fic: a midwinter illumination

[w0rdinista]

Title: A Midwinter Illumination
Word count: 7331
Author(s): w0rdinista and the eloquent  pagerunner_j
Characters: Alistair, Elinora Cousland ... and Anders.  (Yep, you read that right.)
Rating: M (and boy-howdy, do we ever mean it this time)
Pairing: Cousland/Alistair/Anders (which isn't so much a pairing as a threesome... cough.)
Summary: It's eight years after the Archdemon's defeat, eight years after--- oh, y'all know this part already. ;)  In all seriousness, though, with so many people asking us who's going to show up next, we couldn't resist taking a peek ahead to consider what might happen if certain people did arrive.  And of course, once tahara_l  mentioned a little something when one thread turned to discussion of a certain mage, our path seemed clear.  Smutty and very, very NSFW, but clear.  We make no guarantees that this would happen... but we're pretty sure Anders wouldn't object.


"So, Elinora, tell me something," Alistair asked, sinking bonelessly into the chair, stretching long legs out before him. The fire was roaring, its heat blazing outwards in wave after wave of relaxing warmth. Beyond the library's closed doors, the sounds of music, of laughter, of holiday revelry spun together in a distant, but comforting din.

Elinora dropped to the carpet and groaned, even as she leant back on one elbow and looked up at Alistair, smirking. "Oh, here we go," she said, eyes twinkling with fondness and exasperation both.

"What? I haven't even said anything yet!"

"Yet," she echoed, archly. "I know that tone. That tone is the one that accompanies loaded questions like, 'So what do you think of our traveling companions?'"

"Well, that's a rather foolish waste of time. I know perfectly well what she thinks of me, thank you very much," Anders retorted from the chair he'd claimed and was now draped comfortably in.

"Do you, now?" Alistair asked, arching an eyebrow at the mage. "Are you quite sure? Perhaps she's been keeping things from you. She's sneaky that way, the little minx."

"Fairly sure," Anders replied, lazily, "considering the number of times so many others have told me I'm more trouble than I'm worth."

Alistair fixed Elinora with a look that was both unreadable and worrying. "Go on," he prompted Anders, never looking away from Elinora.

"Well," the mage considered, frowning faintly, "she could easily have marched me off with the templars, for a start. She'd had more than a few opportunities to do just that, actually."

"Liked having him around, did you?" Alistair asked, shooting Elinora a sly look, his voice lowering slightly, dipping into registers that wreaked havoc with her nerves.

Elinora felt her cheeks flame - she knew precisely what Alistair was implying, and with a regal incline of her head, she finally replied. "I found his skills to be invaluable," was all she said, the pinnacle of impartiality.

"And, come to think of it," Anders went on, "she never took issue with my sense of humor -- and believe me when I tell you, she was in the minority." He shot her a lopsided grin. "But that only means the lady has exquisite and refined taste."

"I see," Alistair drawled. "My, doesn't that sound familiar, Elinora?"

"Alistair," Elinora said sharply, twisting around and leaning on her hip to face him. "I believe that's quite enough."

"I'm only making conversation, my lady," he replied, but mischief was alight in his eyes, and she cast a cautious glance over at Anders, who was watching them both, looking incredibly intrigued, despite himself.

"Anything else?" he asked Anders.

A long moment passed between the two before Anders finally spoke. "What are you getting at, I wonder?"

"What makes you think I'm 'getting at' anything?"

"Well, the way Elinora looks fit to bite through her cheek, for one." Anders' brows furrowed. "Or hit you. That's generally a look that presages pain."

Alistair spread his hands and smiled, and Elinora was almost - almost convinced that this was nothing more than friendly conversation. "You two seem to be excellent... friends," he said, placing peculiar emphasis on that last word.

"I suppose you could say th-" And then the light of comprehension dawned. "Ohh, no. No," Anders said, laughing, "you are most sorely mistaken on that score, ser."

Alistair was grinning now. "I'm sure I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, sure you don't." Anders shot a look at Elinora. "Is he serious?" Anders gave his head a hard shake. "Not that the idea never crossed my mind..."

"Wait, what?" Elinora asked, sitting up suddenly. "I beg your pardon?"

"Well," he began, sending her a smile that shot straight down her spine and made something flip dangerously in her belly, "I confess, begging did come into the equation at some of the more colorful points."

"Anders!"

Anders leveled a smirk at her. "Oh, come now. I only thought about it. This mage doesn't dip his staff in the company lyrium, thank you. And besides, as I remember it, you were rather... distracted with certain other individuals, hmm?"

"Oh, let's not start that again," Elinora said under her breath.

