Chapter 47: Panic and Planning

We finally, reluctantly climbed out of the now-cool water and got dressed, teasing each other and laughing the whole time. When we finally made it out of the bathing room, a passing servant pointed us to a small private dining room that Aedan had apparently rented after the brawl fiasco from the night before. Everyone had cleaned up, and we had a wonderful dinner just talking and laughing. Everyone avoided talking business, and it felt like a wonderful preview of what it might be like when the blight was over.

Back in our room, Alistair swallowed the noxious pinch of powder from the vial Zevran had given me; we knew that having a child would be difficult, given my possible birth control and his being a Grey Warden, but we decided that caution was probably for the best. It still seemed weird to me that birth control was something you gave to a man, not a woman. To my surprise, Alistair expressed incredible longing to have a family of his own, some day; I supposed, given his upbringing, it wasn't so strange. Growing up without one made the urge to have a family that much greater, as I could testify to from personal experience.

We made slow sweet love again before passing out, limbs intertwined; somehow I thought that having been with him my desire would be less immediate, less desperate, but if anything I wanted him more than I had before. We woke in the night and reached for each other again; my last thought before sleep claimed me the second time was that I was going to have to get good at making healing potions if we kept up at the same rate much longer.

I woke early in the morning, to find Alistair still deeply asleep, his beautiful face relaxed as he snored softly. I was starving; I slid out of bed, carefully and as quietly as I could manage, and slipped on a loose-fitting linen dress from the pile of clothes in the corner. I went down to the main room to find us something for breakfast. My hair was tousled, my dress wrinkled from hours on the cold stone floor, but I was too sleepy to care, and it was early enough that I might not run into anyone, anyway. I crept into the kitchen, loading up a tray with bread, cheese, and dried fruit, tossing a couple of strips of jerky on top for Alistair. I giggled as I remembered him declaring, at supper the night before, that he wanted 'meat with every meal'. Zevran made a smart comment about offering him some meat, and everyone howled as he blushed scarlet and stammered. I finally distracted the poor boy with a kiss, earning a grin from Aedan, and a wink from Zevran. The memory made me smile.

I passed Leliana in the hall on the way back to the room I shared with Alistair, and she teased me about my hair, making me stop long enough for her to halfway tame it to lay straight down my back, and then I hustled along, chilly in the cold morning air, until I reached the door. I balanced the tray with one hand, awkwardly, almost dropping it as I grabbed for the door handle. Pushing my way inside, I stabilised the tray and deposited it on a table just inside the door, twisting to pull the door shut and lock it.

As I turned back, I gasped as Alistair (who I expected to still be in bed, snoring peacefully) grabbed my arms, pulling me to him, crushing me into his embrace. And suddenly, his hands were in my hair, his lips bruising mine, his tongue in my mouth, and I was breathless in surprise. I could feel passion radiating off him in waves, and it was all I could do to fist my hands in the cotton of his tunic, holding on for dear life. The hair Leliana had carefully arranged was destroyed beyond repair as he tangled his strong fingers into it.

He leaned into me, and I took an involuntary step back under his weight. He pressed again, and I was backed up against the door, our bodies clasped tightly together. His passion was infectious, and I was suddenly desperate to be closer to him. I could feel his muscles contracting under my fingers, and needed to lay my hands on his skin. Releasing his shirt, I slid my arms around his slim waist, slipping down beneath the edge of his tunic and back up to splay my hands against his lower back. His groan was feral, and I was actually frightened for a fraction of a second as my primitive brain responded to the much larger predator it suddenly realised was about to devour me. And I felt devoured; his mouth on mine was savage and demanding, his teeth nipping at my lips, his tongue dueling with mine. A shot of adrenaline coursed through me like fire, and a submissive moan was all I managed in response.

His knee pressed between my legs, and mine separated to allow access. The sounds I could hear were exhilarating and confusing; I was so wrapped up in him I didn't even recognise my own voice. A moan as his thigh pressed against my sex; a sigh as his lips left mine; a gasp as he instead tilted my head and latched onto my neck; a growl as I felt his hardness on my hip. I needed him more than I needed air, and I started scrabbling at the buttons on his tunic, barely managing to disentangle his arms long enough to shove it down to the floor. One of his arms slipped around my waist, giving me an opening to run my fingers through his hair on their way down to stroke across his broad, muscular shoulders. His skin was hot to the touch, a striking contrast to the cold air, and I shuddered in response.

Releasing me again, he reached down to grab at the fabric of my dress, trying to pull it up and get access to my own skin. The voluminous skirts thwarted him, tumbling down around his hands, and finally I pushed him away an inch, grabbed the hem, and lifted my arms, pulling the dress off over my head and tossing it to the floor. I hadn't bothered with bra or underwear for a quick run to the kitchen, and this left me naked. He let out a possessive growl as he raked over me with his eyes, and I flushed, pink traveling from my cheeks, to the tips of my ears, to the tops of my breasts, and I saw his eyes darken with appreciation. Despite the horror-movie hair I knew I must be sporting, I'd never felt so beautiful in my life.

