The Truth of Desire Ch. 04

"On the left!" Damon screamed.

Two Inquisition soldiers braced their shields against the approach of a rage demon, nevertheless shrieking as its flames nearly cooked them inside their armor. Damon's teeth bared as waves of frost layered around each other in the palm of his hand, rapidly wrapping over and over until a razor-sharp spike solidified. Then he snapped his hand toward the demon and struck it right in the neck. The rage demon howled and gurgled as it tried to claw out the spike.

The two soldiers recovered in time to finish it off.

Damon kept his eyes sweeping over the battlefield, spotting Cullen's formation amidst a cluster of lesser demons pounding their shield wall with jagged claws. They were holding just fine, preparing to hurl bombs over the barrier to cut off the demons' reinforcements. So he turned his attention elsewhere, to Iron Bull's mercenaries, busy as they were harassing the enemy's flanks.

Corypheus' cultists had baited one of the Inquisition's supply scouts into a narrow mountain pass with heavy deposits of raw veridium. Once they deployed an excavation team to mine out the vein, the ambush was sprung. Half the expedition's guards had been killed before word even got back to camp, and the other half perished as reinforcements arrived.

Which was when the second trap was sprung.

A second wave of cultists and Fade rifts erupted at their back, trapping them inside the pass. Now they were surrounded, fighting on two fronts and holding—for the moment. He'd have more time to reflect after the battle, but as it stood, he chalked their steadfast progress up to the newly forged alliance. The last time Damon had seen Templars and mages working together without grudge or malice was the night the Circle Tower fell. And now...

A pair of mages set about healing troops while a phalanx of Templars held four rage demons at bay. A cluster of mages combined their magic in a devastating networked spell that tore a hunger demon in two. Two templars dueled an abomination and its cultist backup. As dire as the current situation seemed, it reminded him of that night in the best of ways.

"Inquisitor! Ogre!"

The scout who called it out flapped her arms in a panic, immediately drawing his attention to the horned monstrosity charging their right flank. The battle lines of cultists parted like water around rock as the ogre stampeded toward them on all fours, barreling through half a dozen Inquisition soldiers in the process. Damon grit his teeth and sprinted toward it, preparing a spell in his left hand while his right snatched up a pike from one of the fallen. The ground was rough and peppered with rocks, which gave plenty of friction for large feet. But it was also raining, and Damon had strength to spare.

Thus, he yelled and roared, waving the pike nice and high to get the creature's attention. Steam poured from its nostrils as it shifted and barreled full-tilt toward the Inquisitor.

"That's it," he muttered.

Damon waited, standing stock-still and preparing to angle the pike. He glanced down at the ground below—just enough dirt for the weapon's spiked pommel to dig into. Damon grinned and waited for it to get closer.

Just a little...more...

Then he smiled, all teeth, and cast the spell in his offhand. A thick sheet of smooth ice coated the twenty yards between them. The moment the ogre's massive feet touched that sheet, it lost all control of its direction or momentum. Damon stuck the pike in the ground, angling it up and forward, then dove out of the way of the now-panicking ogre as it slid shoulder-first into the long pike-head. The crack of splintering wood filled the air, followed shortly by a bellowing roar. Damon looked up from his prone position to see the ogre madly groping at the pike-head buried in its shoulder. Its clawed fingers only managed to further splinter the broken nub of wood sticking out of its skin.

Damon leapt to his feet and reached for his back, drawing a longsword already notched by today's battle. His palm swept over the blade as he stalked toward the fallen creature, sparks of electricity dancing across the metal. The prone ogre made a feral swipe at him when he got close. Damon snapped his hips back, dashing just out of its reach. It clawed at the ground with one arm, yanking itself toward him while the other took another swing. Damon stood his ground and turned his hips as he swung toward the arm, using a crouching motion to get himself out of the way and add additional power.

The shock of the impact almost dislocated his arm, but the answering roar that vibrated his body made him grin. The ogre's own momentum had driven his sword halfway through its forearm, just as planned. The shock of electricity coursing through its muscles stunned the creature, but that would only last a few seconds. So he intensified the enchantment on the blade, sending more and more lightning into the metal until its edge began to glow red-hot. The ogre shrieked and thrashed, trying to grab his legs with the other arm. But he'd caught its attacking arm near the top of its swing, at an angle the other one couldn't reach.

