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Disclaimer: I have to write this twice, do I? Well fine. "Dragon Age: Origins" is owned by Bioware/EA Games. I am not profiting from this fanfiction. Once again, read below to understand the fact that I write these disclaimers, to perfection, on E

Chapter List
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Disclaimer: �Dragon Age� is property of EA Games. . .and possibly other things. I am not profiting from this fanfiction.

(Note: Set in the Arl Eamon�s estate in Denerim, shortly after arriving. My hero is Melanie Cousland, female human rogue. She has light blue eyes and red hair in the bun model. Her romantic interest is Alistair. Her POV. This is a continuation of I�m Yours, describing the love scene.)

Whole

�Ah!�

My cry surprised me, halfway between a moan and a gasp. Maybe it shouldn�t have surprised me –
after giving so many new reactions to what Alistair was doing to me, you�d think nothing could shock me anymore. But, somehow, they just kept coming.

I could see how nervous he was, stressing with worry about whether or not he was doing everything right. I wished I could relax him, promise him that everything he did was beyond right: it was divine. I felt like I was being touched by a God. No, better than that –
not even the Maker could have made me feel this way. Compared to the man in my arms, the Maker would be nothing more than a boy, if that.

It also surprised me that I could think so deeply while his lips moved against the peak of my breast, forcing me to breathe deep breaths in an effort to keep some semblance of control. And then his hands; it was as though every part of him that could pleasure me, was. And they worked so well together, at that. . !

The feel of his hand trailing along my inner thigh, knee to juncture, was like nothing else I�d ever felt. I�d never get enough of it.

�Ali. . .stair,� I managed, my breathing breaking his name into two.

�I�m here,� he replied, hardly a breath it was so quiet. His gift for words was prevailing even now, when I couldn�t have strung together two words to save my life.

Then again, his sentence had been just that: two words. It was probably too gracious of me to assume he had more control than I did. . .

Especially given the fact that my lack of coherency was the only detraction I was suffering. Everything else was following my orders quite well, if a little limited at the moment. After all, what could I reach now, beyond his face, his shoulders, his chest, his ribs? Very little.

One of my hands twitched with inaction, so I put it to use. I trailed my fingertips –
lightly, be very light –
up his ribs from hip to collar bone, curving around his front as they went. He shivered, then moaned softly. It made me shiver in response, the feel of his warm breath against my breast, wet from his mouth. The peak hardened in response.

He trailed his mouth across my skin, from one breast to the other, kissing every inch. I arched my back off the bed by the time he�d made half the trip, and he lifted his head with the move –
not stopping, just keeping it consistent. I was impressed by the amount of self-control he was displaying.

And a little annoyed. My body was throbbing, wanting him. Hold me tighter, I wanted to say. Be a little rougher. Take me hard. I don�t have the patience for this.

Patient or not, I couldn�t fight against him. For one thing, I knew how much he wanted to do this the right way. For another, he was stronger than I; how well could I possibly fight against him? And, most of all, I didn�t want to fight him. I wanted him –
and I wanted him to have me any way he liked. If he wanted to be slow and thorough, then I would acquiesce.

My body wasn�t the only throbbing part of me that I was aware of. My heart was even stronger. Each pulse and beat reminded me of the reality of this moment, and promised more in the future. All for him. For Alistair. I was alive just for this man.

It didn�t anger me to know that I was here for him and not myself; I needed him far too much to ever be mad with him. Instead, I found myself smiling, biting my lips, moaning for him. To be owned by such a man was something to be treasured, not rejected. The more I relaxed, the more I gave myself over to him, the more pleasure I received. �Divine� was no longer an applicable word.

I needed a better vocabulary.

He was moving again now, sharpening my focus. He slid down me, little by little, never lifting his mouth from my skin. His little butterfly kisses sent delicious shivers through me, kicking up my heart rate further as his mouth lowered more and more. . .

He paused at my navel, dipping his tongue to taste the skin there. My fingers sought out his hair to hold him there. It was conflicting in a certain way; I never wanted him to stop, yet at the same time, I couldn�t wait to feel him inside of me. That was the moment I was most impatient for, even as a part of me kept crying out for him to keep touching me, keep kissing me, keep tasting me.

His hands were shaking worse than ever as they gripped my thighs. That was my first clue of what he was planning to do next, right before he took a shaky breath and held it. I was biting deep into my bottom lip by the time he finally moved those few more inches down me –
pausing to kiss my hip bone; was he hesitating?

The feel of his tongue at my flower sent me skyrocketing. I couldn�t hold onto him anymore; I needed something less breakable. My hands gripped the pillow on either side of my head, my back arched off the bed, and the cry that ripped from my throat was loud and erotic.

Clearly he realized that this was a good sign. His lips and tongue started a kind of dance my lower folds. For the first time, I completely lost my ability to think. I was already wet, anticipating the next stage of the night. But at the same time, I was ensnared by waves of euphoria.

I wasn�t lying when I told him he owned me, every last little piece. If anything, I had been too modest. My reactions could lead to no other conclusion.

Three lovers had never made me lift off the bed, nor grip the pillow, nor render me mute, nor make my heart pound this furiously. Three lovers had never caused me to cry out the way he was making me. Only one person held the power to manipulate me this way. Only one person could ever raise these feelings in me.

And the more he pressed his tongue to me, the more he kissed and sucked on the flesh before him, the more that truth was proven. As I lacked any ability to speak at the moment, I hoped the truth was clear to him. I wasn�t sure I�d be able to focus on anything after this; not enough to speak to him about it, certainly.

