Re: Undone 3/? - m!Amell/Anora
anonymous
August 22 2010, 12:16:50 UTC
Marcus shifted back in his seat as his assassin with the tattooed face came through the door, shaking his head. “Marcus, my friend you are completely hopeless. We finally return to the capitol with all of its entertainment and amusements, and you end up in the library.” The elf’s brows lifted, and his grin doubled in size as he shifted his gaze to her. Zevran dropped into an elaborate bow. “Although perhaps not as hopeless as I thought if such beautiful women are to be found in dusty places such as this. I must visit libraries more often, it seems.”
The mage’s tone was wry. “Was there something that you needed?”
“Oh there are many things that I need. Women, wine, but mostly sovereigns, because as you know, the information you require for your Landsmeet does not come cheap.”
Marcus reached into the folds of his long robes and withdrew a purse. The coins inside clinked as he tossed it to the elf. “Take Leliana with you and stay out of trouble. And Zev, the Pearl is not on the way to the Alienage.”
The elf pulled a face. “Marcus, you wound me. I would not be so derelict in my duty.” He hefted an over dramatic sigh. “Although, Isabella’s ship is in port…”
“Scout out the Alienage. Report to me in the morning, and let me know what you find.”
“You are such a cruel task master, but I will do as you bid while you sit here in comfort and worship at the feet of a goddess.”
Marcus’s amusement was laced in his voice. “Good.”
The elf turned to leave, but then reached into one of his pouches and handed the Warden something small that was wrapped in velvet cloth. “Oh, I almost forgot. These came from the Wonders of Thedas for you.”
“Excellent. Thank you.”
The mage unwrapped the small package as the assassin left, and pulled out the absolute last thing Anora would have expected. The spectacles were delicate and gold rimmed, and looked like they might break any second underneath his large hands.
Re: Undone 4/? - m!Amell/Anora
anonymous
August 22 2010, 12:20:14 UTC
Anora’s brows lifted. “You wear spectacles?”
“I’m afraid so. All of the years in the tower reading books by candlelight has taken a toll it seems.”
It should not have been easy to picture this man hunched over a pile of dusty tomes. Marcus was enormous, nearly as large as the Qunari he travelled with, and looked like he belonged on a farm pushing a plow. And yet she could see the image of it clearly in her mind, of this educated man with his ink staned hands frowning over an ancient book as he read late into the night, and it was completely and utterly endearing.
He picked up the spectacles and stood, moving over to one of the bookshelves. “Wynne insisted that I start wearing them to read after I nearly got everyone killed.”
At her questioning look, he continued. “It was when the Circle was overrun by demons. When we went to face Uldred, there was a liturgy I needed to read to stop the abominations from coming, and I couldn’t make out the words. It was Wynne who ended up doing the chant at the very last moment.”
“Why haven’t I seen you wear them before?”
His face remained blank but his tone turned wry. “Because they were broken when I was captured and taken to fort Drakon.”
“Oh.” Chagrin washed over her, as she remembered how she lied to Cauthrien after her presence had been revealed and the battle that had followed. She twisted her hands in her lap. “Once again, I am sorry for that. I should have trusted your motives.”
This time she surprised herself again by actually meaning the apology.
He shrugged. “Well, that was partially my fault,” he said, as slipped the spectacles on.
She expected the spectacles to look utterly ridiculous on this man with the broad shoulders and plain face, but they suited him completely and utterly. Reason and sense and prudence fled. Anora couldn’t do anything but stare, as the desire she had been trying to hold back washed over her unchecked.
Maker help her, but she wanted him.
“You asked me not to reveal your presence and I should have listened, but I was,” he cleared his throat and turned to the books on the shelves, “distracted.”
She stood and steadied herself with her hand on the table, intending to do the sensible thing and bolt out the door but unable to bring herself to do it, because all she could see was the moment she met him and the dumbfounded way that he’d stared at her when the door had opened. At the time, she had been confused by his reaction and dismissed him as a simpleton, which in hindsight was a terrible mistake. Marcus had looked at her the exactly the same way that she was looking at him right now, and it finally occurred to her that it might be for the same reason.
“Distracted by what?” she breathed.
His broad shoulders tensed under the fabric of his robes. For a moment he just stood there, the flat of his hand resting against the spines of the books, and she thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then he turned to face her, his intense gaze magnified by the spectacles he wore.
Re: Undone 4/? - m!Amell/Anora
anonymous
August 22 2010, 18:20:10 UTC
eee! You are making the Anora fangirl inside me squee with delight. It's so adorable to see her all flustered (and those bits about Cailan were so painful!)
