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Sizzle! Burn! Steam!	By : Hatsepsut Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 26111 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Bioware owns the Dragon Age universe, the characters and my soul. I make no money out of this.

Chapter List
- 5
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“Serah Hawke,” she was jerked out of her thoughts by the voice of Aveline’s new husband, Donnic. She send the man a warm smile. She liked Donnic, if not for his own sake then just for the fact that he had made Aveline happy. But what was not to like of him? He was a strong, dependable man, polite and courteous and always there for her friend; like a big steady rock for her to lean on.
He wasn’t half bad to look at too.
“Donnic,” she smiled. “Good to see you. Where is Aveline?”
“She is..she is at home,” Donnic gave an uncharacteristic stutter, blushed the tiniest bit and then, looking nervously around sat down beside her. “May we talk?”
Hawke felt a wave of apprehension come over her. What was this? She hoped to the Maker that he wasn’t prepared to make a pass on her, because she would castrate the man.
“What is it?” she asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“Aveline...” Donnic stuttered. “ Serah Hawke, this is...this is uncomfortable, but I have to ask.”
“Ask about what, Donnic?” she tensed.
He bend his head over his clenched hands on the table. “Aveline’s first husband...Wesley. Ser Wesley. You did know him, correct?”
Hawke let the breath she had been holding go with a soft whoosh of relief.
“Just barely. He died on the flight form Lothering. He...”
“I know how he died,” Donnic interrupted her, uncharacteristically. It was not usual for the guard to be impolite, which only served to demonstrate how awkward the conversation was for him. “Aveline and I have talked about it, at length. What I need to know is...” he cleared his throat, “was he handsome?”
“Handsome?” Hawke repeated, completely baffled. “Yes, he was a handsome man, for a templar. What is this all about, Donnic?”
Donnic turned even redder and suddenly, Hawke’s eyes opened wide in understanding. Donnic was comparing himself to Aveline’s late husband. What had the tactless woman done? Called out Wesley’s name while he was fucking her or something?
She gave him a smile, which she hoped was encouraging, and gently prodded, “are you concerned she might be thinking of him still?”
“I am concerned I might....not be ...enough for her,” Donnic was now redder than a ripe tomato.
“Sexually, you mean?” Hawke pursed her lips, enjoying his awkwardness, the little prankster in her wanting to have some fun. “What did she do, Donnic? Measured your...assets with a ruler?”
Donnic blushed even more, coughed, stuttered, shot her a strict look, got up and walked away.

Well. That was interesting. Wait until Isabela learned about it.

Aveline sighed and took another gulp of her strong whiskey. Hawke just gave her an indulgent, encouraging smile, or what she hoped was one. Maker knew, her smiles were more often described as cheeky, or saucy, than encouraging. Not her fault, really. That was just the way she was wired.
“So, Donnic came to see you...”Aveline fiddled with her glass. “Are you going to tell me what about?”
“If you promise I won’t get a bas relief of your shield crest on my lovely face, I just might.”
Aveline narrowed her eyes. “You just might, Hawke. Tell me you didn’t flirt with my husband.”
Hawke raised both her hands in the air. “He came to me, Aveline, not the other way around.”
Aveline’s eyes narrowed even more. “Okay, then,” she drawled menacingly. “Tell me he didn’t flirt with you, then.”
“No, but he requested some...interesting information.”
Aveline’s eyes bulged and she hiccupped on her drink. “Donnic asked you...about me?? What about?”
“Not about you,” Hawke smiled, enjoying herself. “He wanted to know about Wesley. How handsome he was, and things like that...I have a feeling he would have asked about your late husband’s ...virility, if he hadn’t lost his nerve.”
Aveline’s face turned as red as her hair. “Oh, Maker,” she gasped, mortified. “Why would he...”
Hawke’s smile grew a bit wider. “What did you do, Aveline? Make comparisons? The man actually admitted to being afraid he wasn’t...enough for you, if you get what I mean?”
Aveline shot up and started pacing in front of the fireplace, deigning to shoot her friend a scathing look. “My sex life is none of your business. Butt out of it.”
She continued pacing, and then abruptly, she came to a stop, her shoulders hunched and she sighed, her back still turned to Hawke.
“He might have gotten the impression...that...I...that I wasn’t really satisfied with...”
“Aren’t you?”
The red-haired guard captain whipped her head around, annoyed once again. “Of course I am! I just didn’t want him to think I was...”
“Promiscuous?”
Aveline’s shoulders fell again.