I was gasping now. It was uncontrollable. My chest heaved in deep, harsh breaths, the movements in time with how my hips bucked. Thank the Maker he was so strong; his hands held me in place while he worked at my core. I wet my lips, flexed my fingers, curled my toes; I could do so little. . .

The pooling of heat in my belly signaled to me how close I was to breaking. A part of me wanted to forestall it; I wanted to shatter with him, not before. But that was a stupid thing to hope for. How could I ever pull enough control out of me to say the words to him before it happened?

My throat constricted as the feelings kept piling up, changing my gasps and cries to whimpers and low moans. Alistair, oh Alistair. . .what you do to me. . .

Wait. Wait. . . Waitwaitwait. . .

All at once I couldn�t get enough air to my lungs. My racing heart was going too fast; there was never enough oxygen to reach it. My body went wild. I twisted and heaved, the whimpers growing louder. My head was screaming for more –
the only word it recognized anymore –
and Alistair, gifted by the Maker, seemed to hear it. He was devouring me more fiercely now.

And then I shattered.

I was expecting to hear myself cry out, but in actuality, I had no idea if I had or not. My ears were ringing, my entire body tensed, bright sparks firing off behind my closed eyes. After an endless few seconds of an electric, pulsing pleasure, I felt myself relax, my jaw closing. I slumped back on the bed, panting harshly. My fingers uncurled from the pillow but could move no further.

This annoyed me. More than anything, I wanted to hold him now. What a stupid thing to want; I had no strength left in me. My body had changed from flesh and bone to water, shivering in the aftershocks of the single most amazing moment of my life. I committed everything I could to memory while my thoughts were coherent –
I was certain the night was far from over, so I might as well take what few moments I had to memorize everything I could.

�Melanie?�

It took a great amount of effort to peel back my eyelids, finding that he was poised over my stomach, watching me. I couldn�t decipher his expression –
it looked like he was halfway confused, but also prideful. That didn�t fit. Either he knew what he�d done to me and was proud of himself, or he wasn�t as knowledgeable as most men his age and had no idea what I�d just felt.

I smiled at him. �You are amazing,� I told him.

His grin was offset by his blush. �You surprised me,� he replied, quiet –
or breathless?

I moaned softly. �That�s going to be happening a lot tonight, I think.� Now that I could feel my bones again, I pushed myself up, sitting. He had to lift himself with, and then we were an inch apart. I kissed him, one hand going to rest on his neck.

I felt him shift, and then his arms went around me, holding me tight against him. His kiss was rougher than mine, biting my lips when my slow response didn�t unlock my jaw fast enough. I moaned again when his tongue began sweeping inside my mouth, tasting my own juices as he did so. But when he leaned into me, intent on laying me down, I pushed back.

It was, no doubt, surprise that made him follow my lead, rolling so he was beneath me. I had a very specific plan for what came next, one which –
admittedly –
was a little bit of revenge, just as it was a gift. He had made me lose myself entirely, while giving me the greatest pleasure I�d ever felt. I wanted to do the same to him: make him feel as though he were under my power, even as he was pleasured by me.

And, later, we would both experience an even greater moment, together. As one. I made a vow of it.

I broke the kiss to hover over him, giving him a wicked smile.

�Just you wait,� I murmured. �I have a few more surprises for you.�

I could see the ideas running through his head. I wondered if anything in those thoughts matched what I was about to do to him.

Then he smirked and said, �Then get to it, woman.�

A grin split my face. He was going to regret those words. I leaned in as if to kiss him, my breasts pressing against his hard chest, but skirted the move to nip at his ear. �As you wish,� I whispered.

His hands seized my hips as he groaned. �What am I going to do with you. . ?� he wondered as I drew back.

�Nothing,� I answered. �You�re going to lay there and let me do what I like with you.� I winked.

His eyes darkened. I ducked my head. I started with his neck. Slow torture, as he�d done with me. I would take my time, feel each and every muscle available to me, lick up every bead of sweat on him, seek out every sensitive spot and make him euphoric that they existed. If it took the next hour, so be it. If it took all night, so be it.

If it took the rest of my life, so be it.

I straddled him as I moved, my hands feeling the contours of his chest, down to his ribs. My mouth skirted along his neck, up to his ear, then along his jaw to the other side. He tilted his head back with a grunt of pleasure. His hands hadn�t released me yet, but eventually they would have to. It was the only way I could reach his lower half, and that half was the coalescence of my plan.

I licked there, just behind his ear. He gave a jerk –
or maybe a flinch. Then I nipped my way down the side of his neck (his muscles were tensed already), stopping at the juncture of his shoulder to suck on the flesh there. I bit down once –
not hard, just enough for him to feel it –
and licked once more before moving on. Or, more accurately, before moving down.

One hand flitted up, fingers tracing one nipple while my lips slowly descended to the other. He groaned; his hands flexed, tightening almost painfully. I considered it a good response and continued on.

My tongue pressed firmly against the coin-sized dark flesh of his chest, and the sound he graced me with sounded strangled. He bucked underneath me once.

The motion brought our sexes together for one split second. Suddenly the aching in my core was all I could think about –
the ache, and the knowledge of how to sate it. How I hungered to bring the night to fruition here and now, right this instant. . !

But he had been patient, and anticipation had made my release so great. . . I could do the same for him, torturous thought it might be. I had already sworn to do so. I could, I would, I will. I promised it again. Patience from me, so I could give him pleasure. It was difficult to focus, more so to control the way my hips wanted to ease back, but I did it.

