Forgive Me If I Rush (Menage 16)
Title: Forgive Me If I Rush (Ménage 16)
Words: 3528
Rating: M for sexings
Characters: Alistair/f!Surana (Philoméne)/Zevran
…yeah, that’s right. You heard me.
Summary: If you’ve been following the story, I just told you where we are. If not, this is a good place to jump in if you like elf sex. If you need it, there is a brief explanation and disclaimer of the term "Babbo" here.
[ETA: Curses! I forgot to put in my heartfelt dedication of this chapter to
aithne , whose depiction of "Babbo" Zev on Formspring becomes a major element in his character as of this point. Yay!]
<-Previous: You Only Had to Say
She didn’t need another assassin. For that matter, she also didn’t need another lost heir of a fallen noble house. Both of those posts were taken by men better suited to them, who would also never dream of touching her without -
He had promised not to dwell on it, as long as he was not alone with her again.
Zevran slowly swirled a pair of practice sticks from finger to finger as he whispered the verse from Transfigurations to himself. “You are the fire at the heart of the world, and comfort is only Yours to give.”
The pairing of finger exercise and prayer was an old one he had learned from an aged Antivan master not of his lineage, in exchange for a few hours of his own youthful beauty. It had kept his hands limber and his mind clear through any number of trials.
You are the fire at the heart of the world…
She’d agreed to his terms. He had no reason to doubt her word: she would keep it, even if she still didn’t understand his insistence. On such occasions as this, her stubborn innocence could be as maddening as it was beautiful. All the more reason she had to be kept safe from the kinds of peril she was blind to.
And Nathaniel was gone, and Zevran had Philoméne’s word, and Oghren’s and Anders’ eyes out for trouble as well as his own, and so she was safe. End of discussion.
…and comfort is only Yours to give.
After a while he put the sticks down and merely stood leaned into the wall opposite his door, letting the prayer echo further and further back into his head, leaving quiet in its wake. He was just starting to really breathe the peace in when he heard the footsteps outside. No signs of trying to go unheard, so he remained where he was, at ease. Most likely it was some messenger with -
It was Philoméne. She had never come to see him in his own quarters before, but now here she was, and she closed the door behind her and regarded him with a strangely uncertain look.
“My Warden,” he said amiably, straightening up so as not to be leaning against the wall. “What is your desire?”
She looked restless; she stopped only a pace away from him, then crossed her arms and shifted back and forth as she spoke. “I need to understand why you stopped trying.”
“Stopped trying?”
“To bed me.”
What in the world was she - he was almost not quick enough to keep the shock out of his face. His right hand slowly clenched and unclenched as he exerted his self-control over everything else. “Because you asked me to stop, as I recall. Cajoling a woman into bed is one thing, but harassing her is another.”
She nodded and relaxed a little, as if it had been a real answer to a real question, rather than a statement of something she knew perfectly well. “Still, I was surprised that you never tried again. It wasn’t because you stopped wanting me?”
His hand clenched and stayed clenched, and even so he was concerned that his casual facade was going to fail him. “Are you sure this is a subject you want to discuss, my Warden?”
Not only did she nod again, she stepped closer to him. And she might… she might be asking because Alistair had spoken to her, and the question might be a prelude to her telling him where he was to stand now that they both knew. He needed to measure his - Maker, those soft dark eyes of hers - still so innocent after all they had been through. No one in Ferelden could resist those eyes.
“No,” he breathed. “It was not because I stopped wanting you. You are in love with Alistair, and I did not want to disturb something so beautiful.”
She laid a hand over his heart, and it lurched in his chest. He leaned back against the wall, suddenly in need of the support. “You are putting me in a terrible position, you know,” he whispered. “If your purpose is only to test my resolve, it may not be wise to tempt me too far.”
Her delicious lips pouted. “I’m just confusing you, aren’t I? That’s not what I wanted.” All the same, her fingertips traced down the center of his chest in a way that only made it worse. He was already fighting his instincts when she said, “I talked to Alistair. We agreed.”