Damon grit his teeth as he kept pushing, grimacing at the stink of seared flesh. He answered its agonized roar with one of his own, pouring more of his magic into the blade until—

Shing!

The force and heat of the sword cleaved straight through the bone and everything beyond, severing the ogre's arm near the elbow. The blind rage and agony with which it began thrashing made him withdraw to catch his breath. Then he lured it back toward the ice and cackled malevolently as it tripped once again. The moment the ogre's face smashed into the icy ground, Damon leapt for its back and ran toward its head. His still-glowing sword was flipped to an underhanded grip and driven toward its skull like a stake with all his falling weight behind it.

The steel plunged in almost to the hilt, and the ogre fell still.

With the remaining heat on the blade's edge, it slipped free fairly easily. When Damon looked up, he saw the remains of the cultists starting to retreat. Their rearmost ranks fell to a hail of arrows from Cullen's archer line. The mages also gave them a parting volley. Another two dozen perished to fire and lightning. As much as Damon wanted to order a pursuit, he knew the Inquisition needed to lick its wounds and collect its dead. Besides, they could have more traps lying in wait.

Damon's heavy breath was only overshadowed by the increasing din of rain and the moans of the injured and dying. He made his way to the center of the group, to triage and heal what he could while he let Cullen take over their defenses. By the time they were on the move, they needed two whole wagons to carry out the dead.

...

The journey back to the fortress was long, somber, and cold. Damon's armor was completely soaked through when they got off the mountain, and there was still at least another hour of marching to go. By the time they got back home, the soldiers were already complaining of numb appendages. Some of them no doubt had frostbite. Some would fall sick within the day. All were better off than the dead.

Damon stabled his horse, left his sword to be fixed by the smithy, and made his way to the keep and a warm bath. If he spoke more than three words to anyone the whole time, he couldn't remember. His mind's only occupation was the two whole wagons of bloody, mangled corpses. They had defeated the ambush and saved the miners, but at terrible, terrible cost. And perhaps the worst part? It was no one's fault.

The ore vein was there. There was no ambush ready when they'd confirmed it. The scouts had done their job well. The workers had proper security who were excellently vigilant. Their lookout had ridden for reinforcements as soon as the attack came. Every single failsafe and protocol they had for this situation had played out exactly as intended, and it worked. And still the death toll numbered more than two score. A whole fifth of their expeditionary unit, gone.

And Damon still had ogre brains stuck to his hands.

The moment the thought hit, he shuddered and tore off his gauntlets, hurling them carelessly across the room. He heated the tub as hot as he could without boiling it, stripped off his armor and underclothes, and dunked himself into the scalding water. The pain pulled him away from his visceral disgust, so he reinforced it with coarse bristles, vainly trying to scrub away the bloodstains on his skin. The screams of the men and women he'd healed, some missing limbs, others trying to hold their guts in...

Damon's jaw clenched as he scrubbed harder, peeling away layers of skin until it was all raw.

"Damon!"

He flinched at the sound of Cassandra's voice. A moment later, her worried face appeared in the doorway of his washroom. He stared at her, clad as she was in her Seeker's tunic. She paled before his eyes, taking in the state of him. Wait. Was he injured? Had he just not noticed?

Cass blinked and swallowed, slowly approaching him as if he were a wounded animal. "I came as soon as I heard about the attack." Her fingers curled around the edge of the tub as she knelt in front of him. "Are you all right?"

Damon stared off into infinity, unable to answer.

Cassandra's lips pursed. When he remained silent, she sidled off to the side and began to strip as he kept mindlessly scrubbing himself. Moments later, the water sloshed as she entered with him. Damon didn't slow his scrubbing. Her gentle touch made him freeze when she embraced him from behind.

"I have to hurry," he stammered. His voice cracked. "Have to hurry here and get back to Cullen and Leliana. They need—"

"Nothing," she interrupted softly. "I left word with them that you are not to be disturbed unless necessary."

He blinked and looked back at her. "Why?"

She arched an eyebrow. "Because you need rest, and there are others who are perfectly capable of managing in your absence for the time being." She reached for the brush. "Please let me help you."