Hawke got up, laughing, and embraced her friend. “Oh Aveline!” she chided. “For such a clever woman you are profoundly idiotic sometimes...Go find Isabela. She has some tips that will help. There is nothing to be ashamed of when giving your man pleasure...trust me.”

Donnic went into his modest house, the one he had been sharing with Aveline these past few months, with a weary body and a heavy heart. Things between him and his wife were not...well, were not good. They had had a fight the previous night, because he had dared propose something more...adventurous in bed and she had been insulted.
It was getting increasingly difficult to juggle his two roles; in the barracks he was her subordinate, one of her guards, required to follow orders and show proper respect. But in their own house he wanted to be on top, he wanted to be the man in the relationship. Not take his cue from her. Even Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall, was, from snippets of conversation he had heard, more...submissive to Fenris in the bedroom. He had tried talking to his friend about his predicament, eager for advice, but the elf had growled and told him to just bend the Guard Captain over a table and show her who was the man in the house.
Hmph. Big words. Aveline was...intimidating, to say the least. And she seemed to bulk every time he tried to propose something more...risqué. She had actually told him that he should have married Isabela if those were the things he expected of her in bed. Damn...he was a healthy, virile man, insanely in love with his wife; all he wanted was to show her how much he wanted her. Why was she being so defensive, unless...her previous husband. Obviously, he had been better at this than him.

Lost in thought, he walked through the bedroom door, half way into removing his chestpiece and his pauldrons, when he came to an abrupt halt. He looked around him, a wide disbelieving look on his face. The whole room was illuminated by soft candlelight, aromatic candles on every surface; but what really made his breath catch was his wife, Aveline, dressed in a barely there, silk negligee, her long red hair loose, lying on the bed, waiting for him, with a half expectant, half embarrassed smile.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked a few minutes later, lying there on his stomach, totally naked, shivers of anticipation running through his frame.
“Hush, husband,” she murmured in a low seductive voice he hadn’t heard from her before, while straddling his waist. Maker, she was naked under that flimsy thing, he realised with a jolt as her centre rubbed over the small of his back, wet and hot against his heated skin. He stifled a moan, as her hands, rough and calloused from handling a sword all day started spreading oil all over his shoulder and back.
A massage. She had said she was going to devote herself to his pleasure tonight. Maker. What has gotten into her? Scratch that, I don’t care, he thought as her hands started rubbing the oil on his flesh, talented fingers running down the length of his spine and then up again, over his taut shoulders, gently massaging away the tension.
He heard a slight ruffling sound behind him, and turned over his shoulder to watch her fling that silky little scrap of a nightgown away, remaining gloriously naked in he soft candlelight. He bit his lip at the sight of her pert breasts, tipped with coral nipples and adorned with freckles. He loved her breasts, usually concealed under her heavy armour but now free and slightly jiggling, firm and yet so pliant. Donnic’s mouth watered at the memory of the first time he had taken those pert, raspberry like nipples in his mouth and the sounds she had made.
“Give me a taste, wife,” he growled, his eyes fixed on her, but she just smiled and bent over him, rubbing herself over the oiled muscles of his back. She smirked with feminine pride at the little moan that escaped him at the feeling of her breasts rubbing all over his back, while her hand snuck underneath him to tangle in the coarse pelt of hair on his chest looking for the small, flat disks of his nipples and pinching them. Donnic though he would go blind from desire as her whole body settled on top of his, rubbing sensually over him, her nipples, hard little points rasping against his back, her hot, moist centre wetting the small of his back, her hands on his chest, thrumming his nipples.
With a groan, he turned over, careful as not to upset her balance and raised his hands to cup her breasts, his shaft rubbing at her entrance. She moaned, throwing her head back and rode his shaft, rubbing it shamelessly with her dripping cleft, letting it slide between her drenched folds.
Just as Donnic was ready to angle his hips just so, and lose himself in her heat, she drew away and slapped his hands down.
“No, no,” she breathlessly protested. “I said this night was dedicated to you, Donnic, don’t make me tie you down. I want to pleasure you.”
He resisted, already frustrated, his shaft leaking precum, desperate to be inside her. “Open up then, wife,” he pleaded. “Nothing is as good as being inside you.”
She leaned down to kiss him, and then smiled, a small hint of insecurity still in her eyes.
“Isabela told me of...a trick. I want to try it. Is that okay?”
Donnic tensed a bit at the mention of the pirate’s name. Coming from Isabela it had to be something very...Maker, even he didn’t know what to call it. One part of him was thrilled she was willing to try one of the lusty pirate’s tricks and the other was intimidated. After all, this was one of Isabela’s tricks. Who knew what it entailed?
“Does it involve pain?” he smiled, and Aveline blushed.
“She said it would be the most pleasurable thing you have ever experienced...” she bit her lip. “But it involves...fingers...in unusual...places.” she stuttered.
Donnic’s eyes flew open. He had heard of things like that, but he would never think Aveline would want to...Had he even understood right?
“Mine or yours?”
She bit her lip again, redder in the face than her hair.
“Mine. In yours.”