"It was entertaining listening to you two work out that little revelation, I have to say," Anders said, rubbing his fingers across the arm of his chair. "Alistair wears jealousy well. He gets all glowery and imposing and he looms -- there, see, you're doing it now."

"I'm not looming, for Andraste's sake. I'm sitting down."

"Yes, well, you're certainly glowering."

"Not out of jealousy."

"Really?" Anders said, giving him a teasing smirk. "Should I be worrying about the big bad templar out to get me after all, then?"

Alistair groaned, tilting his head back. "Honestly, how many times do I have to say it, I'm not…."

"He taught me every trick he's got, you know," Elinora said to Anders, interrupting Alistair's exasperated sigh. "I could do just as much damage. Yet you never once came over all 'ooh, she's going to smite me, whatever shall I do' at me. Why?"

Anders smiled lazily. "You like me too much," he said.

Despite the assessment, Elinora wished she had something she could throw at him.

"In fact," Anders went on, "that brings us quite neatly back around to the topic at hand, doesn't it? Secret affections, hidden desires…."

"'Desires' might be putting it a mite strongly…."

"Hah. That leaves room for some emotion still existing, though. What could it be?"

"Perhaps indigestion?" Alistair said lightly.

Anders, for his part, did find something to throw: a scrap of wadded-up paper from a nearby desk, which Alistair batted aside with an amused-sounding snort. It landed in the fire, where it began to uncurl, with red heat limning its edges.

"I propose a deal," Anders said. "If we're all so certain we know better than the others what everyone here actually thinks of each other, let's get some things out in the open. Just… some friendly sharing.   Harmless, really."

"Oh, this will end in tears," Elinora said under her breath.

"And to begin," he went on, picking something that of course was much less harmless than advertised, "each of us has to admit one thing we find attractive about someone else in this room. Something we've never spoken aloud before."

Elinora raised her eyebrows. Alistair took it in stride. "Can I confess my deep and abiding love for the deer head mounted on the wall, then?" he said, turning to face it. "It has such soulful eyes…."

"Someone living," Anders said. "And human. No professing love to a wandering mouse or anything."

"We do not have mice!" Elinora said, insulted. Anders only smirked again.

"Ser Pounce-a-Lot's hardly been complaining for food, which ought to tell you something," he said. "Come on, now. I proposed it; it's only fair that I begin. So. Elinora."

To her embarrassment, she suddenly froze, feeling like a rabbit sighted by a circling hawk. Anders watched her just as intently, his eyes roving over her before he spoke.

"I said I'd thought about being with you," he told her. "Mostly while following you on one trek or other. I got a good, long look at those gorgeous hips of yours. Your backside. Your legs. Quite the view. I became fond of it. Is he looming yet?"

Elinora could see that Alistair had indeed leaned forward a little, frowning. She wasn't sure whether to blush, to smite Anders after all, or to laugh. "That he is."

"You wouldn't be the first to appreciate that view," Alistair said, a bit possessively. "Also, you can't count. That was three things."

"Yes, well. I never paid much attention in lessons unless it involved fireballs or pretty lights." He nodded at Elinora. "Your turn."

After a quick glance at Alistair and consideration of options, she decided to get her own back instead. "Your mouth, Anders," she said decisively, watching it as it opened ever so slightly in surprise. "That lovely, sly, smart mouth of yours. The things it does to words, really. Can't even describe." And just as the color began to rise in Anders' face, and as Alistair began to twitch, she added, "And it always looked so soft and tempting when you slept." She paused for effect. "At least until you started to drool."

Alistair snickered, and Elinora ducked the second scrap-paper projectile. "You're going to have to try harder than that," she chided Anders, who was reaching for another. "Trained warrior here. I've evaded and then conquered forces far cleverer than you."

"And that's one of the things I love about you, Elinora," Alistair said, bringing her focus back to him. His voice had lowered again, to a rich, warm tone that settled in very pleasant places. "But then, you already know the things I love about you. Your mind. Your heart. Your body." She felt even warmer at the way he let that last word grind. Even Anders murmured under his breath, "Did it just get hotter in here?"

"But since I've already said all those things to you," Alistair went on, "that wouldn't suit at all for the deal, now would it. So if I'm to admit something else…."

He winked at Elinora, a subtle hint of shared conspiracy, and then gave Anders a long, speculative look.

"You really do have a marvelous mouth," he said.

Anders, briefly wordless, merely stared at him.

"And your hands," Alistair went on, to Elinora's great amusement. "Since Elinora covered your mouth already--"

"Not literally," Anders said, sounding almost regretful about that fact. Alistair pressed on.

