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Blackpowder Dominance	By : TropicalFool Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 2888 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Dragon Age & all characters are owned by BioWare & EA, not me. I make no money from this story.

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Sitting, the Arishok said, "We shall use the common tongue. I wish no confusion on your part about anything that I order you to do. Strip."
Well, Anders really would not have expected the Qunari to be anything but decisive, however he was still startled by the clinical command. It was said in exactly the slightly bored, impersonal voice that he used with patients. Looking at the Arishok, he saw a small smile playing about his lips and wondered if that was exactly the intent, a mocking of their first meeting when Anders had said those words to his large patient.
He sat to remove his boots, placing them against the wall where they would be out of the way. He then stood, dropped his belt, and unfastened the few buckles holding his robes in place. He let them fall around his feet and stood naked before the Arishok.
"Efficient," was the comment, then as the giant focused on the mage's erect penis, "You are built like a pony, although not so large." It was true that his human organ more resembled a horse's than the gracefully curved appendage of the Qunari. He almost shot back, 'And you are built like a dog,' but thought better of insulting his master so early in the evening.
He had been fascinated when he first saw a Qunari penis in the course of his ministering to the small colony. More like that of the bull their horns resembled than a human's, it was nevertheless almost as thick as his wrist in it's flaccid state. It was smoother, with a more pronounced curve than a man's, and tapered at the tip rather than having a blunt head. It nestled within a neat enclosing sheath that required the patient to reach within and withdraw the organ before it could be examined. At the time, the mage had wondered why humans were not so equipped. Certainly that compact protective sheath was more practical than a frail foreskin.
The Arishok rose languidly and laid his large hand on Anders' bare chest, allowing his fingers to explore while he murmured, "Soft, so soft." The hand moved behind his neck and the large horned head descended, the lips opening over slightly pointed teeth. The mage found himself shy at the kissing, pinning his tongue to the floor of his mouth, while the Qunari explored at will. The strength and length of the muscular appendage was startling. The Arishok easily reached the back of his throat and beyond, causing the mage to struggle to control his gag reflex. This elicited a soft chuckle as the Qunari withdrew and said, "So soon I am too much for you. You may live to regret this night. Then again, you may not."
With that chillingly ambiguous statement, he instructed, "Remove my clothing. Slowly and exactly as I instruct." Each buckle and lace was enumerated, the mage directed in exacting detail in the ways of the Qunari garments. As he worked, he started to understand what the Arishok meant when he called Anders soft. Although the mage was a fit as any man, there was a thin layer of fat beneath his skin that was completely missing in the giant. It was as if his flesh were stretched over a hard wooden form with no give at all. Contemplating this, the healer longed for an opportunity to dissect one of the Qunari. What other wonders of comparative anatomy might he find?
He had removed the various straps and robes that constituted the top part of the elaborate garment. The Arishok held up a hand and sat, extending a leg so that the mage could remove his boots. It was a practice that Anders was used to—he swung a leg over, facing away, and started to pull the heel loose. As the boot came off, it fell to the ground, almost taking the mage with it. Grunting, Anders bent and retrieved the errant footwear. It required most of his strength to lift it and he staggered as he carried it to the wall to sit next to his own more modest boots.
When he turned, the Northerner was holding up the other leg, moving it up and down invitingly. Again mounting in the position best suited for wrenching off a recalcitrant boot, Anders almost jumped when he felt a bare calloused toe stroking his backside. Trying to ignore the rough motion, Anders loosened the heel of the boot and braced himself to free it. As he was ready to pull, steeling himself for the weight, a large toe sunk itself into him with perfect aim. He shouted in surprise and shot across the room, the heavy boot clutched protectively to his chest.
Rising, his expression accusatory, he was greeted by an Arishok who was doubled over in laughter, pounding on his knee. "Ah, little human," he gasped, when he could speak at all, "it promises to be a most interesting evening indeed."
Rubbing his bruised posterior ruefully, Anders placed the boot next to its mate and awaited the next command. The Arishok stood and resumed his careful directions for the removal of his clothing, watching to assure that each order was carried out precisely.
When the last sash was loosened, the last belt unbuckled, the last swath of fabric unwrapped, the Qunari stood naked and proud before the awed gaze of the human. The beast was magnificent. His shoulders were twice as wide as the mage's, narrowing to hips almost as slim and… standing deep red and proud, the fully erect manifestation of what Anders had only seen in the flaccid state before.
In the undressing, the Arishok had been careful that, other than having to unhook the occasional garment from the hard prong, the mage did not touch or see what the was to reveal. It was cleverly done to make the unveiling all the more impressive.
Blinking in admiration and trepidation, the mage tentatively held out a hand, not quite daring to touch. He looked up at the Qunari, and received a nod. The rod was shiny and smooth with a large vein running up the underside to the pointed head. Touching first with a single finger, Anders then boldly wrapped his hand around the staff midway, shocked when he found that his fingers and thumb did not meet. He stood for a moment considering how small his hand looked, not quite surrounding the organ, then slid it up until, near the tip, fingers finally met thumb. The Arishok was observing him with amusement, his head tipped to the side and a smile playing about the corners of his wide mouth.
