Hawke Fade Away | By : HunterOpera Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 22975 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age and make no money from this. |
Hawke shuddered, wrapping her naked body further in the blankets around her. She gasped, her legs pushed wide, one held aloft by soft fingers, a tongue tracing a line from her core and up along her thigh. Her own fingers tightened in worn sheets, the soft mattress below her wet with sweat and sex.
She tried to untangle herself, to sit up, but a hand cupped her breast and pushed her back down. It felt so warm, too good, and her lips parted to release a quivering breath as her vision went hazy with need. She was somewhere rundown, the ceiling full of holes and the air smelling of trees, and those were the only details that stuck as five thin trails wound themselves along her chest, down her ribs and belly, entering her slick folds.
As the hand ruled her desire with vicious need, small kisses meandered their way up the curve of her thigh, her hips, back across her chest and licking her nipples. Hawke whimpered as those kisses pressed onward, up her shoulder and into her neck as the fingers inside her continued to slither down there, pinching her lower lips, running over her clit, spreading her juices.
Her rapist nibbled on her jawline, licked her cheek, brought their lips together and through the fog of lust that had withered her sense of anything else, Hawke saw who was doing this to her.
“M-Merrill...?” moaned Hawke.
“Still capable of speech, are we?” Merrill answered, patting Hawke's cheek with the hand that had left her gaping, spreading nectar all over her features. “Ir's surprising, is all. You've had so many orgasms they've got names and families now. Suck. Go on. ”
Hawke did, cleaning Merrill's hand with her tongue, unable to keep herself from pleading with her eyes.
A quiet part of Hawke screamed that this wasn't Merrill, that the elf was too innocent to do anything like this, but then a flicker of light caught Hawke's attention as Merrill's too-bright eyes turned from Hawke to the corner of her hovel.
“Though she'd left language behind days ago,” Merrill said.
“It's a work in progress,” the Desire Demons answered. “Do you feel the magic?”
“I do,” Merrill answered. The elf's fingers returned to the crux of Hawke, pressing deep inside of her, and her whole body went taut as another wave of pleasure washed over her and drowned every other thought out of her pretty head. Merrill's lips pressed against her throat in mid-orgasm, soft whispering teeth pulling at the gentle skin and pulling more moans out of her.
“She's very powerful,” the Desire Demon whispered. The demon was closer now, long nails close enough to touch Hawke's face, to brush and pinch her nipples.
“Yes, she is,” Merrill agreed, doing things with her tongue that rippled through Hawke, stealing her breath away, leaving her feeling weak and ragged and used.
“M-Merill...?” managed Hawke, each syllable a struggle. The elf slapped her but she was so far gone the pain just added to the pleasure she was already feeling, already lost in, already...
“She wants to use her tongue,” the Desire Demon said, bending down to massaging Hawke's temples. Hawke's eyes were slits, just enough of her vision left to show her that the demon was looking at the elf. “You could put that to good use.”
“I know what you mean,” Merrill answered, and Hawke could hear the flush in the elf's voice. “Isabella told me.”
“And you've been curious ever since,” the demon replied. “Sate your curiosity.”
Beside Hawke, the elf moved on the bed, her slim limbs entwining around Hawke's and moving upwards, pushing up and straddling Hawke, the elf's hips pressed against her whimpering lips. The elf leaned back and Hawke felt fingers return to her dripping folds, slithering along the length, moving inside her...
“Lick,” Merrill commanded.
Hawke licked.
She had to strain her neck and the elf helped, the hand she'd been using to balance herself winding in Hawke's hair and pulling Hawke into her. The scent of Merrill enveloped Hawke, the human drowning in elven wet as slim fingers pumped in and out of her. Hawke's clever tongue spoke a wordless language now, her moans entering Merrill, her tongue pressing and licking and suckling, Merrill's breathing becoming a ragged match for her own.
Hawke was drowning, breathless, helpless, her vision going dark when the wave of pleasure crashed and everything was swallowed in a bright white light, the cries of the elf above her cutting through the dull haze that Hawke's world had become. She felt a sweet fluid hit the back of her throat and swallowed, the liquid tasting of berries and pine, it coming and coming as the elf screamed, but there was so much and it filled Hawke's mouth and spilled up over her nose and cheeks and chin.
When the barest sense of anything returned to Hawke, it was the demon who touched her, felt her, raped her – above them, Merrill had pulled the magic from Hawke's sweat-soaked body, she still shuddering as the elf shaped her magic.
“Blood magic isn't the only way to power,” the demon cooed, bowing her head between Hawke's legs, and the breath that left her body was a ruin, her muscles taut as the demon's tongue wove into Hawke's dripping core.
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