Chapter 2

Despite the eagerness to consume, Varric and Ellana were hampered by the realization that their banter was leading somewhere fruitful for the first time. With such knowledge burdening their awareness, the climb to the Inquisitor’s tower chambers was languid. Both were ready to draw this encounter out to whatever length they could. Each step hesitated on the incline.

Varric led the way up the stairwell, moving backward while Ellana pursued. The stagger of steps kept their gazes upon the other with a maintained intensity. Heated looks devolved into frantic expressions of affection, and the pair frequently paused their ascent to taste and touch one another. Hands wound through hair, over shoulders, around backs, and against waists, exploring lines of bodies that were so frequently near but never accessible.

The door to the tower opened barely before slamming closed again. The gentlemanly deference Varric employed in opening the gateway for the elf was rapidly tossed aside as his urges overcame his resistances. Ellana had barely crossed the threshold ere he had placed one firm hand against the small of her back to advance her movement to the bed.

“Forgive my impudence,” he smirked devilishly, still encouraging her forward.

She mirrored his expression. “I’ve yet to see you act in such a way that would warrant begging forgiveness.”

“Well, I’m not usually one to beg,” he admitted, “But Maker, you certainly help me understand the men who do.”

His praises coaxed a giggle that emboldened the already overconfident dwarf. With the flirtatious banter again bandying between them, the rogue felt the freedom of liberty and was more at ease within this new private space. He followed the Inquisitor as he directed her path. At the foot of her bed, she turned to face the companion who had always seemed just beyond reach. And yet here he was.

His hands quickly reached for her slender hips and spoke his commands for him. She was seated at his direction. Their tongues entwined, and Varric found his way to stand once more pressed against the lady, nestling between her legs which she shifted to allow him closer. As their kisses pitched more fervent, the heat within each belly sparked and sizzled by the nearness of the other. Desire burned through them both, aching and screaming for attention. Hearts pounding, hands roamed and explored freely.

The broadness of the dwarf’s build was now suddenly overwhelming the elf. She could feel the weight behind his breadth. It was at this moment that Ellana realized how completely unfamiliar she was with his particular type of shape. Moderately experienced in the arts of intimacy, none of those encounters had been with a man quite like this. This sudden newness filled the Inquisitor with bubbling nervousness, not unlike the early days of their battle for peace; it was thrilling and terrifying all at the same time.

They allowed their kisses to abate while they breathed a moment together. He observed her with something like pride upon his countenance in this silence. Opposite his stature, this woman was tall, lean, and delicate like the halla. The parallel did not stop at grace, though. Like the creature of her native peoples, she was equally singular when her endurance or strength were considered. She was dainty and fragile in appearance only; it was in considerable dichotomy against her fierce and commanding presence. When the chaos had really begun to fight back, he began to find her fiercely intimidating in those moments as she stood up for what was right. She was selfless; he was smitten. He began to wonder all the ways he could assault her in private, knowing her ability to withstand and return the assailment. He was eager to discover and test the limits of her strength and will.

He noticed that her eyes, wide and angular, were scanning his limbs more closely than ever before. Following a path plotted by her gaze, Ellana’s long fingers traced from his wrists and along his arms. They explored over the brawn across his sternum and around his neck. She perused his shoulder-blades’ scarred and battle-worn skin before finding her way back around to just below the pendant he always wore. She slowly wound a trail through the curls upon his chest, marveling at the coarse yet soft fibers. He could not help but notice her expression. He additionally could not help but comment on it.

“I am not partial to the facial hair fashion of my people, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a true-built dwarf in every other respect.”

She giggled again and thoughtfully dropped her head to the side while still working her fingertips across the skin and hair exposed from his tunic. Her fingers traced the line of the fabric and slipped just beneath the edge to lightly touch the warmth emanating within. She paused when a wicked thought occurred to give her the kind of reply reminiscent of their earlier banter.

“And how exactly are dwarven men built?”

The question was punctuated by an adjustment in her position. Her thighs pressed close in on the hips that stood between them, and she rocked her own hips in resistance to the growing firmness below his belly. He uttered a staggering groan, feeling how the heat from her arousal was palpable through all their layers of attire.

Varric took her wrists in hand and made meaningful eye contact with his words. “You shall find out very soon.”

He gave one firm pull, launching his momentum forward with his hips, before releasing her arms only to adjust his grip around her waist. She was so small; he would have worried about breaking her if he hadn’t seen how she stood up against dragons and demons alike. His hands, massive compared to every part of her, were able to pin her to his whims quite perfectly. Utilizing his strength and scale to his advantage, the dwarf could easily overpower the elf if he so chose and if she so allowed. Before the night was over, these dynamics would be realized.

His threat of “soon” was acknowledged. Ellana found herself led further back along the bed as the rogue advanced and removed himself from the ground. Back enough to be in a full recline, the mage surrendered to the strength above her. She felt the warmth against her inner thigh as he pressed down upon her, his needs growing in a very tangible sense.