Re: Undone 4/? - m!Amell/Anora
anonymous
August 28 2010, 16:09:20 UTC
Hopefully I'll have more by tomorrow sometime. I had a deadline for another story that I had to be finished by friday, but now that that's done I can concentrate on this.
Re: Undone 5/? - m!Amell/Anora
anonymous
August 30 2010, 01:40:40 UTC
Anora blinked. Even though it was she’d hoped he’d say, even though the words spoke to the lonely ache that had been in her chest for years, she still cursed her own weakness and foolishness.
To dally with this man was beyond dangerous, both to her claim to the throne and her own personal safety. He was a mage, she was a Queen and they had a nation to save. And yet, she couldn’t bring to her lips the necessary words to discourage him.
The best she could manage under the circumstances was a neutral, “I see.”
The silence stretched as he continued to study her through his spectacles. “I have offended you,” he said, as his jaw tightened.
It was a way out, one that if she were wise, she would take. But wisdom, it seemed, was in short supply. She could not allow him to believe that she thought ill of him.
“No,” she said. “I am not offended, Marcus.”
He blinked and his face softened into something that looked like wry chagrin. “No doubt the admiration of men is something you’re used to.”
“I have had my share of compliments from ambitious men since Cailan’s death, yes.”
Whispered words and false promises from men who thought she was fool enough to place them on the empty throne beside her. Men who thought to wait out her father’s regency and be handed the reins of a nation because of some pretty words and sparkling baubles.
Marcus’s face went blank and his voice did not rise, but nonetheless it was clear that she had wounded him. “I am not those men. I have no expectations or demands of you other than your help to end this blight.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that you did.” She twisted her hands. “What I meant is that I am used to complements, but not sincerity. You leave me at a loss, Warden.”
He moved toward her, stopping just short of her. His brows lifted over the golden frame of his spectacles. “I don’t believe that. There must be many other men who have noticed how amazing you are.”
Heat spread through her belly at his words. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze. “I think I intimidate most men. I am certain that I intimidated even Calian at times, and he knew me my entire life.”
Usually it worked to her advantage. There were times that she even found it useful. Anora would much rather be listened to than fawned over, but she had learned the hard way that it was not a reaction that she desired from the husband who, despite his glaring flaws, she had loved. She suspected that it was the reason he had sought the bed of others so often.
Marcus took her hand in his, her slender fingers engulfed in his large hand, and brushed his lips across her knuckles. “Any man who cannot appreciate your intelligence as well as your beauty is unworthy of you.”
Sparks of heat skittered across her skin. With the courtly gesture finished, he should have dropped her hand, but instead he turned it over, and pressed his lips to her palm.
Re: Undone 6/? - m!Amell/Anora
anonymous
August 30 2010, 01:46:50 UTC
She was overwhelmed by the intimacy. Heat seared through her palm straight to her core. Anora’s knees threatened to buckle, but she didn’t pull away, not even when he pressed his lips to the soft skin at the pulse point of her wrist.
Anora grazed his jaw with her slender fingers and pulled her hand back enough to brush her thumb across his lip. She wasn’t certain whether she drew him down to her, or he closed the distance on his own but the next thing she knew his mouth was on hers.
His kiss was neither the tentative brush of lips she expected, nor the gentle and affectionate familiarity that her husband’s had been. It was a hungry and intense demand as Marcus’s quiet stoicism crumbled away. Anora responded to his passion in kind, kissing him back and curling her fingers into the fabric of his robes and pulling him closer. He wrapped his arms around her, until the length of his body was pressed against hers in a way that left her with no doubt of the strength of his desire.
She gasped as the cool metal of his spectacles brushed the tender skin under her ear as his lips swept to the column of her neck and to her earlobe. Pleasure warred with frustration. He was too tall for her to wind her arms around his neck the way that she wanted or to taste his skin. All she could do was breathe in the scent of clean male and autumn leaves until he claimed her lips again.
Finally Marcus pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. His brown eyes were hazy behind his spectacles. “We have to stop.”
She knew he was right, but for the life of her she couldn’t think why, so she pulled him back into another kiss. His hands slid up her sides, until his thumb brushed against the underside of her breast. She moaned and arched into his palm.
He pulled back again, this time placing his large hands on her shoulders and moving her back until her backside hit the table behind her. Marcus swallowed and then spoke in a hoarse voice. “Anora, if we don’t stop, I’m going to take you right here on this table.”
That he wanted her that badly brought a purely feminine curl of satisfaction to her belly, but it was tempered with the knowledge that anyone could walk in on them at any moment.