Donnic’s head fell back with a moan. Maker help him.

Minutes later, he was back to being reduced to a shivering, totally relaxed, warm puddle of goo, as his wife’s hands rubbed over his body. She had started out at this calves and was now making her way upwards, releasing tension knots on his legs that he hadn’t even been aware had been there. She could do anything to him as long as those rough but oh, so talented fingers continued rubbing his muscles.
She reached his buttocks and he tensed just a bit when she poured oil all over the firm globes of flesh, and it trickled in the crack between them. She started kneading and fondling his flesh and Donnic was surprised at how pleasurable the feeling was; especially when her fingers strayed timidly in the crack and rubbed around the hidden entrance there. Donnic was not a man that had ever entertained thoughts about other men, and this was something that in his mind was irrevocably connected to gay sex. He wasn’t homophobic, far from it, some of his best friends, and even some fellow guardsmen, were in loving relationships with other men. He had never felt any curiosity though, and now he was shocked at how easily he accepted his hole being probed; maybe the fact that it was his own wife doing it was enough to make him more perceptive to things he would never have agreed to.
He briefly wondered how he had gotten in this position; being submissive under her rather than assuming a more dominant role as he had wanted. But Aveline was who she was, and he loved her. Her need to be in control was, after all, turning out to be quite enjoyable for him. With a sigh he decided to give in, and see where this would take them. Maybe he could follow Fenris’ advice the next time. Maybe this needn’t be a battle for dominance. Maybe they could take turns.
A finger gently probing his ass jerked him out of his thoughts, and he shot her a wide-eyed, incredulous look over his shoulder, his whole body tensing in surprise as that finger penetrated, shooting a small arrow of pain and discomfort through him. She was red-faced and nibbling on her lip, and their eyes briefly met, a hesitant, did-I-go-too-far look in her eyes and mild shock in his. She blushed even more and started to withdraw, but a nod from Donnic stopped her. The discomfort had eased. In fact it felt quite nice.
Taking courage form his affirmative nod, Aveline slipped her finger deeper, and crooked it downwards, just as Isabela had instructed her. She found the spot the pirate had told her about and tentatively, carefully, rubbed the tip of her finger over it. Her mouth fell open when she saw Donnic close his eyes let out a deep, pleasured moan. Did he...did he really enjoy that? She had half expected Isabela’s descriptions to be a ploy to embarrass her. She had half expected Donnic to be furious at even the insinuation...but it appeared as if her strapping, stoic guardsman was enjoying himself.
There is a hidden spot, Isabela had told her, a gland, called the prostate. Massage it, and you can make him cum buckets....

Her cheeks flamed up again. Maker, it seemed the slut hadn’t been lying.

Donnic fisted his hands in the bed sheets and tried desperately not to moan like a bitch in heat. Her fingers were working wonders. Two of them were buried deep inside him now, and their insistent rubbing over a very pleasurable spot was making him cross-eyes with incredible arousal. His cock was caught underneath him, swelling against his belly and he rocked his hips, desperately trying to ease the almost painful erection, rutting against the soft sheets.
Aveline’s breath was coming in short excited pants behind him, and he could feel her heated centre leaking its moisture over the back of his thighs; he dared not turn back and look at her, though. The last time he had, he had nearly lost it right there and then, seeing his normally reserved, blow-off-the-candles-before-we-do-this wife staring at her fingers disappearing into him with a lustful look on her face, while her other hand was busy rubbing between her own legs. The sight of her fingers drenched into the cream flowing from between her spread thighs had been enough to almost push him over the edge.
Beaten puppies. Sick children. Darkspawn. The Grand Cleric naked. Get a hold of yourself, guardsman.

He couldn’t resist letting out another ragged moan when she added a third finger, though.