Unwinding the hand, the Qunari brought it to his lips, licking and sucking the fingers as Anders found that his erection, which had withered at the first sight of the giant appendage, was now rising anew. The Arishok paid close attention to his task, working his long and powerful tongue between the fingers and up the underside of the wrist, then abruptly dropped the hand and drifted to the thick pile of furs and elegant fabrics in a dim corner. On his way, he snagged the lamp from the game table, turning up the wick and setting it near the head of the bed.
Slowly he lowered his bulk, pulling pillows behind him so that he was propped in the corner, his legs spread, one foot carelessly over the edge. Looking directly at the mage, with a negligent gesture he indicated the staff growing between his legs, then cupped the hairy, bull heavy balls, bouncing them in invitation.
Seeing the red striped white skin of that magnificent frame accentuated by the equally red organ gilded by lamplight, Anders gasped at the shear beauty of the form before him. He had thought the Arishok a handsome creature from the first time he saw him, but now, laid out casually, but nobly, naked before him, the sight was overwhelming.
As if in a trance, he approached, dropping to his knees between the outstretched legs, his head lowered, awaiting direction.
"Your mouth and both hands," the Arishok commanded, "as you would to a human. Let me see how it is that love is made in your world."
Thinking that no man he had ever met would require both hands, the mage nonetheless complied, grasping the staff and lowing his head onto the pointed end. He was so startled by the taste of cinnamon that he almost jumped back. Of all the things he had expected, the alluring flavor of cinnamon and something else… butter? was not on his list. Smiling around his overfilled mouth, he started to lick and suck with greater enthusiasm, thinking that there was much to like about a Qunari as a bedmate.
The Arishok continued to observe, making suggestions now and again, primarily requesting a stronger grip and more vigor in the pumping and licking. Anders' hand was cramping and his mouth ached when the giant finally said, "Enough. You have done well for your limited abilities."
He pulled the mage up onto his chest, running thick fingers through long blond hair, licking at the ears and nibbling alarmingly at the carotid with sharp teeth. The Qunari's large hands closed on Anders' lean buttocks, easily lifting him and placing him like a doll on the giant's chest, his cock rising before the Arishok's fascinated gaze. The Qunari's tongue shot out, wrapping itself completely around the mage's staff as Anders bit his lip to keep from coming. No sensation he had ever had came close to what he was now feeling as that muscular, infinitely pliable organ worked its way up and down, grasping, squeezing, teasing. The pointed end of the tongue found the hole at the tip of the mage's penis and began forcing it's way inside until Anders shouted in protest. The lingual tease immediately ceased as the Qunari drew his tongue back to laugh heartily. "So, small one," he said, "that is not pleasing? Are you a gentle flower, requiring only the softest touch?"
In truth, Anders felt like saying "Yes," in a small voice, but instead tried to explain the vagaries of human anatomy while gently stroking his abused organ with a healing finger. This the Arishok observed with great interest, saying, "Tell me mage, how much damage can you sustain? How much can you heal yourself and how quickly?"
In the circumstances, it was clearly not an academic question, and Anders shuddered in fear and desire. The question was delicately phrased, but the meaning was clear: would he take the Arishok within himself, and if so, how much before it was too much and his abilities, and likely his life, fled him. When he had been laying on the giant earlier, he felt that trunk like organ tickling between his pectorals. In both length and girth it was more than any human could accept in toto… but in part? There was no denying the icy fear between his shoulder blades, but it was offset by the burning in his loins. He knew himself to be mad, but he did want to know his limits and he did want to know the feeling of that cinnamon scented organ within him, to feel the orgasm of the Qunari, whatever that may be like, to experience what he may never have the opportunity to experience again.
The giant was eying him speculatively, and Anders blushed, at the same time thinking what an odd reaction that was. He felt rather like a school girl with her first beau, unsure and frightened, but also ardent.
"So, you want this," the Arishok rumbled. "Not that it would matter, since you are mine to command, and it is something I desire. But I like you mage, so I would have you survive the night, if possible. Are we in agreement on that?"
Anders head was nodding so vigorously he thought it might come unhinged when he saw the slight smile on the Arishok's face. Still not sure if it was a joke or not, he decided it was not a time to take that risk and said, "Yes. Yes, surviving the night is something that I would much prefer to, well, to the alternative."
Again the Qunari laughed in his deep resonant way, a sound that Anders was beginning to find strangely comforting, however his words were less so. "I make no promises, but I shall endeavor to be gentle, within reason, with your delicate self. You should know, though, that once the," he used a Qunari word unfamiliar to Anders, but the meaning was clear, "is upon me, I may not have the control I would wish. It is a risk, but a risk I am willing to take."
Anders wondered if, after all that he had been through, with the Circle, in Amaranthine, in Kirkwall, the dragons and bandits and other perils, if it were all to end tonight on the tip of a fleshy Qunari spear. He mentally shrugged, although his heart beat a rapid tattoo. He only hoped that if he died, the exact manner was not bruited about, much as Varric would treasure the tale.
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Blackpowder Dominance