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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.

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I Have Met the Enemy

"Maker's breath, what was that?" Alistair sat with his back against the wall of the cell, his arm around Wraith.
Wraith shrugged. "Judging from the loud bang, and louder cursing, someone fired a ballista inside the Fort."
"And this doesn't worry you?" Alistair looked at Wraith, incredulous.
"Beyond the fact that we're locked in a cell, with nothing more than our breechcloths and a few sticky spots?" Wraith arched an eyebrow. "They weren't aiming at us, which I'll take as a good sign."
Alistair sighed heavily. "If I live long enough to become King, we're going to have to set a few guidelines for attempting rescues."
Wraith chuckled, settling himself more comfortably against Alistair.
"Seriously," Alistair continued, resting his cheek against the top of Wraith's head. "Which one of our companions would be insane enough to fire a ballista inside Fort Drakon?"
"A better question is which one of our companions isn't that insane," Wraith replied equably.
"Wynne. Wynne is far too sane to do something like that." Alistair's voice was firm. "And it would never occur to Sten."
"Sten stole cookies from a child," Wraith pointed out.
"True, but that's a far cry from launching large metal bolts inside a building. I think we can leave Sten on the sane list, along with Shadow." Alistair turned his head to nuzzle Wraith's hair.
Wraith chuckled again. "Mabari can't use weapons, so that's a safe assumption. Leliana?"
"Crazy as they come, but not quite that crazy." Alistair grinned a little, beginning to enjoy the game.
"It's not Zevran's style, and Morrigan would just use magic," Wraith mused. "That leaves Oghren."
Alistair began to laugh, an uncommon sound in those dour halls.
"We really need to go over the rules," Alistair muttered, digging through the chest outside the cell where his possessions, and Wraith's, had been stored.
"So you will vilipend your rescuers?" Morrigan inquired. " A modicum of appreciation would be preferable, one would think."
"Besides, it worked splendidly as a diversion," Zevran added cheerfully, cleaning his blades on the nearest tapestry. "Dogs, why is it always dogs?" The Antivan looked at the tapestry and shuddered.
Wraith rested his hand on Alistair's shoulder. "We're very grateful, honestly. Even more so that the whole Fort didn't collapse around us." Alistair snorted and Wraith reached past his lover to fish out his swords. "What can we expect on the way out?"
"So businesslike and dour. You really need to learn how to relax, my dear Warden." Zevran flashed Wraith a sultry grin. "Maybe a massage later?"
"Will you never give up?" Morrigan groaned. "We cleared out most of the guards past the entrance hall, but the remaining guards will be alerted to our presence."
"Ballistas do that," Alistair mumbled.
Alistair lay sprawled on his stomach on the bed in the room he shared with Wraith at Eamon's estate. Wraith was propped on one elbow, his free hand tracing the faint scars on Alistair's back from the many encounters they had survived since Ostagar.
"You broached the idea of marriage to Anora, didn't you?" Alistair did not sound pleased.
"Yes," Wraith admitted. "It's the strongest chance to prevail at the Landsmeet."
Alistair turned to face Wraith, his green-gold eyes smoldering. "I didn't give you an answer yet. You had no right."
"I had every right," Wraith retorted. "I'm the one giving you up."
Alistair looked at Wraith. "Whatever happened to 'I'm yours, however it has to be'?"
"Do you still want that?" Wraith asked.
"What do you think?" Alistair replied, reaching for Wraith. His lips fastened onto Wraith's lips, the elf opening into the kiss with a soft moan. Alistair ground his cock against Wraith's thigh, urgent in his need, and Wraith pressed back. "Maker, Wraith, I am not giving you up."
Alistair moved, faster than Wraith expected, and the elf found himself flipped onto his stomach, Alistair's hands tugging his hips until Wraith was on his knees, his face pressed down into the pillows. Alistair slicked his cock with oil, and pressed his moistened fingers against Wraith's tight pucker, feeling Wraith open for him easily. Wraith bucked his hips backward against Alistair's fingers, another soft moan escaping him.
"Emma lath, please," Wraith managed, his voice hoarse.
Alistair breached Wraith's ass in a single thrust, driving himself fully into the tight heat hard enough to push the smaller elf forward. Wraith grunted a bit as he braced himself, feeling Alistair withdraw almost all the way before he shoved forward again, a strangled sound somewhere between a groan and a sob escaping the man.
Alistair kept up the rough pace, almost angry as he continued to pound into Wraith, the sounds closer to sobs now. Wraith tried to twist around to see Alistair's face to no avail. Alistair pushed against Wraith's back, pressing between his shoulder blades, and Wraith stopped moving for a moment.
Alistair froze, and Wraith felt a shudder run through the man. "What am I doing? Maker, Wraith, I'm sorry."
"No, don't, it's alright," Wraith pleaded, but Alistair dragged himself off Wraith and collapsed with a low groan of despair.
"You're the last person I should be taking this out on," Alistair mumbled. "I hate this, all of it. I never wanted to be king, and now that I've agreed to it, I'm ruining what I care about most. I'm ruining us."
Wraith reached out to wrap his arms around Alistair. "Then don't marry Anora. We'll make it work somehow. Maybe this lead of hers will help."
Alistair wriggled free to turn and face Wraith. "Just like that?"
"Just like that," Wraith replied. "We'll figure it out." He moved closer, wanting the comfort of Alistair's arms, frightened by how far he had been willing to go to win over the Landsmeet. Was this how Loghain began? Wraith shivered, and Alistair held him, but the chill in the elf's veins did not fade.

Prompt word: Villipend
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Samahlen