FIC: Those Who Wait (Patience)
So, I thought I would stretch myself, and I did. This is the first time I've ever written any non-fade-to-black sex. I don't really think I'm good at humor, but here I am with a humor piece. I'm hoping that this is Alistair enough to be here; I'd like to think he displays patience as well. :) Anyway, this is Round Three of the Seven Heavenly Virtues of Alistair: Patience.
So, enough awkward sidebars.
Title: Those Who Wait
Rating: Adult only, NSFW, CONTAINS SEX. (That good enough?)
Wordcount: ~1600
Summary: Lady Aeducan is used to getting what she wants RIGHT NOW, and Alistair is a little behind the curve on fulfilling that. She gets... a little frustrated.
Posted first to Siaimo_Comp
She was not, by nature, a patient woman. She had asked “when?” when other children fixated on why. She always spoiled her dinner. Most recently, she was always, always, at the forefront when exploring deep dark holes in the ground, to Alistair's despair (and Wynne's later, when she had to be patched up).
Of course, her logical argument was that she knew more about holes in the ground, but that never seemed to satisfy them. And, no matter how badly she got mangled, she couldn't seem to break herself of the habit. After all, that was one reason she learned to pick locks - so she wouldn't have to wait until a chest or cupboard was opened to learn what was in it. It was supremely easy to be impatient, Zircon knew, when you were an Aeducan; by family standards, she might not even be impatient - she had, after all, been willing to wait on a royal position rather than make it happen.
Not a thought she wanted in her head right now, thank you very much. She was preparing: She had unpacked a minimal amount of things, so her tent was tidy. There was a bowl of warm water and a rag. There was a pitcher of cool spring water and a cup. Her blanket was laid out to its full length, rather than the length of her smaller, dwarf-sized bedroll. Finally, she had scrubbed herself and changed her undergarments.
Tonight was a night for lovemaking, or as close as one got while traveling with a band as sharp-eared as these. Specifically, it was a blustery night, one that might actually cover any sounds that slipped out, in case there was anyone who didn't know what was going on. She counted herself lucky that when she whispered in Alistair's ear and he turned sandstone pink that Morrigan had been walking ahead of them where she couldn't see, or the jig would have been up for certain.
She sighed and marshaled her thoughts as she sat on her bedroll and waited for her lover. This would be their fourth occasion for lovemaking. She hadn't dragged Alistair to her bed, but she sometimes wished she had waited until it was his idea - fat chance. With how slowly he had moved to even kissing her, she might have been long dead to the archdemon before they got to the point they were at now. And that point was, well, sweet, but not very satisfying.
The first occasion was about what one expected from a virgin man. At the very least she had been gratified to learn that human men and dwarf men were put together about the same, or at least this human man was. Perhaps that meant he was less endowed for his kind, but it wasn't the size of the sword, it was what you did with it. After all, look at Zevran with those little daggers... no, his actual daggers. She had no desire to have anything to do with the flirtatious elf's non-Crow provided equipment; despite being smaller than him, she had the vague feeling she could break the elf in half, never mind the fact that she liked her men a little bit choosier in their partners. She had found out the hard way in that regard with her second (of three) lover, a man who was lucky she hadn't removed vital portions of his anatomy when she found she had to make a (very) secret trip to the healers.
She digressed. Alistair had been amazed by it all, she had enjoyed herself somewhat. She waited until he fell asleep and finished herself off to thoughts of how wonderful it would eventually be and they had woken up to not quite make vows of undying love. She stroked his ego, lest he give up the first time out of the barn, and that was that.
The second occasion, they had discovered that it was really better to have the shorter, lighter dwarf on top. The new position had overwhelmed whatever willpower Alistair had marshaled and she had ended up with another date with her best friend.
The third time, she hadn't introduced any new variables, and she could tell that Alistair was beginning to get his mind around the new sensations; he had definitely turned in a performance that showed promise, but no awards quite yet.
