He needn't have worried, though. The second hurlock was down as well, an arrow protruding from his left eye. The elf danced back with a triumphant laugh.

Maret was nowhere to be seen. The last thing he remembered was her chasing a pack of genlocks down a tunnel with Nug, her trusted mabari, at her side. There was no reason to worry about her. The Commander knew how to take care of herself and so did Nug.

"You okay?" Carver sheathed his sword in one smooth move.

"Fine." Before he knew what was happening, Tanael was right before him, grabbing him by his jerkin and pushing him back against the wall. "More than fine."

Hard lips were suddenly on his in a wild, feral kiss and, to his eternal surprise, Carver found himself kissing the other man back with equal fervour. It lasted only moments and, when Tanael pulled back, he shook his head in confusion. "What-"

"Oh, come on, Carver." Tanael's grey eyes were half-closed. "All those smouldering gazes in my direction lately? Don't you think it's about time you admitted it?"

"Admitted what?" Carver was breathing hard. "There's nothing to admit. I like women. I like Maret."

There was a sparkle of amusement in Tanael's gaze. "Everyone likes Maret. Doesn't mean you can't like me, too. I wouldn't mind if you were interested, and I'm sure neither would she." He leaned in and traced Carver's lower lip teasingly with his tongue. "Your body certainly seems to be on board with the idea."

Carver followed his gaze down to where his obvious arousal was pressed hard against the elf's thigh. And there could be no doubt that Tanael was equally affected.

He shrugged. "Heat of the battle. It happens."

Tanael stepped back, raising an eyebrow, but there was no trace of anger on his handsome, tattooed face. "You tell yourself that."

Carver opened his mouth, unsure of what to say, but Tanael stopped him with a gesture. "It's all right. I understand if you'd rather not act upon your feelings."

"That's not-" He couldn't even explain why Tanael's words made him so angry, and there was no time to think about it further.

"Come on!" Maret was back, just as blood-spattered as they were, but with a bright smile on her sweet round face. "We need to go further down. My Warden senses are going wild. If I'm not very much mistaken, there's a broodmother here."

"Commander, I-" Tanael had gone pale. "You know I'd follow you to the Black City itself, but those pits-"

"It's all right." Maret's features softened. "I know it's hard on you elves. You don't have to go further down with us. But what will you do in the meantime?"

"I have a thing or two to settle with a bandit leader in the Wending Wood." Tanael's face had darkened. "Now's as good a time as any."

"Are you sure?" Carver felt a flash of unease. "It seems unwise to go alone."

"I'll be fine." Tanael shrugged. "It will hardly be more dangerous than facing a broodmother."

"True." Maret grinned. "Let's get on our way, then. We'll meet you at the old stone bridge, ten days from now. Go with the blessings of the Ancestors, Tanael. And may your Creators keep you safe on the surface."

When they said good-bye, Carver caught the elf's gaze. This was important, even though he wasn't sure why. "If anything happens to you, I'll find you. I promise."

Tanael's answering smile stayed with him all through the ensuing battle against the broodmother.

They made it back to the surface in time for their rendezvous but, when they arrived at their appointed meeting spot, Tanael wasn't there. They waited for more than a day, but in vain. When the third morning dawned, Carver approached Maret. He didn't even know why he felt so troubled, and he was fumbling for words to explain his concern.

She just nodded, flashing him a quick smile. "Off you go. I can see you're worried sick about him, and I can't keep up with your long legs. I'll catch up with you soon enough. Nug should have no problem following your tracks."

Without further hesitation, he was on his way.

He found Tanael in a small clearing in the middle of the Wending Wood. The wound on his arm had already turned an angry red, and his forehead was clammy, the smooth skin so pale that the fine lines of his vallaslin seemed far more prominent than usual. Carver knelt down at his side with a worried look. "You need help."

"I do." Even through the haze of pain, Tanael smiled up at him. "You're alive."

"And so are you. Just about." Carefully, he placed a poultice on the wound and dug in his satchel for an elfroot potion. Tanael drained the vial he handed him with shaking hands and fell asleep almost immediately. Propped up next to him against the trunk of a tree, Carver allowed himself to rest for a while.

When Tanael opened his eyes in the morning, they were clear, and he looked much healthier. "Thank you. Without you, I'm not sure I would have made it."

Once again, Carver hesitated, unsure of what to say, but he was spared an answer as Tanael took hold of his hand and pulled him down into a kiss. A very different kiss this time, much less aggressive, gentle and sweet.

The forest was quiet around them, the first rays of sun speckling the mossy floor next to them, warming the skin on his arms and neck. And Tanael was warm and alive under him, all hard lines and sharp angles, yet yielding against him in a blatant invitation he simply couldn't resist. The sudden spike of want left him nearly breathless.

Over and over again their lips found each other, each kiss deeper and more passionate than the last. The elf made no attempt to rid them of their clothes, but it was easy enough to feel each other's response through the thin leather they were wearing, easy enough to align themselves for maximum friction, easy enough to taste each other's skin and breathe each other's scent. Tanael smelled of herbs and wood smoke, of the forest and the earth surrounding them, musky and intoxicating. And his mouth was eager and skilled against Carver's bare neck.

They moved in an unconscious rhythm, picking up speed as they neared their completion, both of them panting heavily by the time they finished, almost at the same time, spilling inside their clothes without shame or embarrassment.

"Carver…" Tanael's voice was hoarse and shaky when they both stilled. "You're here. You came for me."

"I said I would. And Maret's not far behind." Carver pulled back, examining the bandage on the elf's arm with a worried frown. "Tell me what happened."