I wasn�t done yet.

I realized my eyes were closed, opening them now. Just before my eyes were a few scant drops of sweat across his chest. My tongue lapped them up eagerly, the taste going straight to my head like a potent wine. And judging by his surprised grunt, I wasn�t the only one affected.

I smiled at him, catching his gaze when I glanced up. He stared. Expectance was displayed there as though written out. Now I understood where the phrase I can read you like a book came from.

No more time for playing or slow going. My need was already great, and now I could see that his was just as powerful, just as demanding. I crawled further down his body, breaking his grip on me. His hands went straight to my shoulders, then to my hair. I mimicked his moves on my body, trailing my tongue down the defined muscles of his stomach, tracing it around his navel once. The thin trail of his lower hair that started here was possibly the sexiest thing I�d ever encountered.

My hands went on ahead to seek out the lines of muscle on his thighs, going lower to his knees and back up. I kissed along his hip bone (he half-groaned, half-whimpered in disappointment) and then licked the crease of his thigh. He wasn�t disappointed for long.

But he was still nervous. I could feel it in every move he made, and specifically in the moves he didn�t make. I could feel the tension in his hands, the way they shook; he wanted to angle my head a certain way. Yet he wouldn�t. Not while he was so insecure. And the muscles in his legs and stomach kept jumping under my ministrations; he was holding himself in place with all his strength.

Well, soon he would be using all that strength on me. I shivered in delight at the thought. Soon. . .

Eagerness made me twist my head around, for the first time really looking at his velvet-skinned length. It did not disappoint. For all his worries and insecurities, I had almost expected his lack of confidence to come from a lack of size. Maybe he thought he was. . .but that extremity beat every other corresponding one I�d seen.

This could mean every other one I�d seen had been smaller than average, but it no longer mattered. I would never see or touch or take another one inside me.

Guilt washed through me at what I was unable to give to him: virginity. I was taking his this night; I wished I could give mine in return.

My left hand curled around the base as my eyes slid back up to him. He had propped himself up on one elbow, only one hand in my hair now. There was fear one his face, just as clearly as there was desire in his eyes. He was breathing hard, almost hyperventilating.

How odd. After everything that�d already happened, he was worried that I would turn back now, because I was on level with his member? I would have to reassure him, then. . .

I turned my face from his, leaning closer to lick at the hard muscle in my hand, base to tip. He grunted, and under the hand still on his thigh, I felt the muscles constrict further. Holding himself back again. Well, fine. I could let him fight his own reactions for now. Soon, so soon, I would make him go insane with need. And then he wouldn�t have enough strength in his whole being to hold back anymore.

And then I just might need several days� recovery time, I thought. I wouldn�t doubt it, with how strong those arms and legs of his were.

I opened my mouth and descended it, licking roughly against the skin of him. It took a few passes to make the skin moist enough (he groaned at every circuit), and then I was swallowing as much of him as I could fit into my mouth. My hand was abandoned to free up more space, resting on the bed beside his hip to steady myself.

The hand in my hair twitched as he fought with it, constricting once so hard that it yanked painfully on my scalp. I ignored the pain; this was just another sign that he was losing control. And that was exactly what I wanted.

That hand slid down to the back of my neck just in time for me to notice a very particular kind of throbbing: a kind of throbbing I had noticed before in my experience with men. There wasn�t enough warning for me to lift my head before my mouth was flooded with his seed, shooting straight to the back of my throat. I half-gagged reflexively, then swallowed. Some of it was lost, some going down my throat.

I heard him strangle on a cry, then begin panting. I took it to mean he wasn�t done yet and gripped his length, stroking it. I was halfway fascinated with watching the white flow, the other half of me watching his expression. The look of relief and pleasure on his face was breathtaking. I wondered if I had looked half that stunning during my own release.

I also noticed that it hadn�t taken much work from me, but then, how long had he spent on me already, aroused? I could only wonder; my world still hadn�t started spinning again yet. He�d probably been painfully hard for the last half hour. That kind of determination deserved a good release, in my book.

He fell back on the back –
more collapsed, really –
his hand sliding off me as he went. A part of me knew, as I ceased my motions on him, that he wasn�t spent just yet. I knew him better than that; he had a lot of stamina, and rarely used very much of it. I knew this partly because he tended to practice for hours after everyone else had gone to sleep in an attempt to exhaust himself.

But that part of me couldn�t hold its own against the rest of me: I was afraid that I wouldn�t get my earth-shattering lovemaking with him this night. And if it wasn�t tonight, then when would it happen? Tomorrow? The next day? Our future held far too much uncertainty. If I didn�t seize the opportunity before me now, I might never get it.

So I crawled up him, kissing this spot and that as I went. He gave weak moans with each one. I guessed he was very lethargic, but as I reached his jaw with my butterfly kisses, he looked at me. There was enough desire in his eyes to ease my fears. No, the night wasn�t over yet. He was only as spent as I had been minutes ago, and judging by that look, he wanted me far more than I wanted him.

Which said a lot, really, given I had never wanted anything –
let alone anyone –
so much in my life. I wanted him more than I wanted to kill Rendon Howe, more than I wanted to exact blood rights and kill the man who murdered my parents and burned my home.

I wanted Alistair more than anyone had ever wanted anything, save one. . . Because I could see that Alistair wanted me even more.

A strange tingling feeling began low in my belly. I felt powerful and beautiful, to be desired so strongly. I tried to match our expressions, to make my gaze as intense as his. I wanted him, and I wanted him to know that. I wanted there to be no question in it. I wanted him to never doubt how I felt or fear I would change. I wanted him to have complete confidence in his hold on me. And I wanted him to act on it.

