tagCelebrities & Fan FictionThere and Back Again Ch. 045-046

There and Back Again Ch. 045-046


Chapter Forty-Five: Confessions

"You know, according to all the sisters at the monastery, I should have been struck by lightning by now."

"Not for that performance."

"Meaning that it was so great that the Maker himself has decided to spare me from the usual punishment? Right?" He grinned, but the insecurity was as obvious in real life as it had been in game.

I slid up, draping myself across his chest and leaning down to plant a soft kiss on his swollen lips. "Yes, that's exactly what I meant."

"Does this mean I get to brag, tomorrow?"

"Well, I suppose as long as you don't mind my brother beating you senseless afterwards, sure. Go ahead."

"You are a bad, bad woman."

"I'm not the one wanting to brag about my conquest!"

"True. But I think you're actually hoping Aedan will beat me."

"Humility is good for the soul."

"Since when are you worried about a soul?" We both grinned. "I myself am far more worried about other less ethereal concerns."

"Such as?"

"Whether you'd permit us to do this again, if I promise not to discuss our love life with your brother?"


He nodded, somewhat red-faced.

"Now?" I looked down and gasped, my attention immediately drawn to the enormous, slightly purple erection pointed at me. "But...I thought men were supposed to need some recovery time?"

"Evidently not."

I muttered something about Grey Warden stamina, and he had the grace to look slightly abashed. I giggled and leaned down to kiss him again. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me to him tightly, and I let him shift me to lay directly on top of him. The bulge against my thigh gave me an idea, and I broke the kiss to sit up slightly, straddling his waist. When I leaned forward, my breast dangled just above him, and he pulled me closer to draw the small pebble that was my nipple into his mouth. I gasped, then pulled it back out with a small pop, presenting him with the opposite one for the same treatment. His gaze never left mine, and the vision of Alistair, suckling on my breast while gazing into my eyes was one I knew I'd not soon forget.

Suddenly impatient, I pulled away to lean back. Using my hands on his shoulders for leverage, I shifted until I felt his erection trapped between my sex and his belly, and then sat forward slowly until he slid into place at my opening. Pressing back again caused us both to groan, loudly; I was slightly sore, but the stretch was delicious and I kept up the steady pressure until I felt my ass meet his thighs. I gyrated my hips, enjoying the control I had in that position, and discovered that when I leaned forward, my clit got stimulated by his pubic bone, but when I leaned back, he pressed against a spot that felt really good. Apparently G-spots do exist. Huh.

He reached up to cup my breasts while I alternated between leaning back and forward slightly, and I arched my back, pressing harder into his warm, calloused hands. Shifting my grip from his shoulders to his thighs, behind me, I leaned back and started lifting up and slowly sliding back down. I'd never really felt g-spot stimulation in my very limited experience, and while I missed the pressure on my clit, the sensation was interesting and new enough for me to throw my head back and just enjoy the ride. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to orgasm like that, until suddenly both conflicting needs were filled. My eyes shot open, and I realised that Alistair had released my breasts, and one hand was now bracing itself on my hip, while the other reached between us and teased my clit. His face wore a mask of concentration, I assumed as he tried to keep his own release at bay while he brought me to mine.

It took little time for me to reach my peak, between watching the incredibly sexy man under me try to please me, and the sensations coursing through me from my g-spot and my clit. I felt myself spasm, clenching him deep inside, and he hissed as he tried to maintain his composure. I reached down to still his hands, and instead he reached up to cup my face.

"Maker's breath, watching you like that...I want to see your face, just like that, every day, forever."

I smiled softly, wondering if he realised he'd just offered me a lifetime commitment. I wasn't planning on holding him to it, but it felt nice none-the-less. I leaned into his hand, planting a kiss on his palm, and then leaned forward to kiss his lips. I felt him twitch inside me when I nibbled his lower lip, and suddenly I was upright again as he sat up on the bed. Still buried inside my channel, he wrapped his arms around me and pressed his face into my neck, and I responded in kind. He smelled of sweat, which was somehow sexy instead of gross, and I imagined I smelled, if anything, worse, so I couldn't really complain.