How long had this been going on? Minutes, hours, days? Donnic couldn’t tell. All he knew was that his mind had long ago been fogged with incredible pleasure, that there was a fire building up inside that would probably turn him into ashes when it finally broke out, and that his wife was -something he would never have imagined- a minx.
Donnic had given up the effort not to make embarrassing needy sounds, and now he was moaning and panting and grunting like a pig, caught between pain, pleasure, and a climax that was building up from the soles of his feet to the tips of his hair, threatening to break his body in two. His cock was so hot, he was sure the sheets would have combusted into flames if a steady stream of precum hadn’t been soaking into them for the past minutes.
He instinctively started arching his hips upward, thrusting against her tormenting fingers, almost on all fours, supporting himself on a strong corded forearm, while his other hand went to work on his own shaft, pumping furiously. Aveline was panting, on her knees behind him, eyes dilated, her own hand working her clit furiously, the sight of her husband, usually so controlled and stoic, a trembling mass of quivering muscles and begging whimpers more erotic than she could ever have dreamt.
“Please...” he whimpered, “Aveline. Love. Please.”
She withdrew her fingers, struck by sudden inspiration, and ignoring his protest, helped him turn over and came face to face with the most impressive erection her already impressively sized husband had ever sported. She just froze there for a second, gazing at it with wide eyes and a slacked jaw, swollen to a massive size, almost purple with arousal, beads of pearly fluids gushing out, while Donnic’s fist pumped up and down. Did she dare? She had never done that before, but the sight was... mouth-watering. Too far gone to care what he thought of her anymore, and aroused beyond bearing, she leaned forward and wrapped her lips over the flared head of his erection, bringing her hand back into his hole to massage him again, while her other hand slapped his away and wrapped around his twitching length.
The moan that left him was that of a nearly dying man, filling her with feminine pride. She started rubbing that spot again, and Donnic’s hips surged upward, burying his length in her throat, while he writhed and muttered and groaned and pleaded. His virile taste, his musky smell, his panting, ragged groans pushed her over the edge and she came just at the sight of his pleasure, her throat muscles clenching around him as her whole body tensed and then released in a glorious climax, a moan working itself from deep inside her lungs and reverberating against his cock.
It was all Donnic could take. He threw his head back and punched a fist into the wall behind his head as his body started convulsing, his cock swelled at twice its size and he started coming. Aveline kept her eyes locked on him, desperate to remember him like this, his throat trying to draw enough breath to scream his pleasure as endless jets of seed started shooting into her mouth. She did her best to swallow down as much as she could, but it was too much and in the end she released his shaft, watching in awe as he did literally come buckets of pearly white seed all over his stomach and chest. It seemed to be going on for ages, Donnic whimpering as one jet subsided to be immediately followed by another one, amid his moans and pleas and desperate shaking.
Multiple male orgasm. Wow. Isabela hadn’t been kidding.
She mentally made a note to thank the pirate later, before snuggling next to her handsome husband and cradling his still trembling frame to her, whispering softly in his ear to help him come down from his incredible high. When he finally calmed down enough to speak in coherent phrases, Donnic turned to her and captured her lips into a gentle, grateful kiss, sighing happily.
She rose on one elbow to look at him, a worried look in her eyes.
“I hope...I hope you haven’t lost your respect for me after this, husband,” she whispered, avoiding his eyes.
Donnic tried to hold back but in the end he just started laughing.
“Don’t be absurd, wife,” he stroked her face. “I loved it. Didn’t you see how much I loved it?” and he gestured to the pools of seed that were covering his torso, a faint blush spreading.
She smiled and grabbed the discarded sheet to tenderly clean him up, while he looked on with a soft smile.
“Remind me to thank Isabela,” he muttered before falling back and sighing again. “Does she have any more tricks like that?”
Aveline wrapped a hand against his still semi-erect length and pumped gently, making him gasp and then shoot her an interested look. Amazingly, he started getting aroused again.
“I’m sure she does,” Aveline whispered, blushing slightly before bending down to kiss and lick his slowly hardening shaft.
“And if she doesn’t, Fenris had some...helpful suggestions of his own,” Donnic sighed.
She raised an eyebrow at him, before an inquisitive smile curled her lips.
“It involved, you, a table, bending over, and your ass being spanked.” Donnic explained. “And fingers...and other things...in unusual places.”
Aveline pretended to be thinking about it for a second.
“Mine, or yours?”
“Mine,” he replied. “In yours.”
- 5
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Sizzle! Burn! Steam!