Tonight, then, was going to be a new lesson, so that maybe she could stop giving herself finger cramps and instead pin a gold star on his forehead. And she was pretty sure what that would be, so that he didn't end up overstimulated from something new.
Finally - finally! - Alistair arrived, with that harried look that showed how concerned her was about the rest of their party finding out about them, despite her threats to cut out any flapping tongues. His creased brow disappeared as a radiant smile replaced it. She flung a lopsided smile back at him and patted the blankets next to her.
Class was in session.
There had been quite a bit of furious necking; that certainly hadn't gotten old yet. Alistair had lost his shirt, and she was wearing just the longish shift she slept in.
“Now, explain to me again what you want me to do?” The almost-Templar sounded quizzical, but like he honestly wanted to know. Rather than explain again, she reached for his right hand where it lay on her shoulder and slowly drew it down her body. She was happy to see he looked... intrigued. She pressed his hand into her rapidly moistening cleft. (It always happened - in this situations, her brain started to sound like a romance novel.)
“There's a spot there on a woman that just feels... good,” she whispered seductively into his chest, or tried to, since she interrupted herself: “Ow!”
Alistair drew back like her bodily fluids had been replaced with molten metal. Damn it. She was prepared to be tolerant and forgiving, but he had poked at her and it hurt. Still, she kept her face calm and even forced a little chuckle. “Gentle, gentle. Think about how I touch you...” And she reached down to lightly stroke him through his coarse pants. He closed his eyes and sat up straight with a deep breath.
“Gentle. Gentle...” She closed her eyes and tried not to chuckle in a much less calming fashion. He sounded like a school child trying to remember information for a test. As his hand slowly descended for another attempt, she leaned over to nibble on his ear. And winced again.
“You know, maybe we should try something different...”
Despite an initial reaction of “Really? I thought they were having me on about that!” and a “That's an... interesting taste”, Alistair really seemed to be catching on to this part, even if it had taken some work to recapture the mood after the accidental pinching.
She lay back on her bedroll and tried not to moan. He licked at her clit in little circles and she reached down and grabbed at his arms where he supported himself. Yes, this was a wonderful idea to teach him. Quiet. Have to stay - quiet! He had tentatively begun to suck, just a bit and then paused, looking at her to see if that was right.
She nodded emphatically at him. So, so close. Maybe..?
“You... you could use your fingers on me, too. Ooo. Stop, stop for just a second. Just one to start with, and move like - like that, that's good. And the other and - “ She flung her head back. Oh, yes, that was starting to make the center of her feel like she was filled with burning ice, just that rhythm right -
She glanced up at him. He tongue had stopped moving. She pouted at him. He lifted his head.
“Do you know how tough it is to concentrate on two things at once, woman?” he hissed at her. He brought his wet hand up to pluck a pubic hair from his teeth.
Okay, one... more... try.
There's something to be said for the old reliable, she thought. Though, of course, it wasn't exactly old yet, nor reliable, but with a little innovation, she thought it would work. She carefully slid herself down him until her petite dwarven rear rested against his thighs. He gasped and took deep, calming breaths.
Even more carefully, she brought his hand back to her poor, abused clit. “Now, those nice circles, but with your fingers... and you just do that, and I'll handle everything else.” She gasped herself. “Yes, that spot, that right there!”
She braced herself on his oh-so-muscular abs and leaned forward slightly. She restrained herself, moving slowly so as not to make this another failed attempt. Oh, ancestors, he was doing it right. She knew it was selfish, but she concentrated on exactly what movements stoked her own fire. Again, the cold heat began to bloom in her and she moved faster. Alistair had begun to pant, but all that mattered was the increasing tension in her as she felt him slide in and out, as those callused fingers rubbed against her, even if Alistair was growing erratic. That angle, like he was rubbing across her whole insides, oh, oh, oh!
She continued to move, even as her arms weakened, relishing the feeling of dropping off the cliff, keeping that feeling as long as she could. Alistair's eyes bugged out and he looked at her with an expression of desperation on his face. She smiled and nodded at him, allowing him to finish.