�I can�t wait anymore,� I whimpered, leaning down to kiss him.

For all his lethargy a moment ago, his reaction was strong. He seized me, arms constricting around my waist, and kissed back with a passion that knocked my feet out from under me, flipping my world upside-down. He hadn�t shown this much intensity before! Not in the first kiss we shared, in which I could feel the demands behind his control. Not earlier tonight, when I�d made him go wild by sucking on his lip. Not just moments ago, when I had his length secured between my lips.

Everything seemed to explode. The need between us turned violent, and even as he flipped us over –
almost throwing me into the bed –
I could feel a diamond-hard chain wrapping around us, tying us to each other. Nothing would ever separate us again, for any reason. I had already spent close to a year with this man at my side, but even that was no longer enough.

I wanted to spend every night from this day forward in his arms. It didn�t matter if we were making love or relaxing or sleeping. I wanted to spend every day next to him, as close as possible, sharing our air and gracing him with smiles at every opportunity.

All this was decided in an instant –
the same instant his hand curved over my breast, slid down my stomach, outlined my hip and dove between my legs. His grip was not gentle, but it was thrilling for all that it was. His fingers pressed into me, tracing, searching until a finger found my opening and slid inside. My body offered no resistance.

I gasped into his mouth, arching off the bed. His tongue took advantage of this, coaxing and teasing my own until they were battling. It was a brief, brief moment of control.

His hands moved to my hips, then thighs. I knew what he was doing, but he needn�t have checked; I was already prepared, my thighs wide apart. He didn�t stop kissing me, but he hesitated once or twice –
distracted –
as he guided his length to my flower. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling; my hands gripped the sides of his neck. In my head, I was repeating that same word again: more.

And then he was sliding inside and I shuddered hard, a whimper escaping my throat. For one eternal second, I forgot how to breathe, lost in a proverbial sea of bliss. So this is the epitome of sex, sharing it with someone you love so much even the Maker would be green with envy.

It was beyond perfection. His body fit mine just so, his hips cradled just the right way between my thighs, our lips glued together as our tongues fought, his arms holding me so tightly against him that my body protested. That was all it could do: protest. I could feel no pain, just endless pleasure at being so close. With us like this, with him inside me, I had never felt so whole before.

It was a strange thing, that I had to keep amending myself. He didn�t just own me anymore. This proved it. I was made just for him, shaped to be exactly the woman he would want and need. The Maker put me here to be his and his alone, and I had to agree.

Time restarted.

Suddenly he was moving furiously against me, so fast and hard that I couldn�t follow the motions. We gasped for air every time our lips parted, but we couldn�t stop meeting again and again, always desperate for more contact. I was forced to grip him tighter, to hold on for dear life. Everything he did until now had thrown me into a sea of pleasure where I was slowly drowning. . . This was different.

I wasn�t drowning in a sea. The waves were crashing over me, dragging me down. And I wasn�t fighting it either; I was waiting for that moment when air would reach me again, but in no way was I trying to get it. The entire bed squeaked and groaned with the strength he was exerting, causing little delicious shivers to go through me as I realized how much of that strength was being delivered directly to me.

And I had never been so proud of myself, not only for being able to take it, but for making him use all that strength in the first place. I had made him go wild, made him lose all control. And we were both going to be exhausted by the end of it.

But, of course, it wouldn�t be that simple. Besides gasping for air at every parting, my lungs ached while we kissed, because –
once again –
I was holding my breath. I tried to make a concentrated effort to remember to breathe, even knowing it was pointless. What else was there to focus on, now?

Just Alistair, and the thrust of his hips, and the incredible, irresistible, mind-numbing pleasure at what he was doing to me. Everything about this moment was so intense that I couldn�t even react. I wanted to move with him, rise to meet every buck of his hips, but by the time the thoughts reached fruition I was already swept away again. Lost under the crashing waves. . .

My senses were more aware than my mind was. I could hear myself crying out every time I had a lungful of air to spare, could hear his answering groans (was he still fighting with himself? Was that possible?) and the wet, erotic slaps as our skin met again and again.

I could smell the heady scent in the air that could only be described as the smell of sex, spiced with the smell of sweat from us both. I could still taste him on my tongue, as well as myself when our tongues met.

When I forced my eyes open to look, the sight I was greeted with rendered me breathless for an entirely different reason. The hunger in his eyes, as he watched me, was even more intense than the look in his eyes before. Hunger and need and pleasure and determination and, most of all, love.

I could also see him disappearing inside of me when I glanced down between us, and that, too, was powerful. It was the single most erotic thing I�d ever seen, knocking everything else I�d ever considered erotic out of my memory. I only had enough room in my head for one thing to think of with that much erotic intensity.

And then the feeling, the very physical sensation of loving him –
of him loving me. Nothing else could compete with it, nothing else strong enough to even compare. Each thrust, each time his skin collided with mine, was another shock to the very center of my being. It was like being struck by lightning, over and over again. His arms jerked around me in time with his motions, as though he needed me even closer at the apex of every meeting.

I had to abandon my vocabulary completely when it came to describing the feel of him inside me. I could�ve spent the rest of my life trying, only to conclude that it was perfection and that I felt whole and that the rest of the world would never truly understand the meaning of ecstasy, because I was the only person who�d ever truly felt it. The only exception to that rule might be Alistair himself.

I was quite sure we would have debates about it in the future.