She nodded and moved back farther, cursing herself for her stupidity. “You’re right, if Eamon found us…” Anora had no doubt that the Arl would have no scruples about using a lapse in chastity against her. For a King with a noble bloodline, dalliances were expected. For a commoner Queen, even a dowager one, dalliances were treason. But her disappointment was quite profound, and the lonely ache in her chest burned cold once again as she struggled to compose herself. “But I wish…” She swallowed the rest of the words, knowing that it did not matter what she wished, the circumstances were what they were.
Marcus dropped his hands and rubbed his jaw. He looked at her with his intent gaze once again, and she could tell he was weighing something in his mind. “There is another way. Tonight, I can come to you.”
She didn’t know what to say. Whatever means of getting into her room that he could devise, no doubt magical, they were still under Eamon’s roof. There would still be the chance of discovery, and thus the chance to lose everything. But maker preserve her, she wanted this man in her bed so badly that the thought of facing the night alone after what had just happened between them was unbearable.
He took her hand. “You are the one with the most to lose. This has to be your decision. If you decide that this is worth the risk, then leave your window open and I will come. If not, then I will understand and accept it.” He set her hands free and nodded to the door. “You should go before anyone gets suspicious.”
She nodded, and with one last longing look at the man that she wanted for a lover, she slipped through the door, not knowing what her decision was going to be.
Re: Undone 6/? - m!Amell/Anora
anonymous
August 30 2010, 03:36:08 UTC
Oh, now this is wonderful.
Seeing as this is listed on the kmeme, I have a rather distinct feeling as to what her decision will be, but all the same, I am waiting breathless. I cannot wait for more! This is delightfully forbidden passion.
Re: Undone 6/? - m!Amell/Anora
anonymous
August 31 2010, 02:36:02 UTC
The barely restrained passion is SO HOT, anon. SO hot. Please don't leave us hanging. I /love/ fics where Anora finally gets the (sexy) attention she so richly deserves after years of being overlooked by that gloriously silly husband of hers.
But seriously. Unf. I want your Amell to take ME on that table.
Re: Undone 6/? - m!Amell/Anora
anonymous
August 31 2010, 13:49:16 UTC
Heh, thanks. I'm glad you're enjoying it. I'm working on the next part and hopefully will have enough written to post either tonight (or more likely) sometime tomorrow, and hopefully this fic will be finished by the end of the week.
Re: Undone 7/? - m!Amell/Anora
anonymous
September 1 2010, 06:16:51 UTC
Anora was not going to open the window.
It was a decision she’d come to minutes after leaving the Warden in the library. There was simply no other rational, practical choice to make.
She repeated this to herself many times over the course of the next few hours. When she found herself unable to eat and dismissed herself from dinner early. As she bathed in scented water, Erlina brushing and drying Anora's hair by the fire until it fell in golden waves to her waist. As she chose the most becoming of Isolde’s borrowed sleeping gowns. While she dismissed her handmaiden, locked the door, and blew out the candles so the only light in the bedchamber was the soft glow of the fire in the hearth. Until there was nothing left to do in the silence of the night except pace before the closed window and war with her traitorous heart.
Anora lost track of the number of times she resolved to turn in to bed, each time balking at the thought of spending the night alone, but eventually she found herself still before the window with her hand on the cold glass. With a defeated sigh she lifted the latch and opened the casement. The cold autumn wind washed over her, blowing her hair behind her as she peered out into the dark courtyard below. She wrapped her arms about her middle, shivering as she waited.
Nothing happened. Several minutes passed in cold, underwhelming silence. She studied the wall below the window, but the drop was sheer and there no handholds or vines that he could climb upon that she could see.
Chilled and feeling more than a bit foolish, she moved back to the fireplace and pulled a shawl about her shoulders. Anticipation distorted time, making the few minutes that passed seem like a small eternity, allowing doubt to creep in - not about how foolish she was being, because she was already well aware of that - but that the mage had changed his mind and decided she was not worth the extra complication. Or worse, that she had waited too long and he’d given up entirely.
But just as her stomach dropped to her toes at that thought, there was a flurry of movement by the window. Anora’s eyes widened when the great white owl flew into the room. She fell back a few steps, dropped the shawl and reached for the iron poker next to the hearth, wondering whether she should shout for help from the guards. There was a crackle of power that charged the room and then the owl became a man, causing another gasp.
“Maker’s Breath,” she said as she lowered the poker.
Marcus moved to the locked door, placing his palms against the wood as he murmured some words she could not make out. Anora regained her scattered wits, crossed the room and fumbled to latch the window, drawing the heavy curtains over the leaded glass. She turned back just in time to see the glowing white rune fade into the heavy wooden door.