Damon sighed and slowly relaxed his hand, leaving the brush in her fingers. She reached over to a small jar of bath oil and sprinkled it over the bristles, then gently worked it into his back and arms. Slow circles were drawn into his skin. The water's tint kept growing steadily redder, with much greater ease and less pain than before.

"Work smarter, not harder, love."

Damon sighed again at the light teasing note in her voice. He slowly relaxed into her touch, sinking to his knees and leaning his chin on the edge of the tub.

"They played us like fools," he said after a while.

"You survived and saved the expedition."

He snorted. "Most of it."

"It is enough, my dear."

"Not for the dead."

"War is war. Victory always comes with a price."

The room fell silent save quiet splashes and the scuff of the brush on his skin.

"I did not wait to hear details," she said, "but from what little was said, you held nothing back. Those who survived owe you their lives."

She finished scrubbing his lower back, then kissed his neck and held him. He held her hand across his chest and squeezed it lightly. Damon turned around and melted into her, pressing his face into the nape of her neck as his hands shook.

"It's nerves, my love," she whispered. "Nerves and the comedown after battle. It will pass."

"I know." He tried to suppress the tremble in his voice. "I know. Just...frustrating, that even our best efforts still end with that much loss."

"I understand completely."

Damon sat with her in the water, letting the heat soak into his sore muscles as Cassandra scrubbed his matted hair.

"You are a brilliant commander and a leader among leaders," she cooed. "Today, the enemy's plans were frustrated, and it was your guidance that brought about this victory."

He closed his eyes and nodded into her neck.

She kissed his forehead and cradled him. "Feeling better?"

"...a little."

Cassandra drew back and held his gaze with a twinkle in her eye. "Anything I can do to improve that?"

Damon bit his lip faintly, managing a smile as he took in her nudity for the first time. The hardness of her muscles, the scars littering her body—this was the figure of a battle-tested warrior, and Maker help him if he didn't find that irresistible.

So he grabbed her hips and pulled them flush against his own, pressing their nipples together in the process. Cassandra hissed and bit her lip as she groped his shoulders and back. Damon chuckled softly and growled. He reached down and pulled her legs up around him, sitting her on the edge of the tub as she held on tight. With one hand, he cupped her face, while the other guided his rapidly hardening cock inside her. With a sigh of relief and contentedness, Damon closed his eyes and sank into his lover, steadily rolling his hips until his balls hugged her ass.

He held her, feeling and hearing her pant in his ear as she squeezed her pussy around him. Damon groaned and tightened his arms around her body, slowly rolling his hips and fucking her with shallow thrusts. Cassandra panted and moaned softly, stroking her fingers across his back and peppering his neck and cheek with kisses. He petted her hair and pulled her close, flicking his tongue against her lips until she let him in. Cass's legs tightened around him as he sped up and lengthened his thrusts.

Her hips rocked back against him, fingers tangling in his hair. She moaned into his mouth every time he bottomed out, eyes fluttering when he stuck his tongue halfway down her throat. Damon's breathing was getting heavier by the second. He grabbed her hips and started pounding her properly, with little splashes of water sending ripples out every time their bodies clapped together. Cassandra finally broke away from their lip-lock and panted heavily, face flushed. Damon bit his lip at the heat in her eyes and stood up with her still wrapped around him.

He stepped out of the tub, hot water streaming off them as he ground his cock inside her and strode over to a marble slab around hip height bearing their towels. He laid her back on them, short hair sticking to her face, and pulled her legs up over his shoulders. Then he gripped her hips and bucked inside her. Cassandra moaned at his sudden forcefulness. Damon adjusted himself to the slight curve of his dick pressed his tip against her walls, then bucked once again, thrusting all the way in.

For an instant, she went cross-eyed. Damon grinned.

Moments later, she was clawing at his back and moaning loudly as he steadily pounded her, letting gravity do most of the work. Cassandra's heavy breathing intensified when he grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the slab. His hips sped up, quickly starting to burn as he slammed his cock inside her.

"Fuck!" Cass screamed, weakly attempting to escape his grasp.

She had no control over his pace or depth, couldn't even wrap her legs around him to pull him closer. He'd taken all of her leverage, taken her.

"Breed me, lover," she moaned.