She lay with her head just barely on his shoulder and then carefully rolled off to snuggle higher, where he could put his arm around her and look at her with half lidded eyes in the faint light that came through the tent walls.
That was beautiful, she thought. All it took was a little patience.
So, enough awkward sidebars.
Title: Those Who Wait
Rating: Adult only, NSFW, CONTAINS SEX. (That good enough?)
Wordcount: ~1600
Summary: Lady Aeducan is used to getting what she wants RIGHT NOW, and Alistair is a little behind the curve on fulfilling that. She gets... a little frustrated.
Posted first to Siaimo_Comp
She was not, by nature, a patient woman. She had asked “when?” when other children fixated on why. She always spoiled her dinner. Most recently, she was always, always, at the forefront when exploring deep dark holes in the ground, to Alistair's despair (and Wynne's later, when she had to be patched up).
Of course, her logical argument was that she knew more about holes in the ground, but that never seemed to satisfy them. And, no matter how badly she got mangled, she couldn't seem to break herself of the habit. After all, that was one reason she learned to pick locks - so she wouldn't have to wait until a chest or cupboard was opened to learn what was in it. It was supremely easy to be impatient, Zircon knew, when you were an Aeducan; by family standards, she might not even be impatient - she had, after all, been willing to wait on a royal position rather than make it happen.
Not a thought she wanted in her head right now, thank you very much. She was preparing: She had unpacked a minimal amount of things, so her tent was tidy. There was a bowl of warm water and a rag. There was a pitcher of cool spring water and a cup. Her blanket was laid out to its full length, rather than the length of her smaller, dwarf-sized bedroll. Finally, she had scrubbed herself and changed her undergarments.
Tonight was a night for lovemaking, or as close as one got while traveling with a band as sharp-eared as these. Specifically, it was a blustery night, one that might actually cover any sounds that slipped out, in case there was anyone who didn't know what was going on. She counted herself lucky that when she whispered in Alistair's ear and he turned sandstone pink that Morrigan had been walking ahead of them where she couldn't see, or the jig would have been up for certain.
She sighed and marshaled her thoughts as she sat on her bedroll and waited for her lover. This would be their fourth occasion for lovemaking. She hadn't dragged Alistair to her bed, but she sometimes wished she had waited until it was his idea - fat chance. With how slowly he had moved to even kissing her, she might have been long dead to the archdemon before they got to the point they were at now. And that point was, well, sweet, but not very satisfying.
The first occasion was about what one expected from a virgin man. At the very least she had been gratified to learn that human men and dwarf men were put together about the same, or at least this human man was. Perhaps that meant he was less endowed for his kind, but it wasn't the size of the sword, it was what you did with it. After all, look at Zevran with those little daggers... no, his actual daggers. She had no desire to have anything to do with the flirtatious elf's non-Crow provided equipment; despite being smaller than him, she had the vague feeling she could break the elf in half, never mind the fact that she liked her men a little bit choosier in their partners. She had found out the hard way in that regard with her second (of three) lover, a man who was lucky she hadn't removed vital portions of his anatomy when she found she had to make a (very) secret trip to the healers.
She digressed. Alistair had been amazed by it all, she had enjoyed herself somewhat. She waited until he fell asleep and finished herself off to thoughts of how wonderful it would eventually be and they had woken up to not quite make vows of undying love. She stroked his ego, lest he give up the first time out of the barn, and that was that.
The second occasion, they had discovered that it was really better to have the shorter, lighter dwarf on top. The new position had overwhelmed whatever willpower Alistair had marshaled and she had ended up with another date with her best friend.
The third time, she hadn't introduced any new variables, and she could tell that Alistair was beginning to get his mind around the new sensations; he had definitely turned in a performance that showed promise, but no awards quite yet.
Tonight, then, was going to be a new lesson, so that maybe she could stop giving herself finger cramps and instead pin a gold star on his forehead. And she was pretty sure what that would be, so that he didn't end up overstimulated from something new.