He walked over to her and gently took the iron poker that she didn’t realize she was still clutching in a white knuckled grip, setting it aside. His eyes were creased with worry behind the spectacles he still wore. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Re: Undone 8/? - m!Amell/Anora
anonymous
September 1 2010, 06:23:38 UTC
Power still thrummed around him, striking home that this man was dangerous. She could feel the magic humming across his skin when he took her hands, but she didn’t pull away. “No. I am an idiot. I should have realized the owl was you. I didn’t know that was possible.”
“It is...” He paused and frowned. “…not something they teach in the Tower, but useful nonetheless.” His lips twitched slightly as he shifted closer. “Although this is the first time I’ve ever used it to sneak into a woman’s bedchamber.”
She arched an eyebrow as her eyes darted to the door. “But not the first time you’ve used magic to stay undetected while with a lover.”
His tone turned wry. “With the Templars always watching, you learn to get creative when you want privacy. The ward will warn me if anyone tries to enter tonight.”
She let out a breath. “That is reassuring,” she said, relaxing only a bit. Anora was still all nerves and sparking anticipation. Maker help her, she hadn’t been this nervous when she’d come to Cailan as a maiden on her wedding night. Then again she suspected the comfortable familiarity of knowing Cailan his whole life and a liberal amount of wine had helped ease the process considerably.
The way Marcus was kneading her hands wasn’t helping. The delicious ache that spread through her body at his touch was unsettling as it was pleasurable.
His brows knit over the rims of his spectacles. “You don’t look very reassured. If you’ve changed your mind now that you’ve seen my magic -”
Anora pulled one of her hands away, brushing the tips of her fingers over his lips to silence him. “I haven’t.” She met his gaze. “It’s not your magic, Marcus. It’s that it’s been a long time since I’ve been with a man and I have never taken a lover. I am simply nervous.”
The lines around his eyes smoothed out. He slid his free hand into her unbound hair, while his other arm wrapped around her waist pulling her close. He bent and nuzzled the skin of her temple, his breath hot against her skin. “Tell me what I can do to put you at ease.”
She swallowed and pulled him down, murmuring the words against his lips. “The last thing I want right now is to feel at ease.”
Anora kissed him, putting every ounce of her need and want and hunger into the embrace. He responded by crushing her against his body and kissing her back. When he broke away and began to taste her skin again, everything went hot and hazy. She clung to his broad shoulders as he nipped her ear. Anora wanted to howl in frustration when she was thwarted by his height once again. And when his callused, ink stained hands slid over the silk nightshift instead of her bare skin, she couldn’t contain the frustrated sound from escaping her throat.
“Then tell me what you want,” he said.
“Bed,” she gasped. “I want you in bed.”
“Right.” He lifted her, carrying her to the bed as he kissed her, still kissing her when they sank down into the soft bedding together.
Re: Undone 8/? - m!Amell/Anora
anonymous
September 2 2010, 01:07:50 UTC
Oooh, how awesome!
I must admit that I love your work as much as I do because of all those little non-kink details. Anora about to try to beat the owl to death with a poker as she's going "WTF is a large bird doing in my room at night?" Priceless. (I don't even want to think about what would have happened had you had Marcus go for the more DA authentic swarm of bugs. Ewww...and let me not even think "Leda and the Swan" thoughts. My mind goes strange places, I think.)
Oh, and then Anora's annoyance that she is occasionally out of control is wonderful, too. I can so see her being all, "argh, as hot as it is when you kiss me like that, I want to be able to do what I want to you!"
Again, lovely chapters, and I cannot wait to read the rest. ;)
Re: Undone 9/? - m!Amell/Anora
anonymous
September 6 2010, 21:43:37 UTC
The hard length of his body settled over hers. Anora’s hands roamed across the fabric of his robes as she searched for the clasps, wanting to explore the firm muscle underneath. But when Marcus found the hem of her shift and pushed a hand underneath, her concentration shattered. She whimpered into his mouth as hand slid up the back of her thigh to her backside, slipping underneath her smallclothes and kneading the curve with his strong hand.
It had been nearly two years since a man had his hand on her skin that way, and Cailan’s hands were never like this. As much time as her husband spent training with his guardsmen, Cailan hadn’t used his hands to keep himself alive every single day fighting the blight. Where Cailan’s palms had been smooth and unmarked, the Warden’s were rough and hard and felt even more sensual on her skin than she’d ever imagined. Dizzy with pleasure, she thought she might come apart just from the sensation of his calluses scraping against her soft skin.