His hands were pressed against the wall. “Agreed to what? Maker’s breath, piccola. You need to be clear. To act on guesses will make a villain of me if I am wrong.”
In response she put both hands on him, on his shoulders, and gave him a plaintive look. “You’ve taken such good care of me, and I’ve been so ungrateful. I’ve known what you needed in return and refused to give it to you. I’m sorry.” She touched her soft lips against his, maddeningly delicate, and he had to pull her against him by the waist, tugging her in with a force that made her gasp.
But then he managed to rein himself again, allowing himself only a slow tracing of her bottom lip with his tongue before he pulled his head back to speak. “It is too late for this to be a casual affair,” he warned her. Already one hand had run hungrily up her back, and he brought it to rest on the side of her face, to keep her dark eyes looking at his so she would know how serious he was. “Do not begin this if you mean it to be only a token of gratitude. Or a curiosity. I… cannot bear that now, from you.” His eyes probed hers for any sign of hesitation. After all this time, he had to be sure.
“That is not my intention; it is not my nature. I didn’t - I would not have made you wait and prove yourself so long if it were. I am.” There she paused, but her look was more shyness than doubt. “Serious.”
“And you and Alistair have spoken. You have agreed that you both desire this. I have no wish to cause contention between you.” She nodded, and still his mind kept racing, wondering whether this could still perhaps be some sort of delusion on his part. To his own disbelief, he tested one last time, against his most fantastical wishes. “Then I am also serious. I must be your babbo or nothing.”
Her stance against his chest was soft, compliant. “I don’t know what that means.”
“It means I want to take care of you.” He traced his fingertips along her cheekbone, then down the lines of that side of her tattoo. “To protect you, to guide you through the parts of the world you do not understand. I want you to trust me completely.”
Her smile was sweet enough to break his heart. “That doesn’t sound any different.”
“Completely. That would involve actually listening to my advice.” He allowed himself to slide his cheek against hers, bringing his mouth down toward the nape of her neck. “And giving me much more latitude in certain other things.”
“Well, of course that.” She seemed to tremble a little bit against him, but her arms wrapped around him tenderly. “Acconsento, Babbo.”
His body responded more quickly than his head; he gasped and then smothered his gasp by pressing his lips to her throat, and grabbed her tight against his swelling flesh, all before he realized she’d answered in Antivan. You said you didn’t know - but the thought instantly faded again, because it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that it was a yes.
Still, he remembered quickly, no matter how long he had waited, she deserved more from him than to be pounced on with a puppy’s eagerness. She had Alistair for that. From her babbo she should have skill and patience. He checked the impulse to bite into her shoulder in favor of slow, sultry kisses along the side of her neck, ending with a long sigh in her ear as he began to unfasten her robe. She shivered and tilted her head for him, resting her hands on his hips. Better, as his mouth worked along her jawline, she gave a gentle tug at the hem of his shirt.
After lowering her robe off of her arms and listening to the satisfying slump of the fabric onto the floor, he took her hands in his and guided them through taking off his shirt. Slowly, kindly, measuring her responses - she was not a virgin, but all of her experience was of one man with no greater knowledge than hers, and taking one’s second lover ever carried its own set of fears. By the time she took a third, if that ever happened, she would be much surer of herself.
But it would not happen, of course. Not without at least one of her first two present. There was no other man to be trusted with her alone.
He made short work of her smallclothes as his lips finally closed over hers, and their bare chests came together, warm and smooth. He’d acclimated to human women lately, and she was little even for elves, sweet and delicate and...yes, and trembling slightly. Precisely the response he had always both longed for and feared, depending on what came next.
“Dolcezza,” he whispered into her ear, cradling her head in his hand. She understood well enough to smile a little for him. “Only if it is what you want. Only if you trust me.”
She nodded with her forehead against his shoulder, sighing onto his skin. “I trust you. I want you.”
A little alarming in itself what a relief that was, how much pleasure he got just from the words, even knowing he’d just been the one to warn her that this would be serious. He smiled as he teased at her earlobe with his teeth. “Si? Sei mia cocca?”