"--I might as well say it: mages always have such nice hands. I suppose if you don't have to work them, after all--"

"Oh, don't underestimate us," Anders said, recovering a little. "We do put them to good use, after all. All that… handling and stroking of staffs."

Elinora choked back a laugh. She thought it was a laugh, in any case. It seemed to be accompanied by a deep, low tingle that had nothing whatsoever to do with giggling.

"Right," Alistair drawled. "Staffs. And your fingers seem quite nimble. Must be from all that…" He made a couple dramatic, blast-like gestures. "… zappity business."

"Zappity? All right, now you're just teasing me."

"You didn't think I was before?" Alistair said, with a perfectly unreadable smile.

"All right, boys," Elinora interrupted. "This is all… quite illuminating, but…."

"What?" Anders said, teasing her in turn. "You didn't know he had such… varied tastes?"

"Just pulling your chain," Alistair said, leaning back in his chair as if he didn't have a care in the world. That lasted for about three seconds. Then Elinora lost her mind.

"It seems a shame, really," she said, "not to put all these tidbits to some use."

Alistair's eyes widened again. After a few seconds of silence from all concerned, he finally ventured, "To… use with the what now?"

Anders started to laugh. "Oh, that was brilliant, Elinora. I was about to point out that no one's told Alistair what they like best about him yet, and that the poor little not-a-templar's going to get his feelings hurt, but that look - that one, right there - is what I've decided I like best about him."

Elinora smiled, shifting again and angling herself on the carpet, perfectly aware of the way the velvet clung to and draped along her body, and smiled up at him. "I said, Alistair, it seems a shame not to put all of this... enlightening information to good use."

Silence stretched out again, Alistair frowning faintly and looking at Elinora as if he were trying to gauge whether she was joking or not. In fact, the only sound in the room beyond the crackling fire, was the whisper of velvet as Elinora got to her feet and sauntered over to where Alistair sat, never breaking eye contact.

He took her hand and gently tugged her down onto his lap, his hands drifting absently over the curves he'd grown so possessive over. Alistair also still seemed to be watching her intently, turning over her words, trying to decide if she'd been serious. In truth, Elinora wasn't entirely sure whether she was serious or not.

"Are you worried," Alistair finally said, as he let one hand travel up her back, smiling when Elinora shivered and squirmed the moment his fingers slid from velvet to bare skin, "that the poor little mage might think no one likes him?"

Elinora's gaze slid over to Anders, who was watching them both raptly. Before she could answer, however, Alistair's mouth went to her neck and Elinora's lips parted in a gasp, her head tilting back at the shock of heat that shuddered through her, hips squirming as she arched her back.

"Do you think," he murmured against her neck, dropping soft, biting kisses against the skin, "he might be feeling... left out?"

His choice of words sent a ripple through her memories, enough to pull Elinora out of her bliss-drunk haze. She blinked slowly at him, before arching one eyebrow delicately upward. "What about boundaries?" she softly murmured, echoing Alistair's own words the last time they found themselves in such a position.

"Might be... interesting." And the way his voice dragged across that last word made something hot and urgent pulse beneath her skin.

"Interesting, he says." Elinora all but groaned as Alistair's tongue slid along her clavicle. "Like it's a good book... or a delicious pastry..."

Elinora turned her head slightly, enough to meet Alistair's gaze. Several seconds loaded with unspoken communication passed between them, when finally they both looked in the mage's direction.

"Actually," Anders' voice sounded uncharacteristically rough as he spoke up from across the room, "from where I'm sitting things are looking far more interesting than any book or pastry in Thedas."

Elinora's eyes dipped slightly, a smirk hovering at her lips. "Yes, I can see you think so."

Anders looked between them for a long moment, as if trying to decide whether they were serious or not. Finally, he shook his head and let out a soft chuckle. "Thank the Maker the templars never employed measures like these."

"Does that mean you're not interested?" Alistair asked.

"On the contrary," Anders replied, standing slowly, "it makes me shudder to consider what their success rate might've been."

Elinora held one hand out to him. Anders stepped closer, catching that hand in his and bringing it to his mouth for an almost chaste kiss. Then, with Elinora and Alistair both watching him, he drew two fingers into his mouth.

Elinora felt a little shudder travel through her limbs; Alistair held on tighter, bracing her while Anders dragged his tongue across her skin, teeth just barely scraping when he released her.

That move seemed to demand an answer, for Alistair immediately turned her head and kissed her, as if to show Anders exactly how it was done.

Elinora felt herself melt; her body curved and molded against him. Heat pulsed at every point they touched. And she was so preoccupied with the kiss -- a deep and searching one, possessing her mouth so thoroughly she felt bruised and tingling, and starved for air -- that Anders' touch on her shoulders came as a surprise.