But it wasn’t nearly enough. His hips were cradled between her thighs and Anora could feel his arousal even through all of the cloth between them. It was absolutely maddening to be this close to him and yet still not be able to touch him the way that she wanted. The infernal garment covered him from his neck and arms down to his ankles and Anora cursed whoever had designed it.
Marcus shifted his weight and withdrew his hand and for a moment he was going to move back and disrobe, but then his hand was between her thighs, under her small clothes again and his fingertips were teasing her slick heat. She broke the kiss with a gasp, her head falling back against the mattress while he watched her writhe under his touch from behind the glass of his spectacles.
Pleasure uncoiled in her belly. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she tugged at the material. She swallowed hard and tried to regain her composure. “This is quite inequitable, Marcus.”
He bent down to nuzzle the delicate lines of her collarbone, and she could feel his lips twitching into a smile against her skin. “I was under the impression that you were finding this rather agreeable.”
“But you are not undressed,” she said, trying and failing to keep the frustration from her words. “I cannot touch you.”
A rumble of pleased laughter vibrated from his chest, the sound producing another curl of desire that was just as heady and potent as what his hand was doing to her body. His fingers intensified the stroke and her hips bucked in response. Anora bit her lip to keep the moan from falling from her lips.
“In a moment, I promise,” he said in between trailing kisses to the hollow of her throat.
The pad of his thumb joined his fingers. Anora opened her mouth to argue with him further and insist that she get her way now, but whatever she was going to say dissolved into a moan as her body betrayed her.
She was well aware of how to pleasure herself, she had done so recently in an attempt to master her desire for the Grey Warden in fact, but it was nothing to having the man himself touching her. Anora’s eyes fluttered shut as she quaked under his relentless hand. It didn’t take long before molten pleasure melted through her, turning her boneless underneath his weight.
The mage’s tone was wry. “Was there something that you needed?”
“Oh there are many things that I need. Women, wine, but mostly sovereigns, because as you know, the information you require for your Landsmeet does not come cheap.”
Marcus reached into the folds of his long robes and withdrew a purse. The coins inside clinked as he tossed it to the elf. “Take Leliana with you and stay out of trouble. And Zev, the Pearl is not on the way to the Alienage.”
The elf pulled a face. “Marcus, you wound me. I would not be so derelict in my duty.” He hefted an over dramatic sigh. “Although, Isabella’s ship is in port…”
“Scout out the Alienage. Report to me in the morning, and let me know what you find.”
“You are such a cruel task master, but I will do as you bid while you sit here in comfort and worship at the feet of a goddess.”
Marcus’s amusement was laced in his voice. “Good.”
The elf turned to leave, but then reached into one of his pouches and handed the Warden something small that was wrapped in velvet cloth. “Oh, I almost forgot. These came from the Wonders of Thedas for you.”
“Excellent. Thank you.”
The mage unwrapped the small package as the assassin left, and pulled out the absolute last thing Anora would have expected. The spectacles were delicate and gold rimmed, and looked like they might break any second underneath his large hands.
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“I’m afraid so. All of the years in the tower reading books by candlelight has taken a toll it seems.”
It should not have been easy to picture this man hunched over a pile of dusty tomes. Marcus was enormous, nearly as large as the Qunari he travelled with, and looked like he belonged on a farm pushing a plow. And yet she could see the image of it clearly in her mind, of this educated man with his ink staned hands frowning over an ancient book as he read late into the night, and it was completely and utterly endearing.
He picked up the spectacles and stood, moving over to one of the bookshelves. “Wynne insisted that I start wearing them to read after I nearly got everyone killed.”
At her questioning look, he continued. “It was when the Circle was overrun by demons. When we went to face Uldred, there was a liturgy I needed to read to stop the abominations from coming, and I couldn’t make out the words. It was Wynne who ended up doing the chant at the very last moment.”
“Why haven’t I seen you wear them before?”
His face remained blank but his tone turned wry. “Because they were broken when I was captured and taken to fort Drakon.”
“Oh.” Chagrin washed over her, as she remembered how she lied to Cauthrien after her presence had been revealed and the battle that had followed. She twisted her hands in her lap. “Once again, I am sorry for that. I should have trusted your motives.”
This time she surprised herself again by actually meaning the apology.
He shrugged. “Well, that was partially my fault,” he said, as slipped the spectacles on.
She expected the spectacles to look utterly ridiculous on this man with the broad shoulders and plain face, but they suited him completely and utterly. Reason and sense and prudence fled. Anora couldn’t do anything but stare, as the desire she had been trying to hold back washed over her unchecked.
Maker help her, but she wanted him.