"The bandits were easily dealt with, but then I ran into a pack of crazed wolves." Tanael flinched in pain as the poultice came off. The wound looked much better, though. "I could have dealt with them on my own, but-" He broke off. "No matter. I'm glad you're here."

"So am I." Carver sat up, grimacing when he felt his messed-up clothes sticking to his belly. "Come on. Maret will be here soon. We both need a bath, and there's a little stream nearby."

Tanael followed willingly. Down at the stream, they quickly got rid of their clothes and waded into the shallow water. Carver found a flat boulder on the bank where he could sit comfortably, his legs dangling into the water.

"Come. I can help you with your hair." He glanced shyly at Tanael's naked body.

Compared to his own muscular build, the elf looked almost fragile, but there wasn't an ounce of fat on his lean body and Carver knew from experience how strong he was. Tanael complied willingly, arranging himself between Carver's thighs with his back to the young man, sighing with pleasure when Carver ran a hand through his hair and accidentally touched the tip of his right ear. Intrigued, Carver touched him there again, which drew a longer sigh from his lips.

Carver forced himself to focus on soaping the long black strands but, when he'd finished, his hand trailed down Tanael's lithe body as if it had a will of its own, until his fist closed around the elf's half-hard cock. Tanael arched back against him, his wet body pressed hard against Carver, his breath coming in quick, hard gasps.

"Oh, Ancestors, I'm so sorry. Please don't mind me." Carver's head flew up at the sound of Maret's voice. She was there, on the other side of the stream, staring at them with big round eyes, shock and arousal warring on her features. "I didn't mean to disturb you. I'll just-"

"Maret. It's fine. No need for you to leave." Tanael was still breathing hard, and his voice sounded even more hoarse than usual, but he seemed perfectly at ease in Carver's arms.

"What do you mean?" Maret was blushing, but she made no move to leave.

Carver inhaled sharply. Judging from their demeanour, there seemed to be some truth to the rumours that Tanael had been sleeping with the Commander. He didn't really know how he himself felt about her staying, though. Sure, she was cute and he'd admired her for the longest time, but-

"Just come in." Tanael seemed a lot less worried. "I'm sure you'd enjoy a bath as well."

For a heartbeat, it seemed as if Maret would speak again, but then her lips set in a determined line and she began taking off her leather armour. Carver watched, unable to take his eyes off her as she threw off her shirt, then got out of her tight leather pants. She was short, of course, but her body was trim and taut, and the wide curve of her hips perfectly balanced out her full breasts. Tanael watched her just as eagerly, pressing his cock firmly into Carver's hand. He was fully hard by now, and so was Carver.

When Maret made her way through the water over to them and melted into the elf's arms, Carver could no longer hold back the moan escaping from his throat. Not even in his wildest dreams could he ever have imagined a scenario like this; both of them naked in his arms, naked and more than willing. He knew he would kill anyone who interrupted them now.

"Damn crazy elf," Carver muttered, his voice thick with arousal. "You're both crazy."

He couldn't even say how they had ended up like this, in a woodcutter's shack, with Nug guarding the door outside. But here they were, him leaning against the rough wooden planks and Maret and Tanael on their knees before him; the elf's eager lips wrapped around his cock. It had all been a whirlwind of hot and feverish caresses, lingering kisses and urgent touches. He dimly remembered getting out of the water at some point and finding their clothes, only to look for a quiet place where they could continue their frenzied love-making.

But even now, almost two days later, he didn't think he'd ever get enough of the sight in front of his eyes: Tanael's lips stretching around him; those gorgeous cheekbones even more pronounced as he hollowed his cheeks; long strands of black hair tangled around Carver's hands; clear grey eyes looking up at him with such desire, such need; and Maret's small hand wrapped around the elf's long, slim cock, stroking him roughly. It was enough to make a man lose his mind.

Tanael was far more skilled and experienced than he'd ever guessed at, though perhaps that shouldn't have been a surprise. For all their serene demeanour, most elves he knew were passionate and fiery, and, of course, Tanael's long graceful hands were as clever in bed as they were with a bow and arrows. By comparison, Carver felt clumsy and clueless, and he had a feeling so did Maret. But Tanael was patient and took his time teaching him, teaching them both.

Now was not the time for such considerations, though, not with the way Tanael's tongue was flicking against his aching flesh, sending him into a rapidly ascending spiral of pleasure. He was close already, so close, his fist tightening in the elf's hair, yanking far too hard really, but Tanael gave no sign of anything but the sincerest pleasure. Closing his eyes, Carver abandoned all pretence of control and came hard, shaking with the force of it, a rough groan torn from his lips.

His knees felt weak, so he allowed himself to sink down onto the floor, embracing them both and pulling Tanael into a long, deep kiss. He could taste himself on the other man's tongue, hot and salty. Maret laughed breathlessly and kept stroking Tanael, rough and fast, until the elf spilled in her hands with a ragged groan. Together, they teamed up on Maret, sucking and licking at her until she cried out sharply, slumping against them both, boneless and spent

"Damn it." Tanael was breathing heavily. "The two of you will be the death of me." His lips were hot against Carver's ear. "Tonight, I want you inside me."

Maret was close enough to hear him and she mewled like a kitten at his words. Carver's stomach lurched in apprehension at the elf's words but, at the same time, his cock twitched eagerly, despite their earlier exertions. Tanael chuckled, making Carver wonder if he'd felt both reactions.

"Don't worry. You are going to like it." There was an absolute conviction in Tanael's tone. "And so am I."

"What about me?" Maret tossed back her braids, pouting adorably.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll find a way to make you happy too." Tanael was positively purring. "Don't you think, Carver?"