She giggled and flushed a little. “Si, Babbo.” Softly, she kissed the shoulder she was leaning against, awakening the bare skin even more.
He bit back the ravenous response his instincts asked for first, and instead looked down into her gentle face and grinned. “Then go and sit down on the bed for me.”
Another blush, a tiny nod and smile, and she walked slowly away from him and sat on the bed facing him. He waited for a few seconds and then followed at a leisurely pace, providing time for him to soak in the sight of all her pale golden flesh, and to watch her study the darker gold of his, especially as he finished undressing. The latter was almost more fun than the former - for the first time, she admired, allowing herself to really look at him and let her response show in her face.
Of course, he supposed that the same was true of himself. Maker, she was almost too delicious to bear, especially when he stepped close and she turned her face up toward his, biting her lip. He had to stop to take her head into both his hands and gaze down into her dark eyes. The smile he gave her felt almost as dangerously vulnerable as hers looked. “What is your desire, piccola?”
“Teach me what you want.”
Such an innocent, gracious answer. Still watching her eyes, he reached down and guided one of her hands onto him. Still watching his, she slid her fingers up and down his length almost too gently, and unconsciously he rocked his hips in time with her a little. He moved the hand still on her cheek, sliding one finger over her lips and pushing it into her mouth, testing. She took it in without protest, but her face did not register any connection.
Apparently Alistair was very slow to experiment beyond what Zev told him about explicitly. He wanted to guide Philoméne, but in a way that honored the purity of their arrangement by being a bit less...candid. “Just so,” he whispered, letting his finger move gently in response to her tongue, “but elsewhere.” Her eyes registered partial understanding, and he nodded, bringing his hand around behind her head and gently encouraging her downward. She breathed deep and kissed the tip very softly before yielding her whole mouth to him. A wave of pleasure swept through him at once, and he guided her in a slow rhythm with both hips and hand, neither too fast nor too deep, while she learned how to close her lips and tongue around him for best effect.
She seemed to learn so quickly -
Ah, it was like coming upon a banquet while starving. He wanted to be able to have everything at once and could not. He would have to take everything in little samples, one at a time. With some regret he pulled away from her mouth and bent down to kiss her, deeply now, enough to make her sigh a little. When he got the impression that she was prepared to settle into kissing for some time, he instead started working his way down her jaw and neck, languorously slow, his hands moving down a bit ahead of his mouth to warm her skin. She tried to fall back, but he wrapped his arms around her to hold her upright, and she moaned in weak protest.
She was already losing all resistance to him: he was tasting the first subtle shift when she found the voice to “warn” him. “Zev - ”
“Babbo,” he corrected her, barely raising his mouth from her nipple.
She whimpered and laced her fingers in his hair. “Babbo,” she echoed, her voice pleading. “I’m...a mage. I....”
“Yes, true enough.” He circled both nipples with his thumbs while he spoke. “And so you fear that when you come you will hit me with...what, do you think?” He glanced up into her surprised eyes, grinning a little at the thought that she had imagined he would not know such a thing.
“...Lightning.”
He nodded. “Of course lightning. That is not bad at all. In fact it could be rather pleasant.” He gave her a wider smile to put her at ease. “All the same, as I do not have Alistair’s talents, for our mutual protection we will...hmm. Let us make a game of it, yes?” With that, he lifted her hands and placed them on top of her head, which made her giggle. “Keep your hands there. No moving them, cocca.”
Once the rules were established, he gently pushed her knees apart and knelt between them as he resumed his slow downward march of conquest. Almost at once, he had to grab her upright again and add the rule “and no lying down until I tell you.” At that she unleashed an entertaining fugue of whining, laughing, moaning, and rocking under the effort of following his rules.
And that was before he had reached his ultimate target - slowly, after several nips and licks to her thighs. He parted her lips with his tongue and then drew tortuous spirals, pinning her writhing legs under his arms. Feeling the tension under her skin and tasting the faint hint of electricity made him grin, and he dug his fingers into her thighs in delight. Wailing, she fell back, which he might have forgiven if in sitting back up again, she had not grabbed desperately at his hair.