The dress already left more of her skin bare than usual, but he was making short work of revealing the rest.

Elinora writhed in Alistair's lap, breaking away from the kiss and tensing up… but they both knew of those scars, she reminded herself; Anders had mended a number of these wounds himself. She closed her eyes and let herself feel his fingertips tracing over the marks left behind, one by one by one. He left fiery lines all across her skin before he reached up to undo her hair, letting it spill softly over her shoulders, whispering over each oversensitive inch. Then be began tugging at laces and straps, revealing yet more of her to everyone's sight, and making the velvet buckle beneath Alistair's hands.

She arched up again, until the fabric slid down over her breasts and she could pull her arms free of the sleeves, and Alistair's familiar, calloused palm came up to cover one instead-- and a different hand entirely curled around to touch the other.

Elinora's head fell back against Anders' chest, a helpless gasp falling from her lips. She felt him bend to kiss her forehead even while those long, clever fingers -- oh, Maker, but had Alistair been right -- caressed and teased her. She tingled seemingly everywhere.

She could also feel the evidence of each man's desire beyond doubt, and it was making her breathless.

"Elinora," Anders murmured. "I want to kiss you."

He was kissing whatever he could already -- his lips pressing against her hair, mouth and tongue softly exploring her ear -- but Elinora realized all at once that she wanted to know just as much as he did how it would feel to have his mouth on hers. "Alistair," she murmured. "Let me turn around."

He seemed to hesitate, but soon nodded, scooting back in the chair so she could twist around and sit back to front. Alistair seemed to immediately grasp the advantages of the position. His hands began stroking her freely, sliding lower than before, and his mouth met her shoulder, sucking at the skin there, softly biting. Anders took one look at the display and groaned low in his throat. Then he went to his knees before her and took her face between his hands in one smooth motion. Soon she could feel the hot, urgent swipe of his tongue; when she answered it with her own, she swore she could feel the crackle of a wayward spark dancing across her skin.

Magic, she thought, startled, just as Alistair pushed back with a small, warning pulse. Anders laughed into her mouth before he pulled back.

"Don't like that?" he said, his voice throaty and deep. So was Alistair's when he answered.

"You could hurt her."

"Oh, no. Never enough to hurt." Anders paused, letting the next words slide out with a suggestive tilt. "Only enough to make things interesting."

He reached up, but not to touch Elinora as she'd expected. His fingers lighted instead on Alistair's jaw.

Anders moved forward a little, pausing only long enough to telegraph a knowing, mischievous look Elinora's way before pressing against her completely, his free hand sliding down to the curve of her hip, where the bodice of her dress had gathered, fingers stroking the skin there. After a moment, Elinora felt another little jolt and spark, making her gasp in no way unpleasantly. Even after the tingling faded, it made her skin even more sensitive, so that the pressure of his hand and the slide of the fabric all increased in intensity.

"See?" he drawled, pressing a kiss against her shoulder, his teeth lightly teasing the skin.

Elinora twisted a fraction, the result of which was only to press herself more firmly against Anders' chest as she looked over her shoulder at Alistair. He was still regarding the mage somewhat guardedly.

"It's fine," she said softly, one hand sliding down to find one of Alistair's hands cradling her ribcage, and to squeeze it gently. "It feels..." Here, she cleared her throat. "Good."

It was difficult to tell if Alistair was convinced or not, as he only gave the barest nod. Anders, however, now seemed satisfied that he wasn't going to be smote at any point in the near future, and so leaned closer, pressing Elinora even more firmly between himself and Alistair. With only the barest smirk, he closed his mouth over Alistair's in a kiss.

Elinora heard the crackle of sparks, though only barely - it was difficult to hear anything over the pounding of her pulse and her own ragged gasp - but she felt it too, the way Anders' magic danced and tingled across her skin; she could only assume Alistair felt it as well, for his breathing had sped up and she was nearly certain she could feel his heart thundering away in his chest. Though incredibly tense for a moment, Alistair soon began battling for dominance in the kiss.

Now she could hear everything; she couldn't help it, as close as they were. Every urgent, wordless sound echoed through her, and when their kiss built momentum and Alistair's grip tightened on Elinora's body, she heard herself add her own moan. Despite being trapped between them as she was, Elinora found her hips squirming and twisting as heat continued to build and thrum throughout her limbs. It was in the midst of this writhing that Elinora's leg shifted, sliding against Anders' body just-so, and rubbing with maddening slowness against the erection beneath his robes. She felt his breath stutter, giving way to a deep moan into Alistair's mouth before pulling away and looking at her, his face pleasantly flushed, his light eyes unusually dark.