“You asked me not to reveal your presence and I should have listened, but I was,” he cleared his throat and turned to the books on the shelves, “distracted.”
She stood and steadied herself with her hand on the table, intending to do the sensible thing and bolt out the door but unable to bring herself to do it, because all she could see was the moment she met him and the dumbfounded way that he’d stared at her when the door had opened. At the time, she had been confused by his reaction and dismissed him as a simpleton, which in hindsight was a terrible mistake. Marcus had looked at her the exactly the same way that she was looking at him right now, and it finally occurred to her that it might be for the same reason.
“Distracted by what?” she breathed.
His broad shoulders tensed under the fabric of his robes. For a moment he just stood there, the flat of his hand resting against the spines of the books, and she thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then he turned to face her, his intense gaze magnified by the spectacles he wore.
“By you,” he said. “I was… distracted by you.”
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Not OP, but wow! I can't wait to read the rest. Marcus is a sexy Grey Warden!
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To dally with this man was beyond dangerous, both to her claim to the throne and her own personal safety. He was a mage, she was a Queen and they had a nation to save. And yet, she couldn’t bring to her lips the necessary words to discourage him.
The best she could manage under the circumstances was a neutral, “I see.”
The silence stretched as he continued to study her through his spectacles. “I have offended you,” he said, as his jaw tightened.
It was a way out, one that if she were wise, she would take. But wisdom, it seemed, was in short supply. She could not allow him to believe that she thought ill of him.
“No,” she said. “I am not offended, Marcus.”
He blinked and his face softened into something that looked like wry chagrin. “No doubt the admiration of men is something you’re used to.”
“I have had my share of compliments from ambitious men since Cailan’s death, yes.”
Whispered words and false promises from men who thought she was fool enough to place them on the empty throne beside her. Men who thought to wait out her father’s regency and be handed the reins of a nation because of some pretty words and sparkling baubles.
Marcus’s face went blank and his voice did not rise, but nonetheless it was clear that she had wounded him. “I am not those men. I have no expectations or demands of you other than your help to end this blight.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that you did.” She twisted her hands. “What I meant is that I am used to complements, but not sincerity. You leave me at a loss, Warden.”
He moved toward her, stopping just short of her. His brows lifted over the golden frame of his spectacles. “I don’t believe that. There must be many other men who have noticed how amazing you are.”
Heat spread through her belly at his words. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze. “I think I intimidate most men. I am certain that I intimidated even Calian at times, and he knew me my entire life.”
Usually it worked to her advantage. There were times that she even found it useful. Anora would much rather be listened to than fawned over, but she had learned the hard way that it was not a reaction that she desired from the husband who, despite his glaring flaws, she had loved. She suspected that it was the reason he had sought the bed of others so often.
Marcus took her hand in his, her slender fingers engulfed in his large hand, and brushed his lips across her knuckles. “Any man who cannot appreciate your intelligence as well as your beauty is unworthy of you.”
Sparks of heat skittered across her skin. With the courtly gesture finished, he should have dropped her hand, but instead he turned it over, and pressed his lips to her palm.
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Anora grazed his jaw with her slender fingers and pulled her hand back enough to brush her thumb across his lip. She wasn’t certain whether she drew him down to her, or he closed the distance on his own but the next thing she knew his mouth was on hers.
His kiss was neither the tentative brush of lips she expected, nor the gentle and affectionate familiarity that her husband’s had been. It was a hungry and intense demand as Marcus’s quiet stoicism crumbled away. Anora responded to his passion in kind, kissing him back and curling her fingers into the fabric of his robes and pulling him closer. He wrapped his arms around her, until the length of his body was pressed against hers in a way that left her with no doubt of the strength of his desire.
She gasped as the cool metal of his spectacles brushed the tender skin under her ear as his lips swept to the column of her neck and to her earlobe. Pleasure warred with frustration. He was too tall for her to wind her arms around his neck the way that she wanted or to taste his skin. All she could do was breathe in the scent of clean male and autumn leaves until he claimed her lips again.
Finally Marcus pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. His brown eyes were hazy behind his spectacles. “We have to stop.”
She knew he was right, but for the life of her she couldn’t think why, so she pulled him back into another kiss. His hands slid up her sides, until his thumb brushed against the underside of her breast. She moaned and arched into his palm.
He pulled back again, this time placing his large hands on her shoulders and moving her back until her backside hit the table behind her. Marcus swallowed and then spoke in a hoarse voice. “Anora, if we don’t stop, I’m going to take you right here on this table.”
That he wanted her that badly brought a purely feminine curl of satisfaction to her belly, but it was tempered with the knowledge that anyone could walk in on them at any moment.