He stopped licking at once and caught hold of both her wrists. “All the rules broken at once! Tsk tsk tsk.” As he was shaking his head at her, her eyes rounded with real chagrin, which while charming must not be allowed to go too far. “Then I will have to take control of you myself, birichina,” he grinned. With that he surged to his feet, pushing her back onto the mattress and rolling her over onto her stomach.
That provoked a startled laugh. “Ze - Babbo - ”
“Hmm?” He tugged her arms away as she tried to push herself up and crossed them behind her back, taking her wrists firmly in hand again. With his free hand, he slowly caressed and pinched at her ass until she gave up the struggle in favor of heavy breathing and sinking into the mattress. His fingers slipped into her, and he leaned close, watching her eyes fall mostly shut and her lips slightly open. “Hmm? Shall I take charge or not?” She was close to gone: he sealed it by tracing her shoulder with his tongue. “Si? No?”
The last trace of struggle left her with a shudder. “Si,” she whispered.
He slid into her easily, but she still moaned as if it were all she could bear. The intensity took him by surprise as well, even though he’d waited so long and come to terms with the fact that he had been, in fact, pining. His loud sigh called an answering whine out of her, which in turn compelled him to gentle bites across her back to accompany his thrusts. Even though he’d positioned her awkwardly on purpose, he could still feel her trying to angle herself up toward him - which really only made her position even more awkward.
“Ssh,” he hissed, and reached up for her hair with his free hand, pulling her head back. “Be still,cocca.”
She relaxed into his grip, and at this vantage point he was able to watch her face. She did trust him. She was so far gone into sensation that he doubted she could form a coherent thought. The degree of surrender in her face was unspeakably beautiful, comparable only to the feeling of being inside her while seeing it. Her every breath was a soft moan, and there was a soft magical gleam and an electrical tang to her skin, and yet still there was something more that he wanted.
He withdrew for a moment and gently urged her to turn onto her back, raising her arms above her head and pinning her wrists with one hand. It would not be enough to bind her magic had she wanted to do him harm, but it would make her feel protected from doing it accidentally. His free hand roamed slowly down her body, freely admiring all it touched on its way to her hip. Once he had taken hold of her there he re-entered her, slowly, his new rhythm long and deep like the kiss that accompanied it. She answered hungrily, with more sweet, stifled whimpers.
Even so, he broke the kiss for a moment to look into her face. Yes. It was there, the thing he had needed, that had been missing from a thousand other trysts both pleasant and mediocre: eyes gazing through him into his soul and still wanting him. His own desire wrapping around not only a body but its person, and being answered in kind.
He had been keeping her near the edge, and he felt perilously close to it himself. A slight nudging open of her thighs, a small adjustment to the angle of his thrust, and her sounds and struggles became desperate. Little sparks danced over her shoulders as he abandoned the “safety” hold and threw his arms around her to gain the speed and depth he was suddenly so desperate for. Her body tightened around him, his drove and shook, and for a moment they clung to one another almost too tightly to breathe.
At first the sense of stillness within him was profound. It was incredible, everything he had ever dared to - and then he realized he had no idea what he was supposed to do next. His instincts were well developed on when to stay or to go in the face of casual friendliness, indifference, secrecy, unspoken revulsion… but this was uncharted ground.
Fortunately, she made the decision for him by gentling her embrace without dropping it and cuddling into his shoulder. When he moved off and beside her, she settled in at once, breath deep and eyes closed, as if she had every intention of drifting off to sleep in the crook of his arm.
He smiled a little, tentatively, and draped his free arm over her. “This would seem to mean you are content for me to stay,” he whispered.
She grinned, eyes still closed. “It would that.” One half-opened and regarded him thoughtfully. “If you’re willing.”
Still measuring each other. He chuckled a little. “I am quite willing. Though I must warn you, if I am with you this way all night, I will almost certainly disturb your rest again.”
“I doubt I would object.” Eyes closed again, she sighed and snuggled close to him, her limbs entangled with his, her warm breath on his throat.
He smiled as his fingertips slowly circled on her side. His heart was shockingly peaceful and full, and the word almost was already disappearing from his mind.