"He was right: you are a little minx." Anders sounded not at all displeased about this revelation.

Elinora's own smile was enigmatic. "I've no idea what you mean," she murmured, dipping her head to nuzzle Anders' neck, smiling at the way the bare shadow of beard growth scratched and scraped against her lips. From behind her, she heard Alistair's chuckle, deep and husky, as he pushed the curtain of her hair over her shoulder, baring her back. The warmth of his mouth pressed against the nape of her neck, sending gooseflesh rippling all across her skin as he slowly worked downward. With every gasp and shiver Alistair pulled from Elinora, Anders let out a low, soft laugh, his own hands roaming Elinora's body, waves of magic trailing in their wake.

After a few moments of this, Elinora felt herself being gently guided back until she was flush against Alistair, her head resting lightly on his shoulder. Sending him a lazy smile, Elinora brought one hand up, sliding it into his hair and pulling him down for a slow, deep kiss. She felt instantly lost in sensation and the way the kiss grew more demanding, almost possessive. Amidst this was when she felt the warmth of Anders' mouth close upon one aching nipple, tongue and teeth expertly teasing her, and a shuddering moan rippled through Elinora, ending almost on a whimper.

Soon Alistair's hands were on her again - and, Andraste help her, she would know his hands anywhere - starting at her waist and coasting upward to cup her breasts. Elinora broke the kiss with a ragged breath and looked down in time to see Anders swipe his tongue along the slope of one breast, pausing only long enough to draw two of Alistair's fingers into his mouth. It was exactly what Anders had done to her, but somehow the gesture turned twice as suggestive on another man, and Alistair shuddered hard. Elinora was nearly certain the chair they were abusing let out a creak.

"Maker," she breathed. "We've got to…."

Anders released Alistair's fingers after a positively obscene stroke of his tongue. "What?" he said hoarsely.

She shifted again, twisting against Alistair in a way that made him hiss out a breath and involuntarily thrust his hips. The chair absolutely made a sound of protest then. "I happen to like this chair," she said.

Anders murmured, "There are other options," and Elinora became briefly overwhelmed by images of their bodies entwined in any number of places, any number of ways. Her whole lower body went deliciously tense. Something about the way it made her move also made it obvious just how wet and ready she'd already become.

They had options, yes, but… they were far too far gone to make it any further away than this room.

Elinora moaned. Memories of other unplanned trysts ran through her head -- and the consequences, and one particular near miss. "At least let me…. check the door," she said.

Alistair, who'd obviously remembered the same moment she had, let out a slow, warm laugh.

Anders reached down and drew her to her feet, releasing her from one sweet source of pressure and then gathering her against him to add another. He stroked the small of her back and twisted his hips needfully, just once, as he kissed her. Then he let her go. Her dress finally slipped away, sliding over her hips to pool onto the floor, revealing the scrap of smallclothes that could barely even be considered as such. Thus exposed, an old, terrible thrill of nerves struck her, but under their stares, the appreciative sighs, she felt it escalate into something more powerful and infinitely more pleasurable.

She gave Anders a sly smile, and then -- mostly for Alistair's benefit, behind her -- sauntered up to the door with swaying hips. She checked the lock, then for good measure, pushed a heavy chair under the doorknob, ensuring no one would be interrupting them this time.

Then she pulled a cushion off its seat and tossed it to the center of the floor. Anders, getting the idea, added two more pillows from the chair where he'd been sitting, and Alistair his; it was a haphazard arrangement, but at least it was something. Elinora imagined both of them sprawled across the array, bare limbs twining (oh, Maker) or reaching for her, and she felt one her own hands wander down her body, stopping just above the junction of her thighs. They were both watching her hungrily now, as if waiting for her to continue.

But, she thought with a little twist of humor, that was their job -- and they needed to start catching up.

"You are both," she said, "still wearing far too many clothes."

Anders laughed as he went for the laces on his robes. Elinora went to help him, brushing skin far more than was absolutely necessary, and fumbling with all the unfamiliar ties until he had to guide her hands; the sudden sensuality of it made her shiver once more. He smiled, then guided her hands higher before she was quite done with his clothes. Between the two of them, they made short work of the tie holding back his ponytail. Elinora found her fingers tangling in waves of soft blond hair, feeling that it would be easy, all too easy, to simply pull him down and kiss him senseless -- but from the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Alistair unfolding from the chair at last. She and Anders turned to face him.

At the sight, they both went still.