Still sitting so my breasts were pressed against his well-muscled chest, I felt Alistair's hands wander down to my hips; he used his grip to encourage me to move, and once again I rode him. I loved the closeness, with him sitting up -- it was nice to be at eye-level and be able to kiss without contortion. I wasn't going to come again -- I was fairly certain that whatever controlled that function had closed for the night -- and I planned to enjoy making it all about him for once. Along those lines, I concentrated, and for the first time in my life, purposefully tried to flex the muscles I could feel contracting during an orgasm. It took me a couple of tries to get it right, and I could tell I had when he gasped and picked up even more speed. He was now in control, his powerful arms lifting me and slamming me back down onto him, and I watched his face as I contracted my muscles in time. I cupped his cheeks in my hands, and like he had done to me earlier, demanded he look at me.

His face contorted in pleasure, and he looked absolutely gorgeous, hedonistic and, well, like I imagined Adonis would as he fought to maintain eye contact while his hips jerked and he spent inside me. A curl of heat spread from my centre as I watched him, and I'd never felt more satiated in my life. He flopped back, panting and trying to recover, and I went with him, laying on his chest. He finally softened, and we both shuddered as he slipped out of me; I slid to one side of him, still cradled in his arm, and molded my body to his side. I reached down and grabbed a light blanket to cover us, not cold, but imagining I would be once the sweat I could feel coating me began to dry.

"So I have a question."

"I'm not going to say 'hit me', if that's what you're hoping."

I giggled. "I wouldn't. I only abuse my brother. Making up for all the years of tormenting him that I missed while we were growing up."

He snorted, and I could hear the grin. "I'm so glad the two of you found each other."

"Me too. But back to my question." I lifted my head and gave him my best scowl. "I thought you were a virgin, before yesterday."

He raised an eyebrow, expression puzzled. "I was."

"I don't believe you."

"You knew I was before we even met, how can you not believe me?"

"Well...okay so I've mentioned before that where I'm from, information about sex is easily available, for anyone who wants it."


"And I imagine almost everyone spends at least a little bit of time 'educating' themselves. I did. And in everything I ever read, everyone I ever asked about sex, they all agreed about one thing -- the first time with an inexperienced partner is supposed to be terrible for the woman. No control, overly excited, that sort of thing. My limited experience certainly agrees with that. But this was incredible. I know, Grey Warden stamina is part of it, at least in terms of recovery time, but..."

He blushed. "Confession time." I raised one eyebrow. "I, uh, 'educated' myself a bit too."

"You did? How?"

He grimaced. "Zevran."

"You asked Zevran for sex advice?" My voice went all shrill, and I clapped my hand over my mouth to stop it from saying anything else.

"Not exactly. At first, I just...paid attention, when he would talk. And all he talks about is sex, so that was fairly enlightening. Especially late at night, like on watch...I'd wake up from a Darkspawn nightmare and end up listening to him talk to Aedan or whoever. He and Leliana even spent a couple of nights comparing notes. He mentioned all sorts of 'secrets' he learned from living in a whore house, like for example, how the men would..." He made a hand gesture that was understandable in any culture, and I giggled at his scarlet face. "Before. So that they could be better."

"You did that?" I was too tired to be turned on, but the thought of him stroking himself was almost enough for me to overcome that obstacle.

He nodded, refusing to meet my eyes. "In the bath. Earlier."

Now I have a mental image. Damn you Alistair!

"So at first," he continued, "I just eavesdropped, but after a while, I would listen openly, and blush and stammer and act all confused, and you know how he loves to embarrass me, so I could sort of...lead the conversation where I wanted it to go."

My mouth open, I stared at him in shock. "You are...you are devious! I can't believe you faked that innocent act."

He chuckled nervously. "Not entirely, I mean, I was completely embarrassed, but it was...educational."

I shook my head, impressed yet again at the maturity and confidence it took for him to go to Zevran for advice, even if in a round-about fashion. Not to mention the acting skills! Game Alistair would have run away with his hands over his ears, singing loudly to himself.

I fell asleep with my head on his chest, a smile plastered to my face. For the first time in months, I was going to sleep sated instead of frustrated, and the soft susurration of his heartbeat was better than a lullaby.