Return to Phi's Index
Words: 3528
Rating: M for sexings
Characters: Alistair/f!Surana (Philoméne)/Zevran
…yeah, that’s right. You heard me.
Summary: If you’ve been following the story, I just told you where we are. If not, this is a good place to jump in if you like elf sex. If you need it, there is a brief explanation and disclaimer of the term "Babbo" here.
[ETA: Curses! I forgot to put in my heartfelt dedication of this chapter to
aithne , whose depiction of "Babbo" Zev on Formspring becomes a major element in his character as of this point. Yay!]
<-Previous: You Only Had to Say
She didn’t need another assassin. For that matter, she also didn’t need another lost heir of a fallen noble house. Both of those posts were taken by men better suited to them, who would also never dream of touching her without -
He had promised not to dwell on it, as long as he was not alone with her again.
Zevran slowly swirled a pair of practice sticks from finger to finger as he whispered the verse from Transfigurations to himself. “You are the fire at the heart of the world, and comfort is only Yours to give.”
The pairing of finger exercise and prayer was an old one he had learned from an aged Antivan master not of his lineage, in exchange for a few hours of his own youthful beauty. It had kept his hands limber and his mind clear through any number of trials.
You are the fire at the heart of the world…
She’d agreed to his terms. He had no reason to doubt her word: she would keep it, even if she still didn’t understand his insistence. On such occasions as this, her stubborn innocence could be as maddening as it was beautiful. All the more reason she had to be kept safe from the kinds of peril she was blind to.
And Nathaniel was gone, and Zevran had Philoméne’s word, and Oghren’s and Anders’ eyes out for trouble as well as his own, and so she was safe. End of discussion.
…and comfort is only Yours to give.
After a while he put the sticks down and merely stood leaned into the wall opposite his door, letting the prayer echo further and further back into his head, leaving quiet in its wake. He was just starting to really breathe the peace in when he heard the footsteps outside. No signs of trying to go unheard, so he remained where he was, at ease. Most likely it was some messenger with -
It was Philoméne. She had never come to see him in his own quarters before, but now here she was, and she closed the door behind her and regarded him with a strangely uncertain look.
“My Warden,” he said amiably, straightening up so as not to be leaning against the wall. “What is your desire?”
She looked restless; she stopped only a pace away from him, then crossed her arms and shifted back and forth as she spoke. “I need to understand why you stopped trying.”
“Stopped trying?”
“To bed me.”
What in the world was she - he was almost not quick enough to keep the shock out of his face. His right hand slowly clenched and unclenched as he exerted his self-control over everything else. “Because you asked me to stop, as I recall. Cajoling a woman into bed is one thing, but harassing her is another.”
She nodded and relaxed a little, as if it had been a real answer to a real question, rather than a statement of something she knew perfectly well. “Still, I was surprised that you never tried again. It wasn’t because you stopped wanting me?”
His hand clenched and stayed clenched, and even so he was concerned that his casual facade was going to fail him. “Are you sure this is a subject you want to discuss, my Warden?”
Not only did she nod again, she stepped closer to him. And she might… she might be asking because Alistair had spoken to her, and the question might be a prelude to her telling him where he was to stand now that they both knew. He needed to measure his - Maker, those soft dark eyes of hers - still so innocent after all they had been through. No one in Ferelden could resist those eyes.
“No,” he breathed. “It was not because I stopped wanting you. You are in love with Alistair, and I did not want to disturb something so beautiful.”
She laid a hand over his heart, and it lurched in his chest. He leaned back against the wall, suddenly in need of the support. “You are putting me in a terrible position, you know,” he whispered. “If your purpose is only to test my resolve, it may not be wise to tempt me too far.”
Her delicious lips pouted. “I’m just confusing you, aren’t I? That’s not what I wanted.” All the same, her fingertips traced down the center of his chest in a way that only made it worse. He was already fighting his instincts when she said, “I talked to Alistair. We agreed.”
His hands were pressed against the wall. “Agreed to what? Maker’s breath, piccola. You need to be clear. To act on guesses will make a villain of me if I am wrong.”