More, more, give me more –
oh please, more –

There was that mental chant again. As I focused a little more on thinking, I realized how desperate the words had become. I turned my face away to let myself really breathe now, hearing myself gasp every inhale and cry out almost every exhale. At the lack of my mouth, he started kissing my neck and jaw. I wasn�t in control of my body, but my instincts were. My hips were lifting of their own accord, my legs constricting around him. Each motion was in perfect harmony with him.

I was close now, close to that shattering I had predicted earlier. I wondered –
in the brief instant between thrusts, when I had enough thought processes to think –
if there would be anything left of me after the oncoming explosion. I didn�t think so; if it was going to be as powerful as I thought it would (and the track record suggested it would be a thousand times more than) then, without a doubt, I wouldn�t survive.

I would have to remember to tease him later, to make a joke about how this level of intensity would kill each lover he had after that first time.

If I survived.

It wasn�t until I heard my moan take the shape of his name that I realized I was standing on the floor of the ocean. I was as deep in the crashing waves as I could be, and despite being so far under, the waves had lost no power. If anything, it was more riotous down here, harder to discern which way was up. The things he does to me. . .

Despite all my preparation, the shattering came without warning. One instant I was yelling his name, and the next my fingers had clawed into him, my jaw clenched on a groan, and my back arched. My muscles all tensed into steel, and the indescribable ecstasy that went through me was almost painful. Almost, because nothing could hurt me now. No amount of pain could break through the waves coating me.

I felt my inner walls convulse around him, and for one disconcerting second, I wondered if they would ever release. When they did, I gasped. He wasn�t stopping. He groaned into my neck, one arm releasing me and vanishing from my senses, but I couldn�t spare any thought to where it had gone. For all I knew, he no longer had that arm.

My reactions would have surprised me, if I�d had enough mental capacity to be surprised anymore. For a second I went completely limp, and then another wave hit me and I cried out, grabbing him again. As I was pushed around by my own senses and emotions, I heard him give a strangled cry into the pillow. I also heard a faint tearing sound past the rushing in my ears, but I wasn�t able to focus on it.

And, finally, the torrent died down. With effort (and there wasn�t much of it to be had) I reached the surface of the ocean again. It was very difficult, learning how to breathe again. My heart felt as though it should have cracked my ribs, maybe even broken through them. My lungs were burning, though I couldn�t quire register the burning as a pain yet. And, above and beyond everything else, there was a pressure. I was so confused by it that, at first, I didn�t realize it was just Alistair�s limp weight on top of me.

Well, that made it harder to breathe –
but I�d just spent the last who-knows-how-long learning how to hold my breath. This was no big deal.

And then I realize that I was limp as well. My legs had slid off him, as had my arms. His arm was still around me, and we were still connected. At the time, that was all that mattered.

It didn�t even occur to me that this meant two things: first, he had spilled his seed inside me; second, that I had been unaware of when exactly that had happened. I could guess and speculate, but I didn�t know.

Another groan signaled that he was fighting with himself again. He pushed himself up, met my gaze, and then more or less fell onto his side. The feel of him sliding out of me was a little unpleasant; I�d much rather have kept that part of him right where it was.

As my thoughts came back to me, more and more revelations were revealed. Though he was on his side next to me, though he had pulled himself out of me, his arm remained where it was. This also meant his other, previously-missing arm was across my ribs. Though a moment of rejection had burned me when he�d lifted himself off me, I now understood that he was simply removing his weight from me. I was grateful for the chance to relieve my lungs again.

My body felt like water again, so it was with godly effort that I turned my head to see him (that effort made me admire how much strength he must have expended to move himself so far).

He was watching me, too. His eyes were half-lidded and a little glazed, but fully aware. He smirked weakly –
he was probably going for a full grin and couldn�t quite pull it off.

�Impressive,� I murmured, the extent of volume I could force out of my throat.

He chuckled once –
the extent of how hard he could laugh, I�m sure. �For a first time,� he agreed.

My entire body, from face to neck to chest to arms to legs and everything in between, was so warm that I felt anything more would light me on fire. That�s why it shocked me so much to feel my face grow hotter at his words. But this was a mild shock in comparison to how I felt when waves of desire hit me.

I was certain that I was on Death�s Door a moment ago, when I�d shattered. He�d pushed me so far –
and he�d just as good as promised that it was just the beginning! I hoped I was stronger than I realized. If he was going to become an even better lover, I was going to need more endurance, and a lot more resilience. Even so, my entire body had reacted at his words, wanting what he promised even as I came to the conclusion that it would kill me!

As it was, I could feel aches beginning to come alive. Not just my lungs, but my lower abdomen (which was still giving tiny pleasured tingles), my thighs and my back. Such small aches, so soon after lovemaking. . . I could only imagine what I was going to be feeling in the morning.

The morning. . .which could only be a few hours away now.

How ironic that I�d thought to myself that I wouldn�t sleep this night because I would only have nightmares, and now, here I was, staying up the whole night because I was loving Alistair.

�Don�t start with the expert moves just yet,� I chuckled, my eyes sliding shut. I was so tired. �I still have to remember how to breathe.�

He groaned. �Don�t tell me I could kill you because of that!�

He walked right into that one. �Oh, of course you could,� I agreed. �But suffocation is one of the perils of making love with you, and not even the biggest one.�

Silence. I wondered if I�d stepped too far and made the effort to open my eyes again. He was still watching me, only now I couldn�t understand his expression –
probably because it was mostly blank. What in the world was he thinking?

His eyes narrowed after a moment, the brows pulling together. Was that fear?