Alistair pulled off his shirt and flung it aside with careless grace, and his trousers, sorely strained, went with one careful tug and then a push over his hips. He stepped out of them and stood to face Elinora. Alistair's thinness was a distant memory now; in the firelight his skin turned gold, and flickering shadows emphasized every muscle, and she realized with almost shocking clarity that Alistair's body was every bit as battle-marked as hers, and yet no less desirable. When her gaze dropped, she saw him twitch and tremble, hardening just a little bit more, and her reaction to it was utterly primal. She wanted all at once to touch him, slide her mouth over him, push him back against the warm stones and possess him completely.

She wondered briefly what her own expression looked like. Alistair's betrayed nothing except barely-banked hunger.

"Andraste's bloody flaming knickers, that is not fair," Anders said around a choked-off laugh. It took Elinora a moment to realize she'd added to his strain; her hands were clenched hard around his half-undone robes, tightening them around his neck. She forced herself to breathe, and let him go. "Mages just… don't get built that way…."

One corner of Alistair's mouth lifted in a smirk. "You just need to try harder."

"Well, at least I'm trying hard enough in one respect…."

He undid the last tie and tugged off the robe, moving with more urgency now. Elinora watched as he shed every last scrap and then stood. Despite his protestations, she let out an appreciative hum. He was shorter and less muscular than Alistair, but there was a certain lean strength to him, and the firelight only added to the faint aura around him -- magic beginning to spill loose from sheer sensory overload. The air around him fairly vibrated, dangerous and enticing.

And as Elinora had felt clearly enough some moments before, he was absolutely telling the truth about… well, trying hard enough.

Elinora caught herself licking dry lips. She knew exactly what that must have looked like to them both.

"Here," she said roughly, wanting to go to both of them at once. All she could do was sway on her feet and say it again: "Come here."

They did.

There was a fleeting moment wherein Elinora felt almost lost amid the options before her; her mind swum with everything she could do, every possible path and outcome, when, rather abruptly, her brain crashed to a stop. Don't think, she told herself. Don't craft a strategy. Do what you feel.

This, however, did very little to keep Elinora from feeling like she was standing before a table laden with a mouth-watering feast with no idea where to begin.

Drawing in a shuddering breath, she placed a hand on either man's chest, letting her fingers drift slowly upward - Anders' lips twitched and Elinora wondered if he was ticklish; Alistair simply watched her - and then down and further down again, loosely grasping both erections, watching their faces as she stroked. Their responses were immediate and so very different: Anders drew in a sharp breath, eyes closing and his head tilting back almost immediately, while Alistair pushed his hips against her hand, his lips curving into a smile that made her pulse trip. He moved closer, letting one hand drift down to her hip before curving a path around to grab firmly at her backside at the exact moment he sealed his mouth over hers in a bruising kiss. This was a dance they knew well - the contours of each other's bodies, the secret little spots that elicited the loudest, longest groans.

Anders, however, would not be outdone, thrusting into her hand, moving in close enough to both Elinora and Alistair that the aura of magic that surrounded him only intensified the effect his touch had - and, Maker, the effects that were had. He sidled in closer, one hand roaming her body, taking in every plane, every curve, as the other searched downward, pushing beneath the scrap of cloth she was wearing and drifting oh, so lightly over her curls. A tingle that seemed to be both hot and cold sparked once again across her skin, and Elinora, pressed as she was against Alistair, felt that sensation dance across her skin before jumping to his. Alistair's reaction was instant: a throaty groan as he kissed her harder, his tongue plunging into her mouth, hungrily stroking against hers.

It was Elinora who broke the kiss, catching Alistair's lower lip between her teeth and gently worrying it for a moment before pulling back entirely and turning her gaze back to Anders. He looked incredibly pleased with himself as he placed two fingers under her chin to tilt her face up and kiss her slowly, though no less deeply than Alistair had.

Their descent to the floor was a slow one, but even so, Elinora couldn't begin to guess who'd made the first movements in that direction. Sprawled so before the fire, they were a tangle of warm limbs, searching hands, curious fingers, and hungry mouths. Alistair licked a path from her breast down to her upper thigh, which made her moan even as she took Anders into her mouth, making him gasp and arch; his magic hummed all around them, intensifying her senses. She sucked and stroked, fingers trailing across his skin, sometimes hitting sensitive patches that made him twitch and let out a breathless laugh. All the while, Alistair's mouth moved across her body, sometimes kissing, sometimes licking, sometimes biting gently at spots he knew well. But when he slid that last, remaining slip of cloth down her legs and off completely, fingers caressing her the whole while, then moved her leg enough to hook it over his shoulder, it was Elinora's turn to pull back and cry out -- for he was bending down to meet her, making a long, slow swipe of his tongue across her slick folds. After the first, he tilted his head and plunged in even deeper. Elinora moaned and twisted in ecstasy on the thick rug.