In response she put both hands on him, on his shoulders, and gave him a plaintive look. “You’ve taken such good care of me, and I’ve been so ungrateful. I’ve known what you needed in return and refused to give it to you. I’m sorry.” She touched her soft lips against his, maddeningly delicate, and he had to pull her against him by the waist, tugging her in with a force that made her gasp.
But then he managed to rein himself again, allowing himself only a slow tracing of her bottom lip with his tongue before he pulled his head back to speak. “It is too late for this to be a casual affair,” he warned her. Already one hand had run hungrily up her back, and he brought it to rest on the side of her face, to keep her dark eyes looking at his so she would know how serious he was. “Do not begin this if you mean it to be only a token of gratitude. Or a curiosity. I… cannot bear that now, from you.” His eyes probed hers for any sign of hesitation. After all this time, he had to be sure.
“That is not my intention; it is not my nature. I didn’t - I would not have made you wait and prove yourself so long if it were. I am.” There she paused, but her look was more shyness than doubt. “Serious.”
“And you and Alistair have spoken. You have agreed that you both desire this. I have no wish to cause contention between you.” She nodded, and still his mind kept racing, wondering whether this could still perhaps be some sort of delusion on his part. To his own disbelief, he tested one last time, against his most fantastical wishes. “Then I am also serious. I must be your babbo or nothing.”
Her stance against his chest was soft, compliant. “I don’t know what that means.”
“It means I want to take care of you.” He traced his fingertips along her cheekbone, then down the lines of that side of her tattoo. “To protect you, to guide you through the parts of the world you do not understand. I want you to trust me completely.”
Her smile was sweet enough to break his heart. “That doesn’t sound any different.”
“Completely. That would involve actually listening to my advice.” He allowed himself to slide his cheek against hers, bringing his mouth down toward the nape of her neck. “And giving me much more latitude in certain other things.”
“Well, of course that.” She seemed to tremble a little bit against him, but her arms wrapped around him tenderly. “Acconsento, Babbo.”
His body responded more quickly than his head; he gasped and then smothered his gasp by pressing his lips to her throat, and grabbed her tight against his swelling flesh, all before he realized she’d answered in Antivan. You said you didn’t know - but the thought instantly faded again, because it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that it was a yes.
Still, he remembered quickly, no matter how long he had waited, she deserved more from him than to be pounced on with a puppy’s eagerness. She had Alistair for that. From her babbo she should have skill and patience. He checked the impulse to bite into her shoulder in favor of slow, sultry kisses along the side of her neck, ending with a long sigh in her ear as he began to unfasten her robe. She shivered and tilted her head for him, resting her hands on his hips. Better, as his mouth worked along her jawline, she gave a gentle tug at the hem of his shirt.
After lowering her robe off of her arms and listening to the satisfying slump of the fabric onto the floor, he took her hands in his and guided them through taking off his shirt. Slowly, kindly, measuring her responses - she was not a virgin, but all of her experience was of one man with no greater knowledge than hers, and taking one’s second lover ever carried its own set of fears. By the time she took a third, if that ever happened, she would be much surer of herself.
But it would not happen, of course. Not without at least one of her first two present. There was no other man to be trusted with her alone.
He made short work of her smallclothes as his lips finally closed over hers, and their bare chests came together, warm and smooth. He’d acclimated to human women lately, and she was little even for elves, sweet and delicate and...yes, and trembling slightly. Precisely the response he had always both longed for and feared, depending on what came next.
“Dolcezza,” he whispered into her ear, cradling her head in his hand. She understood well enough to smile a little for him. “Only if it is what you want. Only if you trust me.”
She nodded with her forehead against his shoulder, sighing onto his skin. “I trust you. I want you.”
A little alarming in itself what a relief that was, how much pleasure he got just from the words, even knowing he’d just been the one to warn her that this would be serious. He smiled as he teased at her earlobe with his teeth. “Si? Sei mia cocca?”
She giggled and flushed a little. “Si, Babbo.” Softly, she kissed the shoulder she was leaning against, awakening the bare skin even more.