She nodded and moved back farther, cursing herself for her stupidity. “You’re right, if Eamon found us…” Anora had no doubt that the Arl would have no scruples about using a lapse in chastity against her. For a King with a noble bloodline, dalliances were expected. For a commoner Queen, even a dowager one, dalliances were treason. But her disappointment was quite profound, and the lonely ache in her chest burned cold once again as she struggled to compose herself. “But I wish…” She swallowed the rest of the words, knowing that it did not matter what she wished, the circumstances were what they were.
Marcus dropped his hands and rubbed his jaw. He looked at her with his intent gaze once again, and she could tell he was weighing something in his mind. “There is another way. Tonight, I can come to you.”
She didn’t know what to say. Whatever means of getting into her room that he could devise, no doubt magical, they were still under Eamon’s roof. There would still be the chance of discovery, and thus the chance to lose everything. But maker preserve her, she wanted this man in her bed so badly that the thought of facing the night alone after what had just happened between them was unbearable.
He took her hand. “You are the one with the most to lose. This has to be your decision. If you decide that this is worth the risk, then leave your window open and I will come. If not, then I will understand and accept it.” He set her hands free and nodded to the door. “You should go before anyone gets suspicious.”
She nodded, and with one last longing look at the man that she wanted for a lover, she slipped through the door, not knowing what her decision was going to be.
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Seeing as this is listed on the kmeme, I have a rather distinct feeling as to what her decision will be, but all the same, I am waiting breathless. I cannot wait for more! This is delightfully forbidden passion.
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But seriously. Unf. I want your Amell to take ME on that table.
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It was a decision she’d come to minutes after leaving the Warden in the library. There was simply no other rational, practical choice to make.
She repeated this to herself many times over the course of the next few hours. When she found herself unable to eat and dismissed herself from dinner early. As she bathed in scented water, Erlina brushing and drying Anora's hair by the fire until it fell in golden waves to her waist. As she chose the most becoming of Isolde’s borrowed sleeping gowns. While she dismissed her handmaiden, locked the door, and blew out the candles so the only light in the bedchamber was the soft glow of the fire in the hearth. Until there was nothing left to do in the silence of the night except pace before the closed window and war with her traitorous heart.
Anora lost track of the number of times she resolved to turn in to bed, each time balking at the thought of spending the night alone, but eventually she found herself still before the window with her hand on the cold glass. With a defeated sigh she lifted the latch and opened the casement. The cold autumn wind washed over her, blowing her hair behind her as she peered out into the dark courtyard below. She wrapped her arms about her middle, shivering as she waited.
Nothing happened. Several minutes passed in cold, underwhelming silence. She studied the wall below the window, but the drop was sheer and there no handholds or vines that he could climb upon that she could see.
Chilled and feeling more than a bit foolish, she moved back to the fireplace and pulled a shawl about her shoulders. Anticipation distorted time, making the few minutes that passed seem like a small eternity, allowing doubt to creep in - not about how foolish she was being, because she was already well aware of that - but that the mage had changed his mind and decided she was not worth the extra complication. Or worse, that she had waited too long and he’d given up entirely.
But just as her stomach dropped to her toes at that thought, there was a flurry of movement by the window. Anora’s eyes widened when the great white owl flew into the room. She fell back a few steps, dropped the shawl and reached for the iron poker next to the hearth, wondering whether she should shout for help from the guards. There was a crackle of power that charged the room and then the owl became a man, causing another gasp.
“Maker’s Breath,” she said as she lowered the poker.
Marcus moved to the locked door, placing his palms against the wood as he murmured some words she could not make out. Anora regained her scattered wits, crossed the room and fumbled to latch the window, drawing the heavy curtains over the leaded glass. She turned back just in time to see the glowing white rune fade into the heavy wooden door.
He walked over to her and gently took the iron poker that she didn’t realize she was still clutching in a white knuckled grip, setting it aside. His eyes were creased with worry behind the spectacles he still wore. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
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“It is...” He paused and frowned. “…not something they teach in the Tower, but useful nonetheless.” His lips twitched slightly as he shifted closer. “Although this is the first time I’ve ever used it to sneak into a woman’s bedchamber.”
She arched an eyebrow as her eyes darted to the door. “But not the first time you’ve used magic to stay undetected while with a lover.”
His tone turned wry. “With the Templars always watching, you learn to get creative when you want privacy. The ward will warn me if anyone tries to enter tonight.”