�Could I have really. . .killed you?� he asked, and I could hear the turmoil behind the words.

He was really scared of that. Chagrin washed through me.

I groaned, pushing myself onto my side to hug and kiss him, throwing a leg over him. �Don�t worry about that, okay? I was just kidding.� I kissed him again, but I could feel that he wasn�t very into it.

�Look at me,� I ordered when I noticed he had glanced away. He obeyed, so I continued. �It was just a joke. If it helps your ease of mind, I may need to remember how to breathe, but my body doesn�t.�

�You said it was one peril,� he countered.

Crap. �Yes, I did. But you wouldn�t understand the other.� I also couldn�t bear to put it into words –
too embarrassing. I lowered my eyes to the corded necklace on his collar bone. Absently, my fingers traced along it. I just needed something to do.

�What other?� he pressed.

I shook my head. �You can�t make me say it,� I told him, knowing he wouldn�t let it drop so easily.

I felt him tense. It made me think of a wolf�s hackles raising. �I could,� he disagreed. �And I will, if I have to. Melanie, you told me I could kill you –
in two ways. Don�t you think that�d worry me?�

I suppose it would. But understanding his side didn�t make it any less embarrassing. I didn�t want to say it, and unless –
until –
I grew comfortable enough to, I wouldn�t. End of story.

After a few moments of silence, he convulsed his arms around me. I thought he meant it like a jerk, but it was far too gentle to be one. I wouldn�t mention the stabs of pain that accompanied the motion, given that his arms were exactly following the length of my back they�d been minutes ago.

I shook my head in answer.

It seemed to infuriate him, but he also seemed to beat it back down, sighing. �Fine. But you�re going to tell me someday.�

�Someday,� I agreed. Then I lifted my head, smiling. �I think you need some sleep,� I observed.

Despite the seriousness from before, the worry that had given him energy, his eyes were drooping more than ever. I caught him blink the slowest, longest blink I�d ever seen, having to force his eyes back open.

�I�m not tired,� he wheedled.

I snickered. It was a weak sound. I understood my Alistair, my love and owner. There was always a little bit of humor to be seen, from his point of view. And he�d be damned before he passed up an opportunity to share it with someone.

And, in this case, I was the only one available to share it with. Not to mention I was also the person who was the most receptive to his jokes. I imagined I�d be laughing for the rest of my life.

�Yes, you are,� I argued, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose. The motion stretched a few muscles in my sides and back. I had been inactive and still for a few minutes, and yet my body was turning stiff already. Which, I supposed, made sense in a way. I had just spent the last I-don�t-know-how-long in the most activity of my life. Anything after that would be considered �inactive� any way I looked at it.

He countered my move by catching my lips. Compared to our swathing tongue-kisses earlier, this was no more than a sweet peck.

I cherished it all the same.

I hadn�t realized I had nodded off until movement brought me back to consciousness. Movement, and little tingles of pleasure. My mind stretched out like a cloud, getting my bearings. I was on my back now, and Alistair was halfway across me, his face in my neck. At first I thought he was kissing me, but then I noticed that his lips weren�t touching me.

He was smelling me. A little jerk came alive in my abdomen, and I realized then how very turned on I was by that simple little action. Not to mention I could feel his hand trailing down my ribs, across my hip, around my thigh, curving around one cheek of my rear.

A strangled giggle bubbled up from my throat. I hadn�t been expecting that.

He lifted his head sharply, retrieving his hand in the same motion. He looked contrite –
a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, as it were.

�Nice to see you, too,� I smirked.

He grinned slowly. �Morning,� he greeted.

My brows drew together. �Is it morning?�

�It�s been a few minutes,� he shrugged.

I chuckled. �And you didn�t fall asleep?�

�I�ll never need sleep again, after tonight,� he murmured, lowering his head back to my neck.

I tilted my head back to let him continue. �Mm,� I agreed. �You may not, but I definitely will. Besides, what do you think you�re doing, attacking a woman in her sleep?�

He laughed, hot air cascading across my skin. �Just getting to know a few parts of her I hadn�t had a chance to before. Do you mind?�

That question amused me. He was contradicting himself. He was afraid of my judgment about this, but at the same time, swept on in spite of it. Scared he was pushing his luck, but kept on pushing it.

�Only if you stop,� I breathed. It was so pleasant, the things he did to me. I would never ask him to stop. I was certain of it. I felt his hand travel down my leg, curling around my knee. Then he hiked it up, and I moved with him, draping my leg over his hip.

He started nipping at my neck then, up and down, reaching my ear and jaw and shoulder. Instinctively, I twisted my head to the side, giving him more ground to cover. I sighed a moan.

�You haven�t had enough yet?� I wondered, trying to ignore the breathlessness of my voice.

He chuckled again, rubbing his hand along my thigh. �I daresay I�ll always be wanting more of you. But don�t worry, I wasn�t planning on forcing you to do anything.�

�Just because you didn�t plan on it doesn�t mean it won�t happen,� I countered. A part of me smiled at his words. If you looked at them a certain way. . . Well, technically, I didn�t have to do anything to make love with him. He wouldn�t have to force me to do anything in an endeavor to make love.

He froze where he was, and I could tell his breath caught. I froze in response; how had he taken my words? I turned them over again in my head and realized that I could�ve made it out to say that he had in him to rape me, should he want to. And that was far, far from what he wanted.

�I didn�t mean it like that,� I said quickly. His hands released me to clench into fists. He was biting back something? Like a comment? I sighed. �Do you always have to be so chivalrous all the time?� I complained.