Finally - finally! - Alistair arrived, with that harried look that showed how concerned her was about the rest of their party finding out about them, despite her threats to cut out any flapping tongues. His creased brow disappeared as a radiant smile replaced it. She flung a lopsided smile back at him and patted the blankets next to her.
Class was in session.
There had been quite a bit of furious necking; that certainly hadn't gotten old yet. Alistair had lost his shirt, and she was wearing just the longish shift she slept in.
“Now, explain to me again what you want me to do?” The almost-Templar sounded quizzical, but like he honestly wanted to know. Rather than explain again, she reached for his right hand where it lay on her shoulder and slowly drew it down her body. She was happy to see he looked... intrigued. She pressed his hand into her rapidly moistening cleft. (It always happened - in this situations, her brain started to sound like a romance novel.)
“There's a spot there on a woman that just feels... good,” she whispered seductively into his chest, or tried to, since she interrupted herself: “Ow!”
Alistair drew back like her bodily fluids had been replaced with molten metal. Damn it. She was prepared to be tolerant and forgiving, but he had poked at her and it hurt. Still, she kept her face calm and even forced a little chuckle. “Gentle, gentle. Think about how I touch you...” And she reached down to lightly stroke him through his coarse pants. He closed his eyes and sat up straight with a deep breath.
“Gentle. Gentle...” She closed her eyes and tried not to chuckle in a much less calming fashion. He sounded like a school child trying to remember information for a test. As his hand slowly descended for another attempt, she leaned over to nibble on his ear. And winced again.
“You know, maybe we should try something different...”
Despite an initial reaction of “Really? I thought they were having me on about that!” and a “That's an... interesting taste”, Alistair really seemed to be catching on to this part, even if it had taken some work to recapture the mood after the accidental pinching.
She lay back on her bedroll and tried not to moan. He licked at her clit in little circles and she reached down and grabbed at his arms where he supported himself. Yes, this was a wonderful idea to teach him. Quiet. Have to stay - quiet! He had tentatively begun to suck, just a bit and then paused, looking at her to see if that was right.
She nodded emphatically at him. So, so close. Maybe..?
“You... you could use your fingers on me, too. Ooo. Stop, stop for just a second. Just one to start with, and move like - like that, that's good. And the other and - “ She flung her head back. Oh, yes, that was starting to make the center of her feel like she was filled with burning ice, just that rhythm right -
She glanced up at him. He tongue had stopped moving. She pouted at him. He lifted his head.
“Do you know how tough it is to concentrate on two things at once, woman?” he hissed at her. He brought his wet hand up to pluck a pubic hair from his teeth.
Okay, one... more... try.
There's something to be said for the old reliable, she thought. Though, of course, it wasn't exactly old yet, nor reliable, but with a little innovation, she thought it would work. She carefully slid herself down him until her petite dwarven rear rested against his thighs. He gasped and took deep, calming breaths.
Even more carefully, she brought his hand back to her poor, abused clit. “Now, those nice circles, but with your fingers... and you just do that, and I'll handle everything else.” She gasped herself. “Yes, that spot, that right there!”
She braced herself on his oh-so-muscular abs and leaned forward slightly. She restrained herself, moving slowly so as not to make this another failed attempt. Oh, ancestors, he was doing it right. She knew it was selfish, but she concentrated on exactly what movements stoked her own fire. Again, the cold heat began to bloom in her and she moved faster. Alistair had begun to pant, but all that mattered was the increasing tension in her as she felt him slide in and out, as those callused fingers rubbed against her, even if Alistair was growing erratic. That angle, like he was rubbing across her whole insides, oh, oh, oh!
She continued to move, even as her arms weakened, relishing the feeling of dropping off the cliff, keeping that feeling as long as she could. Alistair's eyes bugged out and he looked at her with an expression of desperation on his face. She smiled and nodded at him, allowing him to finish.
She lay with her head just barely on his shoulder and then carefully rolled off to snuggle higher, where he could put his arm around her and look at her with half lidded eyes in the faint light that came through the tent walls.
That was beautiful, she thought. All it took was a little patience.