Damon groaned and shut his eyes as he plunged in deep, trying to stay still and not push himself over the edge just yet. Suddenly, she squeezed down on him, then loosened, and repeated it. His eyes opened to see her shit-eating grin as she massaged his cock with her insides, steadily driving him closer.

Damon clenched his eyes shut. "Fuck..."

He was so close to the edge, if he moved at all, he'd explode instantly.

Cassandra chuckled breathlessly. "What's wrong, dear? Too much for you?"

Damon felt a spark in his chest and released her wrists only to twist her nipples hard.

She bit her lip and scrunched her face. Her cheeks flushed.

"Too much?" he asked. "I'll show you too much."

She grinned and gasped as he pulled out and slung her over his shoulder. He grabbed her discarded belt on the way out into the bedroom.

Damon flung her onto the bed, watching as she shifted from her back to crawl toward him on all fours. Cassandra laid her chin on her palms and smiled at him, glancing down at his hardness. Damon just smirked and shook his head, then grabbed her shoulder and threw her onto her back. She giggled and panted heavily as he grabbed her shoulders and flipped her onto her stomach.

"Y'know," he grunted, "I'd tell you to grow out your hair so I have something to grab."

Cassandra whimpered as he snapped her belt around her neck and pulled until she arched her back off the bed.

"But I know you enjoy this far too much."

She grinned as he pulled the belt taut, making her gasp for every half-breath as he slid back inside her. Damon had cooled down somewhat during the move, so he wasted no time. From the start, he slapped his hips against her ass and pounded her hard enough to rock the bed. Every few seconds, he pulled on the belt and choked her, in turn choking his cock with how much she clenched down on him. Damon moaned hard as he used her body to massage his dick, drinking in the way her muscled ass faintly jiggled with every thrust.

He let the belt slacken so he could grab her hips and fuck her harder, finally unleashing Cassandra's whorish moans.

"Take me—ngh!"

He leaned over her and stuck two fingers in her mouth. She suckled them, eyes rolling back in her head when he used his other hand to stroke her clit.

"Fuck," he groaned, grabbing her hips again. "Fuck!" Damon plunged in and felt his pleasure spike sharply. "You—wanna be—bred?"

"Yes, si-ir!" she cried.

His hand snapped around the belt and pulled. One of her hands went to the leather, tugging on it uselessly as he slowly sank all the way in and moaned. She tightened around him like a vise. Damon's body throbbed when his cock tingled fiercely, jumping and twitching without his consent. An instant later, globs of cum spewed all over her insides as her body shook and she furiously rubbed her clit. When she sagged in his grip, he let her slump into the sheets, wheezing and gasping for air.

Cassandra's fingers kept slowly stroking her clit, but she couldn't move otherwise. Damon panted hard and slid down beside her, slipping from her pussy as he cuddled her side. After a good while, she managed to turn her head to face him and smile.

"Better now?" she asked.

He nodded and sighed, wrapping his body around hers and tucking her as close as possible. "Thank you."

She snuggled into him and pet his head. "Of course, my dear." She chuckled. "Being Inquisitor...it's not so stressful now that you actually join me in bed every once in a while, hm?"

Damon chuckled ruefully. "Haa...you're never gonna let that go, are you?"

"No."

"That's fair."

...

They dozed off for a while. The sun had long sunk beyond the horizon by the time Damon awoke, though there was still light tinting the sky from behind the mountains. He smiled at Cassandra and brushed his hand through her short hair. A light tap on the door outside the room drew his attention. He sighed and pulled on a robe, then went to greet his visitor.

Solas greeted him on the other side.

"Hey," Damon said.

"Inquisitor," the elf greeted. He held up a small wooden box. "I've inspected it thoroughly and performed every test I could think of."

Damon's eyebrows shot up. "It's ready?"

He smiled and nodded. "Shall we?"

Minutes later, Damon and Solas were in a secluded undercroft of the castle. The Inquisitor had given the guards outside strict orders not to allow any interference—and to ignore anything they might hear. Damon paced as Solas prepared a ritual circle, spot-checking the elf's work as he went. At the very center of the circle was a large violet diamond—Tyrell's Fade-strider. For the last few weeks, the two mages had been working tirelessly to finish a ritual that would allow them to use it to its maximum potential: to enter the Fade with both mage and mundane and commune on even footing with the spirits on the other side.