She let out a breath. “That is reassuring,” she said, relaxing only a bit. Anora was still all nerves and sparking anticipation. Maker help her, she hadn’t been this nervous when she’d come to Cailan as a maiden on her wedding night. Then again she suspected the comfortable familiarity of knowing Cailan his whole life and a liberal amount of wine had helped ease the process considerably.
The way Marcus was kneading her hands wasn’t helping. The delicious ache that spread through her body at his touch was unsettling as it was pleasurable.
His brows knit over the rims of his spectacles. “You don’t look very reassured. If you’ve changed your mind now that you’ve seen my magic -”
Anora pulled one of her hands away, brushing the tips of her fingers over his lips to silence him. “I haven’t.” She met his gaze. “It’s not your magic, Marcus. It’s that it’s been a long time since I’ve been with a man and I have never taken a lover. I am simply nervous.”
The lines around his eyes smoothed out. He slid his free hand into her unbound hair, while his other arm wrapped around her waist pulling her close. He bent and nuzzled the skin of her temple, his breath hot against her skin. “Tell me what I can do to put you at ease.”
She swallowed and pulled him down, murmuring the words against his lips. “The last thing I want right now is to feel at ease.”
Anora kissed him, putting every ounce of her need and want and hunger into the embrace. He responded by crushing her against his body and kissing her back. When he broke away and began to taste her skin again, everything went hot and hazy. She clung to his broad shoulders as he nipped her ear. Anora wanted to howl in frustration when she was thwarted by his height once again. And when his callused, ink stained hands slid over the silk nightshift instead of her bare skin, she couldn’t contain the frustrated sound from escaping her throat.
“Then tell me what you want,” he said.
“Bed,” she gasped. “I want you in bed.”
“Right.” He lifted her, carrying her to the bed as he kissed her, still kissing her when they sank down into the soft bedding together.
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I must admit that I love your work as much as I do because of all those little non-kink details. Anora about to try to beat the owl to death with a poker as she's going "WTF is a large bird doing in my room at night?" Priceless. (I don't even want to think about what would have happened had you had Marcus go for the more DA authentic swarm of bugs. Ewww...and let me not even think "Leda and the Swan" thoughts. My mind goes strange places, I think.)
Oh, and then Anora's annoyance that she is occasionally out of control is wonderful, too. I can so see her being all, "argh, as hot as it is when you kiss me like that, I want to be able to do what I want to you!"
Again, lovely chapters, and I cannot wait to read the rest. ;)
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It had been nearly two years since a man had his hand on her skin that way, and Cailan’s hands were never like this. As much time as her husband spent training with his guardsmen, Cailan hadn’t used his hands to keep himself alive every single day fighting the blight. Where Cailan’s palms had been smooth and unmarked, the Warden’s were rough and hard and felt even more sensual on her skin than she’d ever imagined. Dizzy with pleasure, she thought she might come apart just from the sensation of his calluses scraping against her soft skin.
But it wasn’t nearly enough. His hips were cradled between her thighs and Anora could feel his arousal even through all of the cloth between them. It was absolutely maddening to be this close to him and yet still not be able to touch him the way that she wanted. The infernal garment covered him from his neck and arms down to his ankles and Anora cursed whoever had designed it.
Marcus shifted his weight and withdrew his hand and for a moment he was going to move back and disrobe, but then his hand was between her thighs, under her small clothes again and his fingertips were teasing her slick heat. She broke the kiss with a gasp, her head falling back against the mattress while he watched her writhe under his touch from behind the glass of his spectacles.
Pleasure uncoiled in her belly. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she tugged at the material. She swallowed hard and tried to regain her composure. “This is quite inequitable, Marcus.”
He bent down to nuzzle the delicate lines of her collarbone, and she could feel his lips twitching into a smile against her skin. “I was under the impression that you were finding this rather agreeable.”
“But you are not undressed,” she said, trying and failing to keep the frustration from her words. “I cannot touch you.”
A rumble of pleased laughter vibrated from his chest, the sound producing another curl of desire that was just as heady and potent as what his hand was doing to her body. His fingers intensified the stroke and her hips bucked in response. Anora bit her lip to keep the moan from falling from her lips.
“In a moment, I promise,” he said in between trailing kisses to the hollow of her throat.
The pad of his thumb joined his fingers. Anora opened her mouth to argue with him further and insist that she get her way now, but whatever she was going to say dissolved into a moan as her body betrayed her.
She was well aware of how to pleasure herself, she had done so recently in an attempt to master her desire for the Grey Warden in fact, but it was nothing to having the man himself touching her. Anora’s eyes fluttered shut as she quaked under his relentless hand. It didn’t take long before molten pleasure melted through her, turning her boneless underneath his weight.
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