He bit back the ravenous response his instincts asked for first, and instead looked down into her gentle face and grinned. “Then go and sit down on the bed for me.”
Another blush, a tiny nod and smile, and she walked slowly away from him and sat on the bed facing him. He waited for a few seconds and then followed at a leisurely pace, providing time for him to soak in the sight of all her pale golden flesh, and to watch her study the darker gold of his, especially as he finished undressing. The latter was almost more fun than the former - for the first time, she admired, allowing herself to really look at him and let her response show in her face.
Of course, he supposed that the same was true of himself. Maker, she was almost too delicious to bear, especially when he stepped close and she turned her face up toward his, biting her lip. He had to stop to take her head into both his hands and gaze down into her dark eyes. The smile he gave her felt almost as dangerously vulnerable as hers looked. “What is your desire, piccola?”
“Teach me what you want.”
Such an innocent, gracious answer. Still watching her eyes, he reached down and guided one of her hands onto him. Still watching his, she slid her fingers up and down his length almost too gently, and unconsciously he rocked his hips in time with her a little. He moved the hand still on her cheek, sliding one finger over her lips and pushing it into her mouth, testing. She took it in without protest, but her face did not register any connection.
Apparently Alistair was very slow to experiment beyond what Zev told him about explicitly. He wanted to guide Philoméne, but in a way that honored the purity of their arrangement by being a bit less...candid. “Just so,” he whispered, letting his finger move gently in response to her tongue, “but elsewhere.” Her eyes registered partial understanding, and he nodded, bringing his hand around behind her head and gently encouraging her downward. She breathed deep and kissed the tip very softly before yielding her whole mouth to him. A wave of pleasure swept through him at once, and he guided her in a slow rhythm with both hips and hand, neither too fast nor too deep, while she learned how to close her lips and tongue around him for best effect.
She seemed to learn so quickly -
Ah, it was like coming upon a banquet while starving. He wanted to be able to have everything at once and could not. He would have to take everything in little samples, one at a time. With some regret he pulled away from her mouth and bent down to kiss her, deeply now, enough to make her sigh a little. When he got the impression that she was prepared to settle into kissing for some time, he instead started working his way down her jaw and neck, languorously slow, his hands moving down a bit ahead of his mouth to warm her skin. She tried to fall back, but he wrapped his arms around her to hold her upright, and she moaned in weak protest.
She was already losing all resistance to him: he was tasting the first subtle shift when she found the voice to “warn” him. “Zev - ”
“Babbo,” he corrected her, barely raising his mouth from her nipple.
She whimpered and laced her fingers in his hair. “Babbo,” she echoed, her voice pleading. “I’m...a mage. I....”
“Yes, true enough.” He circled both nipples with his thumbs while he spoke. “And so you fear that when you come you will hit me with...what, do you think?” He glanced up into her surprised eyes, grinning a little at the thought that she had imagined he would not know such a thing.
“...Lightning.”
He nodded. “Of course lightning. That is not bad at all. In fact it could be rather pleasant.” He gave her a wider smile to put her at ease. “All the same, as I do not have Alistair’s talents, for our mutual protection we will...hmm. Let us make a game of it, yes?” With that, he lifted her hands and placed them on top of her head, which made her giggle. “Keep your hands there. No moving them, cocca.”
Once the rules were established, he gently pushed her knees apart and knelt between them as he resumed his slow downward march of conquest. Almost at once, he had to grab her upright again and add the rule “and no lying down until I tell you.” At that she unleashed an entertaining fugue of whining, laughing, moaning, and rocking under the effort of following his rules.
And that was before he had reached his ultimate target - slowly, after several nips and licks to her thighs. He parted her lips with his tongue and then drew tortuous spirals, pinning her writhing legs under his arms. Feeling the tension under her skin and tasting the faint hint of electricity made him grin, and he dug his fingers into her thighs in delight. Wailing, she fell back, which he might have forgiven if in sitting back up again, she had not grabbed desperately at his hair.
