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Samahlen	By : BronxWench Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 1569 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, and I make no money from this story.

Chapter List
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Hay

The rolling plains and hay fields of the Bannorn were behind them. Ahead of them lay the winding path that led up to the village of Redcliffe, perched above Lake Calenhad and straggling down to its shore.
Wraith paused to look at the castle above the village. This was where Alistair had been born, where he had lived until he was sent to the Chantry to be trained as a Templar. In the last light of the day, it seemed a forbidding place for a small child to live. Yet Alistair spoke fondly of the place, and of its Arl, Eamon Guerrein.
Alistair appeared troubled. Wraith's lover had been growing more withdrawn the closer they had gotten to Redcliffe, and it was more than the rift that had occurred the night Tamlen died. Wraith sighed and turned back to his companions, resigned to another night of nightmares, with Alistair's back to him when he woke trembling and damp with sweat.
"We camp here, and make the climb in the morning," Wraith said, to their relief. He sighed again and fetched his tent from the dwarven merchant's wagon. It was the barter they had struck with the merchant, their protection on the road in exchange for portage of some of their supplies.
Alistair joined Wraith as he was setting up the tent. "We need to talk," Alistair said, still troubled. "Not here, though."
Wraith followed Alistair until they were out of earshot of the others. "What's wrong?"
"There's something I need to tell you. I probably should have told you right away, but..." Alistair's voice trailed off. "I told you about my mother, that she was a serving girl in the castle."
Wraith nodded as Alistair sat on a flat rock. "I remember that. She died right after you were born, you said." He sat beside his lover, uneasy and not knowing why.
"I was sent away because Lady Isolde, Eamon's wife, thought I was his bastard. I wasn't." Alistair looked at Wraith for a moment and looked away. "I was the King's. Maric's son, but she didn't know that. Eamon knew."
Wraith took a breath, and found he had no words for this.
Alistair chuckled, a bitter sound. "Duncan knew, Loghain as well. That's why Duncan kept me out of the battle at Ostagar, on Cailin's orders. Protect the royal bastard." Alistair turned back to Wraith. "Eamon is going to want to put me on the throne. Don't let him. I don't belong there."
"Neither does Loghain," Wraith pointed out dryly.
"Then let Anora keep the damned thing! She was Cailin's Queen, and she wants it, more than me," Alistair's voice held such desperate pleading that Wraith reached out and wrapped his arms around his lover without thinking.
For the first time since Tamlen, Alistair did not flinch away. Instead, he turned into the embrace, holding Wraith tightly.
"I'll try," Wraith whispered, feeling something inside him begin to breathe again. "Just... come back to me."
"I'm sorry," Alistair murmured. "Maker's breath, this is hard. I thought if you knew, it would change things between us. It always does. And then with Tamlen, well, you were hurting, and I made that worse, too. I thought I ruined us."
Wraith shook his head, his words useless things. It was easier just to kiss Alistair, his touch saying all he wanted. Alistair's lips were warm and dry, and the kiss tasted sweet to the heartsore elf.
They finally broke apart, and Alistair's voice was strangled as he managed to blurt out, "Tent."
They fumbled with armor, haste making them both clumsy, and Alistair breathed out a rough gasp of laughter. Then it was skin on skin, and the comfort of familiar touches and hot need, and it was Wraith's turn to gasp as Alistair kissed him with desperate urgency. They half fell to the bedroll, and Wraith rolled onto his back, pulling Alistair atop him, but Alistair resisted and Wraith froze.
"Please, I want to try..." Alistair's cheeks were flushed, and Wraith looked at him, baffled.
Alistair managed a smile. "You're always letting me... I want to try it the other way. Feel you, in me."
"Are you sure?" Wraith asked, stroking his lover's stubbled cheek. Alistair nodded, and Wraith reached for the oil.
Alistair's eyes widened, and he huffed a breath when Wraith breached him with slick fingers. After a few minutes, Wraith guided Alistair gently, making his lover straddle him, and the elf lined his oiled cock up with Alistair's loosened pucker. Wraith bit back a moan as Alistair lowered himself, the head of Wraith's cock pushing past the still tight muscle. Alistair's breath hitched, and Wraith whispered, "Breathe. It passes."
Alistair was finally fully seated on Wraith's cock, and Wraith waited until Alistair's breathing evened out and he nodded. He held Alistair's hips, and coaxed him into a rocking motion, watching as the burn gave way to pleasure. Wraith took Alistair's cock in his hand, his thumb swiping over the head as he stroked. Alistair moaned and rocked faster, until Wraith's cock brushed against his prostate, and then Alistair cried out, hoarse and urgent, and spilled on Wraith's hand and belly, his ass clenching almost painfully on the elf's cock. Wraith moaned, his own balls drawing up and he released into Alistair with a strangled cry.
Alistair sank down to the side, and Wraith stroked Alistair's face as his lover panted. The elf eased his cock free, watching Alistair wince, and he feathered a soft kiss to Alistair's damp forehead.
"Emma lath, my love," Wraith whispered. "Thank you."
Alistair smiled, his eyes warm. "I might not make a habit of this," he admitted ruefully. "My ass hurts. But this?" Alistair kissed Wraith, and Wraith sighed with pleasure.
Alistair's arms wrapped around him as his breathing deepened, and Wraith watched as Alistair drifted away, a smile on his lips. It was not long before Wraith too fell into sleep, this time without dreams.

Prompt word: Hay
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