“Varric—” she attempted again.

“No, no, no,” he scolded quietly. “That’s the same tone as before. I told you I wanted a different tone next time you put my name on your tongue.”

She smiled at the way his words spilled so casually and entrancing. His tone, deep and warm, was laced with poison which filled her with lust. She spoke again before realizing what she had said.

“Then put something else on my tongue.”

Her sudden boldness surprised them both. He chuckled heartily and uttered a slight scoff, sitting back on his heel to give him a fuller observance of the Inquisitor laid out before him. Her embarrassment was instant, and the color which overtook her expression fed his longing for her. Still laughing quietly, he cocked his head to the side as he peered down at her.

“Well, shit,” he mused. “If that’s how you’d like it, I am only happy to oblige, my lady.”

He had to admit that having this perspective above her was a pleasant change. He knew how capable she was, and to have her stretched before him in all the trappings of vulnerability was a treat he had never anticipated.

Rather than give him additional time to grandstand or make her feel more uneasy for her sudden outburst, Ellana sat upright and used a nervous hand to hide the smile she wore. Instantly, he took her hand away with his own and demanded her taste again. His grip on her wrist was momentary, and when his hand moved to cradle her neck and shoulder, her own fell to rest where his breeches pulled tight in the front. The growl from his throat came forth again, and she felt him shudder under her hand.

Onto the bed, they collapsed in moans and kisses. This time, however, the Inquisitor found the dominant position. Hovering on her knees while one hand began to evaluate what he had promised she would soon discover, the elf gasped, and the dwarf felt her hand hesitate and explore in turn. The rogue chased a path of kisses along her chin and jaw to the contour of her neck. The scratch of his stubble sent shivers down her spine while she made silent calculations about what she was discovering and just how different he was from any previous lover she had taken.

“I told you,” he breathed against her throat. “Stronger things. Sturdy—”

“To the last,” she finished, fingers finding grip against his bulge.

He did not bother to try to find words again. Varric’s passion rumbled at the back of his throat and expelled against her torrid flesh. With his help, it was a short time before Ellana found egress into the released band of his coverings. She found her fingers, albeit far-reaching, incapable of completely encircling the anatomy he hid beneath his clothes. Her motions, hesitations, and the staccato of her initial gestures gave him reason to murmur a breathy laugh.

“I presume my lady has not had the unique pleasure of my kind before.”

“This is ... new to me, yes,” she admitted with a hint of bashful innocence.

The color from her cheeks was spreading outward to the tips of her ears. Varric admired the sincerity of her expressions and pulled her in for a collection of reassurances and additional endearments. Comforted, Ellana moved from his lips, and she kissed the firm squareness of his jaw and collar, mimicking the way he poured over her not long ago. Her tongue caressed and teased the flesh of his neck and chest as she peppered affection over the rogue; he leaned back against the headboard, utterly enraptured. Lower, she sunk against his body as her mouth made its way to where her hand had settled.

Pulling the edge of his waistband down, Ellana released the weapon of his affection with wonderment. She was crouched on all fours and eyed him from below. Through her lashes, she stared upward from her position. The Inquisitor used incredibly intentional deportment to give the rogue a sight that he could not forget if he ever dared to try. The silhouette of her body, gently sloping and pleasantly smooth, was still something he could appreciate even through the trappings of the leathers she wore when mingling around the keep.

“Careful, your excellency,” he warned. “I might enjoy seeing you this way a little too much.”

She felt exactly how he truly enjoyed her placement; he quivered in her grip. She wondered if he knew that it was equally her pleasure as well. Both hands were at work, caressing and enticing him to give her sounds of satisfaction. The elf should have supposed that the stocky structure of her companion was a common trait to his entire being, yet she still found herself amazed at the way his proportions continued in such perfection. He was, indeed, larger than life in every aspect of himself.

With slow, deliberate movements, the warmth of her tongue joined the dance she had begun with her fingers. She began, maintaining devout eye contact, to wet his phallus from base to tip. He groaned, lifting his hips in rhythmic, rocking rolls. The added intensity of her stare only heightened the pleasure he could gain from her attentions.

“Shiiiit,” came the drawn-out whisper. And that was enough for Ellana to advance her tactics.

Without warning, the elf finished one stroke of her tongue along the lower edge of her partner’s shaft by taking the head into her mouth and pushing down as far as she was able. The back of her throat opened to accept him nearly entirely. The sudden change caused him a moment of such intense ecstasy that he was forced to cry aloud in surprise and reach desperately for her. His fingers caught in her hair and held firm though passive. She was determining the thrust; he was enjoying her control.

Ellana teased with her tongue, pulling, moaning, and sighing around his rigidity. Varric’s usual skill for wit was overcome with his senses driven mad by her pulses and purrs. He felt himself losing his touch within the broader moment, becoming consumed entirely by his pleasure at her persistence. This situation would have to change. He wanted to be in charge again. He was determined to play powerful with his prize and eased her into a slower pace, uttering encouragements and praises of her prowess.