When I woke, I was a bit disoriented; I was no longer resting on his chest, but instead curled up with Alistair spooned behind me. My head was on his outstretched arm, his other lay loosely on my hip. The room was dark; the candles had gone out. I had no idea what time it was, and I struggled to figure out what woke me. And then Alistair twitched, and I realised he was dreaming. I worried that it might be a darkspawn nightmare, until I heard him softly moan my name. When he twitched again, his arousal, which had worked its way between my thighs to press against my sex from behind, was enough of a clue as to what he was dreaming about. I blushed, embarrassed and aroused in the same breath.

I debated -- what to do? Should I let him enjoy his dream, or wake him and make it come true, whatever it was? I decided that neither was entirely appropriate, but instead chose option C. There was plenty of moisture to be found, between our earlier exertions and my re-awakened desire, so I tilted my hips and awkwardly reached down to gently grasp his manhood and angle it properly. I slowly, carefully wriggled backwards and impaled myself on his length.

With some rest, most of the soreness had gone, but I found myself feeling stiff, like the morning after a new workout at the gym. Fortunately the position didn't require too many contortions, so I was free just to enjoy the stretch. He'd come half-awake during the process, if the hand clenching my hip was any indication, but there didn't appear yet to be coherent thought behind it based on the confused, dream-like muttering in my ear. Undeterred, I purposefully clenched, drawing a gasp and a surprised thrust from behind. Oh, that's better than I even thought it would be. I did it again, combining it this time with a pelvic tilt that slid him just slightly deeper inside me, and he groaned.

Now more awake, his arm, which pillowed my head so comfortably, bent down at a surprising angle and his fingers unerringly found my breast. The other, still gripping my hip, pulled me back as he thrust forward. The position did not allow him much freedom to move, but even the short strokes felt heavenly and I trembled as he began teasing my nipple. We continued like that, and I floated in a haze of pleasure, knowing it wasn't enough to bring me over, but content to draw things out for a while.

After a few minutes, his panting, gasping breaths in my ear became low growls, and I could feel he wanted more. I assumed he would pull out and we would reposition, but to my surprise he just rolled me forward a little, spreading my knees slightly so he could put his own knee down between mine, tilting my hips up, and used his improved leverage in combination with gravity to get the increased speed and depth he wanted. I could do nothing but moan wantonly, especially when his hand left my hip and quested forward to begin tormenting my aroused clit.

Lying there, in the pitch black, with Alistair in me and on me, all around me, I was struck by the strangest feeling. I was sort of embarrassed, but it was a weird combination of rightness, and possession, and connectedness I'd never even imagined before. Despite not being able to see, I knew exactly what he was going to do, and he knew exactly what to do to increase my pleasure without having to ask. I almost couldn't tell where I stopped and he began, and it was intoxicating. But I didn't say any of that; all I could do was moan and writhe and do my best to thrust back towards him and allow the waves of my orgasm to wash over me.

His relentless movement inside me and the pressure on my clit kept my orgasm going until I felt him press into me, hard, and stay there as he groaned out my name; the heat I could feel told me he'd found his release, and his hand finally fell away from my abused clit as I shuddered.

I muttered under my breath as we both sprawled, sated and exhausted. "Hallelujah."


"Tell you tomorrow."


I didn't even really get the chance to come down; exhausted, I fell asleep mid-shudder, with him still inside me, his weight still on my back.

When I next opened my eyes, I could feel by the tension in the body spooned behind me that Alistair was awake. The early morning light was filtering through the shutters, I was guessing it was barely after dawn, and between the blankets and the enormous templar body-warmer, I was gloriously warm for possibly the first time since being in Ferelden. I cleared my throat, voice slightly hoarse and still thick from sleep.

"Good morning."

He hesitated before speaking, and when he did his voice was subdued. "Good morning."

I started to worry that he somehow had morning-after regrets, though I wouldn't have expected that. "Love? What's wrong?"

He sighed and shifted slightly away from me, letting cool air sneak in between us; I was suddenly chilled much more than the dropping temperature would account for.

"What's this?" I felt one finger tap me on the back, and I wrinkled my brow in confusion. Do I have something stuck in my hair? And then it occurred to me what he was tapping on.

"It's a tattoo." I blushed, happy that he wouldn't be able to see it from behind.

"I gathered that. Why, exactly, do you have a tattoo of a dragon and a griffon, and a Chantry symbol of all things? Whose initials are these?"