He stopped licking at once and caught hold of both her wrists. “All the rules broken at once! Tsk tsk tsk.” As he was shaking his head at her, her eyes rounded with real chagrin, which while charming must not be allowed to go too far. “Then I will have to take control of you myself, birichina,” he grinned. With that he surged to his feet, pushing her back onto the mattress and rolling her over onto her stomach.
That provoked a startled laugh. “Ze - Babbo - ”
“Hmm?” He tugged her arms away as she tried to push herself up and crossed them behind her back, taking her wrists firmly in hand again. With his free hand, he slowly caressed and pinched at her ass until she gave up the struggle in favor of heavy breathing and sinking into the mattress. His fingers slipped into her, and he leaned close, watching her eyes fall mostly shut and her lips slightly open. “Hmm? Shall I take charge or not?” She was close to gone: he sealed it by tracing her shoulder with his tongue. “Si? No?”
The last trace of struggle left her with a shudder. “Si,” she whispered.
He slid into her easily, but she still moaned as if it were all she could bear. The intensity took him by surprise as well, even though he’d waited so long and come to terms with the fact that he had been, in fact, pining. His loud sigh called an answering whine out of her, which in turn compelled him to gentle bites across her back to accompany his thrusts. Even though he’d positioned her awkwardly on purpose, he could still feel her trying to angle herself up toward him - which really only made her position even more awkward.
“Ssh,” he hissed, and reached up for her hair with his free hand, pulling her head back. “Be still,cocca.”
She relaxed into his grip, and at this vantage point he was able to watch her face. She did trust him. She was so far gone into sensation that he doubted she could form a coherent thought. The degree of surrender in her face was unspeakably beautiful, comparable only to the feeling of being inside her while seeing it. Her every breath was a soft moan, and there was a soft magical gleam and an electrical tang to her skin, and yet still there was something more that he wanted.
He withdrew for a moment and gently urged her to turn onto her back, raising her arms above her head and pinning her wrists with one hand. It would not be enough to bind her magic had she wanted to do him harm, but it would make her feel protected from doing it accidentally. His free hand roamed slowly down her body, freely admiring all it touched on its way to her hip. Once he had taken hold of her there he re-entered her, slowly, his new rhythm long and deep like the kiss that accompanied it. She answered hungrily, with more sweet, stifled whimpers.
Even so, he broke the kiss for a moment to look into her face. Yes. It was there, the thing he had needed, that had been missing from a thousand other trysts both pleasant and mediocre: eyes gazing through him into his soul and still wanting him. His own desire wrapping around not only a body but its person, and being answered in kind.
He had been keeping her near the edge, and he felt perilously close to it himself. A slight nudging open of her thighs, a small adjustment to the angle of his thrust, and her sounds and struggles became desperate. Little sparks danced over her shoulders as he abandoned the “safety” hold and threw his arms around her to gain the speed and depth he was suddenly so desperate for. Her body tightened around him, his drove and shook, and for a moment they clung to one another almost too tightly to breathe.
At first the sense of stillness within him was profound. It was incredible, everything he had ever dared to - and then he realized he had no idea what he was supposed to do next. His instincts were well developed on when to stay or to go in the face of casual friendliness, indifference, secrecy, unspoken revulsion… but this was uncharted ground.
Fortunately, she made the decision for him by gentling her embrace without dropping it and cuddling into his shoulder. When he moved off and beside her, she settled in at once, breath deep and eyes closed, as if she had every intention of drifting off to sleep in the crook of his arm.
He smiled a little, tentatively, and draped his free arm over her. “This would seem to mean you are content for me to stay,” he whispered.
She grinned, eyes still closed. “It would that.” One half-opened and regarded him thoughtfully. “If you’re willing.”
Still measuring each other. He chuckled a little. “I am quite willing. Though I must warn you, if I am with you this way all night, I will almost certainly disturb your rest again.”
“I doubt I would object.” Eyes closed again, she sighed and snuggled close to him, her limbs entangled with his, her warm breath on his throat.
He smiled as his fingertips slowly circled on her side. His heart was shockingly peaceful and full, and the word almost was already disappearing from his mind.
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