I surprised him. He lifted his head to stare at me in confusion. �Isn�t that a good thing, being chivalrous?�

�Well, yes,� I allowed. Then I bit my lip, holding back a laugh at where my thoughts were leading. I pretended to have my hands shackled together, lifting them above my head, giving him a sultry look. �But you don�t always have to be the good guy. Sometimes it�s fun to be the bad one.� I winked.

He caught his breath again as my words hit home. His eyes trailed up my arms to my hands, and then his face pinched. Uh-oh.

He reached up to take my hands, bringing them back down. �No,� he disagreed. �I couldn�t even pretend to force you. It�s too painful.�

�That wasn�t what I meant,� I half-lied. In truth, the thoughts hadn�t come to fruition in just that way. But surely there were other ways? �I can�t be a bad girl with you?� I checked, watching as he played with my fingers.

This time he chuckled, smirking. �I think such a game would work out best if you were bad alone. I don�t think I could bear being cruel to you.�

�You wouldn�t have to be cruel to me,� I suggested. �You could be cruel to invisible people. Or Darkspawn.�

He laughed again. �I won�t be cruel to invisible people, either. It�s racist.�

I burst out laughing. I hadn�t seen that one coming. I meant that he could play along with people who didn�t exist and never had, but he�d twisted my words around. I could see he understood, though. That was good. Then we wouldn�t have to argue anymore.

�Fine, fine,� I sighed. �You�re the boss.�

His brows shot up. �I�m the boss? But you make all the decisions.� He narrowed his eyes. �Or are you handing over control? I think I could do a lot of good with that power.�

�Ha, ha-ha, ha,� I returned dryly. �I wouldn�t trust you to lead us to lunch.�

He chuckled. �Yes, I know. You�ve said that before.�

�I thought it was worth repeating.�

I wasn�t sure what happened then. The atmosphere thickened, suddenly weighing me down. It was my only warning as, a second later, he descended to kiss me. I was half expecting another good-night peck, but instead, his lips were hungry and demanding. I should have seen it coming, really; a few moments ago he�d been petting and nipping me.

When the kiss moved to my throat, I couldn�t help one more tease.

�Maker�s breath, I�ve unleashed a monster!�

�Yes, and now you�re going to pay for it,� he agreed.

He wasn�t as patient this time around, which was fine with me. I was still tired and certain parts of me were aching from before. Even so, nothing was going to stop me now. I felt like a randy youth, just entering that stage of development where you noticed the other gender –
and couldn�t stop wanting them. Personally, I�d woken up more than once at that age, my hands on myself, throbbing in ways I hadn�t understood.

I took it to mean I had a lot of passion to give and focused it on the man above me. If he wanted passion, well. . .he wasn�t going to be left disappointed.

It was a long while later that I found myself on my stomach, laying beside him, just staring. He�d finally fallen asleep, and I couldn�t help my grin at the exhausted look on his face. Lips pouted, eyelids glossy, fingers twitching as he dreamed -- he was a sight to see.

And he was mine.

I burned from the inside out every time I thought of that. This god in human form -- Alistair Theirin -- was mine. Every part of me belonged to him, and in spite of it, he was mine. I knew this because of just how many times he murmured �I love you� before he fell asleep.

But the number of those �I love yous� wasn�t anywhere near the amount of time he�d said my name. And, I noticed, he left out my last name every time. I wondered if this was an unconscious move or not. In his head, he might have already begun stamping his name to mine. It was a delicious thought.

Melanie Theirin. I shivered.

I was glad he�d fallen asleep so soon, too. I had been straddling him this second time, riding him. Even so, his hands had been iron bars on me. Hips, thighs, ribs; once he grabbed my wrists and yanked me down to kiss me. Maker forbid he sit up to kiss me -- I was his to do with as he pleased, after all. If he wanted my kiss, it was in his rights to maneuver me any way he liked to get it.

I kept it to myself later (when he apologized for being so rough about it) that the act had thrilled me. Every act he made that bent me to his will was an act of demand. I loved it. It was instinctive in both of us, I figured; the way he moved me, made me bend and acquiesce to whatever he liked, and the way I craved him when he did so.

But I was glad he�d fallen asleep before he could notice the bruises. No Darkspawn had caused the bands of purple blotches beginning to exist on me. No animal attack made my abdomen tremble with every move I made, little aches that reminded me of his strength. And nothing in the world could make my legs shake, giving tiny quivers even now, so long after the moment was over.

I wondered if I�d be able to walk tomorrow. Probably not. Either my muscles would protest too much, or I�d still be unable to make my legs stop trembling.

I shivered again. Maker, I�d lived my entire life as a fighter, strong and nimble and full of vigor, and somehow, none of this was enough. Alistair was more man than I could take! I knew, without a doubt, that if he hadn�t gone to sleep so fast, I�d be passed out by now.

There should never have been a second lovemaking after how world-rocking the first was, in all logics. He should have been twice as exhausted as I�d been. Hell, I don�t know how his manhood had managed to stand three times. I thought all men were expended after two, if that much.

Clearly I�d been wrong. My eyes slid to the sheets thrown over his waist, picking out one very particular lump. I felt my fingers twitch. I wanted to touch it now -- not to elicit another round, but rather to see if I could make it hard again. Surely, if two was not his limit, three would be? Perhaps it would be impossible for it to come alive a fourth time.

I didn�t want to chance it. What if he woke up, hungry again? I would never deny him, but it wouldn�t lead anywhere good afterwards. Sure, it would be all kinds of amazing and fulfilling, to love him again. But then I�d be aching worse in the aftermath and he�d feel horrible.