Anders, even interrupted just short of the brink as he was, let out a low, appreciative sound, his mouth curling into a smile as he began to move again.

Elinora closed her eyes before she could see what Anders might do. Her fingers tangled in Alistair's hair instead, urging him on, although it was hardly even needed; he seemed to have dispensed with all idea of teasing. His strokes were sure and building in intensity, his breath hot against her; she could hear and feel every involuntary sound he made. Her muscles began to tighten, and a deep, aching tension built up within her.

Then she felt Anders press up against her side, kissing her flushed cheek, then her shoulder, and then simply touching her everywhere he could while his hips rocked against her, seeking pressure. The heat of him made her gasp. Her eyes flew open, and she strained through the haze to see -- Anders tense and wanting as he thrust against her, Alistair breathing hard as he tried to bring her over the edge, and she could see him moving, too, his arm flexing…. dear Maker, she realized; he was touching himself….

She made a desperate sound and grabbed for them both. Alistair rose in a hurry to meet her, but it was Anders she could seize first, and he pulled with just as much force until she'd suddenly rolled up onto her knees, straddling him as he gripped her hips and thrust in hard.

Elinora cried out -- and though she'd meant to wait for Alistair, she was simply too close. Anders flexed his hips again, groaning helplessly, and then he gasped; and the instant she felt him come undone, she was lost. Skin-tingling magic blossomed under his fingertips, then soaked in deep, and it joined with the explosion of sensation in her own nerves until all she could do was hold on as her body seized and flexed and shuddered around him, overcome.

It wasn't until the mad pleasure faded and she realized she'd simply folded down atop him, exhausted, that Alistair's hands took her up again and gently eased her away.

She blinked up at him once he'd guided her back against the cushions. Even through the faintly unfocused blur, the lingering haze of sensation, she could see the mix of emotions on his face: astonishment at her, intense arousal at what he'd seen, jealousy, frustration. She soon realized why. Anders propped himself up on his elbows and looked him over, managing a crooked smile. "Oh, Alistair. We didn't mean to leave you out…."

"I wasn't expecting you to do that," Alistair muttered. "And…." His eyes flicked down to Elinora; his hands lingered on her, strangely hesitant. She shifted beneath him, making him loose a long, slow breath. "Seeing you…."

Even so sated, she felt a low, warm pulse of heat again within her. Anders, for his part, laughed. Elinora thought for a moment that he was almost being cruel until she saw Anders crook his fingers; strange light gathered around them as he gestured Alistair closer.

"Come here," he said.

Elinora turned, frowning slightly. Her limbs barely wanted to obey her; complex thoughts seemed entirely out of her grasp. The only thing she managed was a simple query of what is he doing, which she didn't even speak aloud. Alistair read the look on her face nevertheless; he seemed to share the question. But he crouched beside Anders anyway, who'd sat up to face him and was now wearing a rather wicked smile.

Satiation gave way to an entirely new kind of tension at that look.

"I think it's time to teach you two," Anders said, "the dirty little secret of rejuvenation spells."

He reached down -- and with no hesitation, grasped Alistair between the legs.

Elinora watched in amazement as Alistair's head tipped back in shock, his body arching. Anders, looking entirely too satisfied with himself, began to move his hand. Alistair soon lost balance, and before long he was on his back against the cushions with Anders bent above him, working him harder again with long, sure strokes. Power pulsed under his fingers with each movement. Elinora could feel Anders' spell echoing through the air, teasing at her overstimulated skin, making sensation pool again in deep places -- or perhaps she was simply responding to the sight before her: Alistair clutching Anders' shoulders, their bodies arching together and helpless desire clear on her lover's face.

"How--" Alistair gasped. Anders, smirking, bent his head low.

"Bet you never thought I could do this with stamina regeneration," Anders said against his ear, his voice low and rough. "I can keep going for hours."

Alistair shuddered pleasurably, but it was Elinora who made the strangled, involuntary moan. The two of them -- touching like that --

The sound finally made both men pull apart enough to face her. Anders smiled wide at what he saw.

"And you don't even need the spell, do you," he murmured. "Maker's breath, Elinora, you're--"

"Oh, shut up," Elinora said. She heard him laugh again, loud and long, as she went straight for Alistair.

There was no preamble as she landed atop him, his hands finding her hips with an ease seemingly born of raw instinct.   Prompted as he had been, stimulated straight to the core, he was hardly going to take this slowly -- and neither was she. Her mouth fastened upon his as their bodies arched and pressed against each other. He pulled her firmly onto him and Elinora moaned into Alistair's mouth, her hips twisting and grinding as he entered her. Every inch of her still thrummed with arousal, while at the same time tingling with lingering remnants of Anders' magic, and when she slid downward, driving him deeper, the welcome intrusion was enough to make her body react instantly and intensely.

