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Baiting	By : Darbracken Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 2881 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Alistair, Sten, Zevran or Jaeden. I do not own dragon age. Jaeden is my girlfriend's character. I will not and have not received any profit from this fic.

Chapter List
- 1-Baiting
- 2-Control
- 1
- 2
Jaeden's personality belongs to the lovely Kyogou. If you don't like this fic and want to rate it with one star at least offer me some constructive critism as to why you don't like it and how I can improve.. because it's starting to get boring, really boring.
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“Alistair is watching us again; do you think he may be jealous?” The thick Antivan accent stirred Jaeden from his reverie. Zevran enjoyed teasing the former Templar, but recently it had become more and more noticeable that often they were the reason Alistair’s brows furrowed. It was understandable; he was a mage and the assassin was no wilting princess whom had to be saved. Somehow the notion of two men sharing such intimacy seemed to unsettle Alistair – or arouse him – Jaeden could never tell which. Long digits skimmed the inner of his thigh, languidly leaning back into the pelts piled up within the tent they officially now shared.
“Maker, do you have to be –so obvious- about it.” Finally Alistair’s silence was broken, just as Zevran’s fingertips cupped his groin, a tiny thrill of excitement spurring on his desire to be mischievous.
“Do the Templars not do such things, Alistair?” The way the man spluttered was almost cute, almost, but he also had a penchant for being irritating and the elf couldn’t put his finger on just why. Perhaps it was born out of the fact they were naturally opposed as were cat and dog, considering his preference for magic and Alistair’s previous affiliations.
“Certainly not! And if they did, they would not be quite so indiscreet!” Ah, just there. Nails scraped the inner of his thigh a second time, a favourite spot of his, the assassin barely able to suppress his amusement at his lover’s sudden interest in baiting the human.
“Did you know Alistair that the Dalish frequently host large orgies? They eat, drink and make merry with one another for hours.” At first, colour drained from the human’s face before it returned with a flourish, turning him completely crimson at the implication of many naked, writhing bodies. Dryly he swallowed and muttered under his breath. “Maker, remind me to never accept any invitations to Dalish parties.”
Cloth was pressed taut to his growing interest in the assassin’s touches, seeing no reason to move from where he was, quite comfortable in fact. Alistair on the other hand was growing excruciatingly uncomfortable as robes began to lift to expose muscular legs, not really sure where to look and if anywhere was safe for his eyes to rest. “Zevran is quite… skilled, perhaps if you ask nicely he might show you some tricks that he-“ Whatever Jaeden had been about to say was cut off by warm lips and an even hotter tongue that delved quite boldly into his mouth. For moments they just kissed, robes rubbed rhythmically along the swelling shaft. “Learnt in the Antivan whorehouse.” Finally Zevran finished the sentence, leaving the mage a little tousled and out of breath.
“You’ve only known each other for three weeks!” A mixture of repulsion, curiosity and indignation met the hazy cerulean eyes as they settled on the human, thoughts distorting as the Crow brushed fabric swiftly up and down just below the swell of his tip, moving no more than an inch in either direction.
“What is time when it is so obvious our bodies are made to pleasure one another?” Finding himself increasingly unable to join in the banter between his lover and his would-be friend, sometimes rival he instead panted open-mouthed, listening to the rich accent, remembering how sexy it sounded growling close to his ear when the other pushed him down into the furs.
Suddenly cold air washed up lean thighs, robes pulled aside to expose the aching shaft of his erection. A strangled noise informed him that Alistair had seen the burgeoning length. Was it even possible for a human to go even more scarlet than his fellow warden had been when he had last been able to focus on him? Maybe his head would explode. “I’m leaving!” Crashing armour and foliage followed as the Templar clumsily groped around in the darkness beyond the firelight of camp, trying to escape the pair of elves. Huskily Zevran chuckled in his ear, biting into the soft flesh as fingertips splayed. “Perhaps we would be more comfortable continuing this within our tent, no?” Jaeden found that he had to agree, after all the Crow had quite an array of implements hidden in his packs and the mage felt like greeting the morning sun still crying out his praises. Together they slipped into the more secluded confines of the hide construct.
Unnoticed by all Sten sat quietly by the fire, turning a small item over and over in his large hands. He eventually bit into it, savouring the flavour and crumbling sensation in his mouth. “Mmm. Cookies are best.”
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Baiting