He returned to me then, hands suddenly everywhere, lips glued to my neck, providing both literal and figurative warmth to fight the chill in the air. His thigh returned to its place between my legs, and I could feel the rough linen of his trousers rubbing across my lower lips. I wondered if I'd leave a stain, and decided I didn't care. His hands roamed, from my neck, to cup my breasts, grip my ass and pull me tighter against him, tickle across my abdomen and tease my navel. Each new touch dragged another sound from my lips. He knelt in front of me, sucking each of my small breasts into his mouth in turn, hands still exploring me, and I grabbed a handful of his hair to hold his head in place while shudders ran through me. I felt like molten lava ran through my veins, not blood, and each place he touched was its own miniature volcano. Despite everything, I'd never truly felt feeble before, but in the face of his passion I was weak as a kitten.

When he stood up, I couldn't take it any longer and fumbled at the waist of his trousers. He pushed my hands away, finally ripping the knotted cord that held them up, and kicked them off. I stared at him, my own perfect Adonis, his muscles rippling in time to his panting breaths, and he let me look, a knowing smile playing across his flushed face. My gaze travelled further down and I saw that he was hard, head purple and slightly leaking, reaching up towards me, and I needed him. I almost sobbed with need, hands reaching out for him. He waited another heartbeat, and then two, and I finally found my voice and whispered out a stuttered "Pl ... please, Alistair."

The last syllable rose to a cry as he rushed back to me, arms around me, lifting, pressing, and suddenly he had my legs wrapped around his waist, his hands on my ass, and he was lowering me onto him. I tilted my hips slightly as I felt his tip brush over my sex, capturing him and holding the right angle as he filled me. He pressed my back against the door, holding himself still and letting me adjust to his size. I wasn't having that, my need was too great, and I awkwardly tried to thrust my hips against his, scraping my nails across his back. Getting the picture, he buried his face in my neck again and lifted with his arms, sliding me up his cock before mercilessly dropping me back down. I hissed in pleasure, urging him to do it again, and he complied, setting up a rhythm, pounding into me, demanding surrender, and I cried out wantonly.

I heard myself babbling, and as embarrassed as I was, I couldn't seem to stop. As he relentlessly thrust into me, a steady stream of endearments poured from my lips.

"Only for you, Alistair. It was always and only you. I've never wanted anyone else, forever just for you."

I peaked quickly, the lava boiling now, but he was relentless and kept going, kept demanding, and my whispers gave way to a rising keen as my temperature kept increasing, and I wondered if sex could actually make someone's head explode, and then I couldn't think as I came again, hips wriggling uselessly.

Before I even had a chance to draw a breath, he lifted me up and off him, setting my feet shakily on the floor, and I moaned in despair as I was suddenly empty. I didn't have much time to think, however; he turned me, taking my hands and bracing them on the door where my back had been, reached around in front of me to run his fingers through my sodden lips, bent down a bit awkwardly, and suddenly I was filled again from behind.

I bowed my head, resting it against my arms on the door, enjoying the aftershocks of my last orgasm as my walls squeezed him within me. He groaned again, and hunched over me, one hand reaching around to cup a small breast, his thumb flicking across my nipple, while the other steadied my hip. It was his turn to babble, and I heard him breathlessly whispering a mantra of possession and passion.

"You are mine, I'll never let you go. So beautiful! Maker's Breath, I love you, Sierra."

His thrusts increased in tempo again, and realising I was adequately stabilised, his hand followed the line of my hip, down in front, where his deft fingers found my button. Already over stimulated, I thrashed and shrieked, and with a roar his rhythm faltered and I felt him pulse inside me. Shuddering together, his hands finally stilled and slid away from my oversensitive parts, at the same time that he softened and slipped out of me. I turned and threw my arms around his neck, and he chuckled and wrapped his own around me. We clung together as we caught our breath, and then I felt his knees buckle. We collapsed to the ground in slow motion, managing only to turn so I landed in a pile of quilts, that he'd kicked away before bed, instead of on the stone floor. He ended up lying across me, his head pillowed on my breast, his belly pressed against my sex, his hips between my knees, while I lay on my back with my arms around his shoulders. I could feel our mixed secretions seeping out, probably soaking his belly and pooling in the blankets under me, but neither of us cared enough to do anything about it.

I repositioned some of the quilts to provide myself a makeshift pillow, then returned to running my fingers through his hair and stroking his soft skin. It was an interesting contrast between the smooth skin and the hard muscle underneath, and I enjoyed the goosebumps I elicited as I played.

"So ... what brought that on, love?" I finally asked, curious.

His voice was muffled as he nuzzled my breast, but I could have sworn he sounded embarrassed.

"I woke up, and you weren't here. I thought ... I thought you were gone. Back to your world. That I might never see you again. I jumped up and got dressed, planning to search the place. When you opened the door, I was so relieved, I just ... lost control."

"If this is my reward, I'm going to bring you breakfast in bed more often, I think." I grinned and he blushed. "Maybe not for a few days, though. I'm going to need some recovery time."

"Oh, Maker, did I hurt you? I was so frantic..."