Alistair's hands slid up her back and down again, first cupping then grabbing her backside, pulling her down as he thrust upward. He drank in every inch of her with his hands: the dip in her waist, the flare of her hips, the curve at the small of her back. When his hands went to her breasts, she pressed hard against them, arching her back and letting out a throaty, breathless moan.

As their movements grew faster and less controlled, Elinora gradually became aware of the way pleasure seemed to be pooling in her limbs, the pressure building as they moved, as Alistair's hands traveled across her skin, as Elinora claimed his mouth.

Then, as the tension built until both of them were fairly trembling, Elinora opened dazed eyes, and through the warm glow of the firelight and Anders' hazy aura, which he seemed little inclined to control (not that she was in any way complaining), she saw the mage watching them both intently, a secretive grin at his lips. Clearly he hadn't been exaggerating about the rejuvenation spell, for he was hard again, and stroking himself as he watched them, making no secret of the fact. And something about the boldness he was displaying, the way Anders watched them openly, shamelessly, sent something else dancing across her nerves and setting her skin alight.

Elinora twisted her hips sharply and smiled when Alistair gasped, thrusting his hips against her. She ground against him, lowering her body until they were pressed chest to chest, kissing him again and again until finally that delicious tension snapped and broke in wave after wave. Her body arched and rocked against him, as if her hips could urge Alistair deeper inside. And then, finally, as her deepest muscles tightened and spasmed around him, Alistair went incomprehensibly tense and still for a bare moment before succumbing. He thrust into her with a hoarse groan, ragged around the edges, and they moved together as he came, time and circumstance fading away until they were aware of nothing but each other.

They were both trembling and sweat-sheened by the time Elinora collapsed on top of Alistair, smiling drowsily as his arms went around her. After a moment she looked again at Anders; the mage was on his side, his earlier arousal having reached its inevitable conclusion. One hand still splayed casually over himself, his thumb idly stroking. Anders caught Elinora looking and chuckled low in his throat.

"There," he said lazily. "I believe we're all even."

Elinora, who could barely tell even from odd or up from down at this point, gave him an exhausted smile. "Not entirely even," she murmured. "Unless you're both chipping in for cleaning up this rug."

Alistair's chuckle reverberated pleasantly through her. She settled even closer against him, feeling his hand trail gently over her back. Anders propped his head up in one hand, watching them; he showed no evidence either of jealousy or any need to get closer. He was, however, taking evident enjoyment in the view.

"You are one lucky bastard, Alistair," Anders said. Both Alistair and Elinora laughed this time.

"So one might say," Alistair murmured.

Elinora let her fingers roam across Alistair's chest as she listened to the still-rapid thrum of his heartbeat. She doubted he'd be comfortable for long on the floor like this, but for now she was planning to enjoy the moment. Anders might think Alistair was lucky, but she could think of someone else who deserved that label more.

To go from years of loneliness to this, given so freely…oh, that was sweet fortune indeed.

"Maybe we should keep him around," she suggested, tilting her head up just enough to meet Alistair's eyes. "Borrow him now and then, at least?"

The irony made him smile. "This is sounding familiar."

"Ah," Anders said knowingly. He stretched out, leaning back and folding his hands behind his head. "This is also sounding like one of those might-as-well-be-a-married-couple in-jokes. I see how it is. Anyway--"

Alistair and Elinora's exchanged look had almost turned sheepish, in a strangely tender way. They held their gaze as Anders kept talking.

"--I'm not the type to be borrowed. Although I may keep turning up from time to time. You have such a lovely home, after all; it seems a shame not to visit." He quirked an eyebrow at Elinora. "A bed might be nice next time, though."

Amused, she considered her own train of thought before they'd resorted to the floor. "You might have started with that qualification before we began…."

Anders shot them both a satisfied, cat-in-the-cream grin. "I doubt either of you would have gone along with my harmless little game if I had."

"Well. We know better now, don't we?"

"Indeed," Alistair murmured, after kissing her hair. Then he chuckled and added, "And we could always go for one more round of that spell, you know."

They all laughed together this time, the sound tired but content. And when Anders reached out to brush Elinora's fingertips on Alistair's shoulder, she felt one more lingering spark -- not enough to awaken, but a sweet flare of promise. The First Day celebration continued beyond the doors, and their absence would soon be noted. Soon, people would come searching for them. Soon, they would have to rejoin the festivities.

But soon was not now, and they'd have a little time together yet. With that clearly in mind, Elinora reached out, too, feeling herself begin again to smile.