Instead, I put my fingers to work, feeling the aching parts of me a little more carefully. I judged the pains, estimating how bad they would be, how long it would take for them to fade -- and whether or not I could hide them from the demigod beside me.

I grinned into the pillow at my own inner workings. I should use these pet names for him verbally. �Demigod� was the best one so far: it said so much in one word. A part of me ached to say it aloud, but I knew I wouldn�t. I was a wanton vixen in some ways, it was true. Especially when it came to Alistair. But that didn�t mean I couldn�t be embarrassed.

And I was. So much. The corny things in my head would never be voiced, regardless of whether or not I�d promised to say them.

My head had actually continued exist the second time, too. And I had made a lot of discoveries about him. When I lifted his right hand to nibble on his fingers, I found that the calluses on his palm were shaped to the pommel of a sword. When I ran my fingers up his ribs, I found a scar -- a wound that I, myself, had bound almost six months ago.

I knew he�d made a lot of the same discoveries. His fingers had found four tiny, round scars on me chest. Although we were making love at that exact moment, I saw his eyes turn forlorn and knew what he was thinking of. The battle at Ostagar. The tower we�d both nearly died in. My wounds had been worse.

Seeing his eyes focus on something far away -- something that hurt him to recall -- had forced me to grab his attention again, grinding harder on him. I knew I had his focus again when he groaned and seized my hips, leading me as I rode him. I made an effort to remember to do this again in the future, whenever I needed to.

I was solemn now, watching him. Don�t ever be sad again, I thought. His eyelids fluttered and his brows twitched. I�m here, Alistair. That�s all that matters. I�m here and I love you.

He mumbled something in his sleep, too slurred to form a real word. It made me smile, thinking that he might have heard my thoughts and was agreeing with them.

But I was scared. More scared than I�d ever been before. I loved him so much -- what would I do without him? I could only answer that question in part: I wouldn�t survive. That I knew. I couldn�t say if I would fall into depression or go insane or become the coldest woman alive. But I knew I wouldn�t survive.

After all, he was keeping me alive.

And that wasn�t even the entirety of my fears. I knew I wouldn�t survive without him, and I knew how strongly we were bound to one another. What would happen to him, without me?

It hurt to consider, worse than it hurt to think of my life without him. I was afraid to think on it, but the visions came anyway. Would he be the depressed one? Would he go insane? Would he die? Or would he move on, find some other object of affection? Would he get over me? Would he find a new lover who could really, truly take all he had to give?

Fear and pain. Was I replaceable? He wasn�t. But maybe I was less than he was. He was a demigod, in so many ways. In comparison, was I simply human? Fear and pain and insecurity. . .

I was his and he was mine and here I was, fretting over the fact that he may get over me someday. I pushed the thoughts from my mind. There were other things to worry about.

The Landsmeet was soon. I was determined to see Alistair become king. I burned to see Howe and Loghain pay for their treachery. The Blight was still at our doorsteps. And it wouldn�t be long before we faced the Archdemon.

Coldness seeped into my bones. Worse than the fear was the dread. The uncertainty. I didn�t know if any of us were going to survive the next twenty-four hours, let alone the next week or month or however long the Blight would last before we pushed it back, destroyed it, conquered it.

And we would. I set my jaw as I thought the words. We would beat this Blight into oblivion. The Archdemon would be slain and we would prevail. . .

But how many would we lose in doing so? I�d said so to Wynne before: in wars, there are losses on all sides. No amount of well-wishing could wash that truth away. Someone would be lost. Someone would die. Perhaps more than one --

Well, I would find a way, somehow, to prevent that. I liked my party. I considered them all my dearest friends, even those who preferred to keep aloof. Sten, Oghren, Morrigan, Zevran; they were as close to me, as precious, as family. Wynne and Leliana and Deni, my Mabari, were even closer. . .

. . .And. . .

My eyes slid to the man beside me. It was difficult to think his name now, lumped together with my fears for the future. I forced it out; I had to face reality. He could be lost, too. There was a chance that, no matter how hard I fought, he would. . .Alistair. . .would die. . .

Tears filled my eyes and I sniffed, holding them back. It wouldn�t do to cry now; it might wake him up. And if he awoke to find me in tears, he would panic. He�d done so before -- I had been caught by him more than once, crying over my past. Holding a piece of cloth with the Cousland crest on it, usually.

This was why I never held it against him when he pined over Duncan. After all, Duncan, to him, was somewhere between Fergus and my father, to me. Savior and father and brother in one. Alistair had every right to mourn the older man. I mourned him too, but I knew him so very little, there were never any tears.

. . .Not from me, anyway.

Brighter subject, I ordered myself. Light was beginning to appear between the waves of the drapery. You spent all night watching him, dead tired but not sleeping. You don�t need to worry. Lighten up. You�re in love with the single greatest man who ever existed, and he loves you, too. What do you have to be unhappy for?

I smiled, knowing the answer to that. Much of my life has been lost, but I�d gained so much more in trade. The jagged scar in my heart from what I�d lost was gone, healed, made whole. I was healthy and strong and had a real chance to save our world as we knew it. I was in love and loved by many, the sun was shining and birds were twittering. I was lying in bed, happy and sated and, just a little, aching. That, too, was a pleasant feeling I wouldn�t have traded for the world.

Because it meant this perfect man needed me just as I needed him. He was keeping me alive, I reminded myself. Alive and well and whole.

I hoped I meant as much to him.
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