I sighed. I mostly felt bad for Alistair, that his confidence, while better than it had been in game, wasn't good enough for him to guess.

"I got it after Haven. It...was an emotional time, for me, and I felt like I needed something to mark the occasion somehow. I asked Zevran to do it, and he did."

"That's what you were doing in his tent for hours? Really? I wondered, but after I made such an ass of myself, I didn't want to ask in case you took it the wrong way."

I giggled. "Yeah, that might not have gone over well."

He snorted. "I still have a bruise on my ear to remind me not to piss you off." I giggled again. "That still doesn't explain the tattoo, you know."

"I...it's hard to explain. The dragon, obviously, represents the Archdemon, but also just the...differences, I guess, between Thedas and where I grew up. And the griffon represents what I found here -- yes, Grey Wardens, but also family, and strength. And the Chantry symbol is because...I might not be an Andrastian, but someone, maybe your Maker or maybe someone else, brought me here and let me find you and Aedan, so I guess it's my way of showing gratitude."

He was quiet for a bit, and I could practically hear the wheels turning as he thought about it. "And the initials?" His voice was barely a whisper, but I couldn't decide if it was hopeful or worried.

"I didn't ask for them. I was as surprised as you when I saw them there. Zevran claims they are random swirls and that it was only my wishful thinking that made them look like letters. He thought he was so clever." I sniffed, remembering his smug smile.


"For the love of all that's holy, Alistair! The 'S' is obviously me. The 'A' is you, you idiot! I told you, everyone knew how I felt about you. When I asked about them, Zev offered to change them, to colour over them, but...even though I thought, at the time, that I'd never get to be with you, it was...it was the only way I could keep you with me, somehow. And then I thought you hated me, and it seemed like it was all I'd ever have of you, since I couldn't even have your friendship."

My eyes were moist, and I blinked rapidly, trying to clear them. I am not going to cry, not over this. I was shocked when his arms encircled me from behind, shifting me so I faced him and then crushing me to his chest. He stroked my hair, tilting my chin to look into my eyes. His own eyes were bright with unshed tears as well, and he had to clear his throat a couple of times before he could speak.

"I'm sorry. I really am. I never hated you, Sierra. Was jealous and insecure, sure...I guess I still am, really. It isn't you. It was never you. Sometimes I just can't believe that you are here with me. It seems too unreal. You could have anyone you wanted; you could be Queen, if that's what you wanted -- I know Cailan was considering it. Why would you want to be with me? I'm not complaining, of course, and I'm not trying to excuse my behaviour, I'm just...explaining, I guess. If I were you, I wouldn't be with me. I could never assume that 'A' was for me."

"I know, Alistair. I'm not really frustrated with you. Actually what I'd like to do is kick Eamon's and Isolde's asses for making you so insecure in the first place."

"Eamon took me in, and he didn't have to. I-"

I cut him off. "Eamon took you in exactly because he had to, Alistair. Maric made him. Maric promised your mother to raise you away from court, but he wanted you somewhere he thought you'd be safe. He loved your mother; he begged her to stay, but she could not. He loved you. My guess is he wanted you trained as a knight, to someday quietly settle you as the Bann of something or other. Why he decided that his brother-in-law, the brother of his late wife, who had no relation to you and who would see you as a potential stain on his sister's memory, should be the one to raise you I will never understand. Or maybe I do -- Eamon has a way of making others think he's an honourable guy. Maybe Maric fell for it. He should have sent you to Rainesfere or even Highever, though I expect he worried that if someone discovered who you were they would try to use you against Cailan when the time came...

"Regardless, I can guarantee that he did not want you sleeping in the hayloft, or mucking out the kennels, or being treated as less than a servant. Or going to the Chantry, for that matter. I bet that Eamon took you into the castle and had you cleaned up and looking presentable every time Maric visited, am I right?" He looked thoughtful, but after a short hesitation, slowly nodded. "He couldn't allow Maric to find out how you lived. I can only assume that Eamon sent you off to the Chantry without notifying Maric, and by the time he found out it was too late. He couldn't rescue you without acknowledging you, and he'd promised not to. I more than suspect that Maric asked Duncan to get you out of the Chantry before you took your vows. Of course, he didn't know that the Joining could have killed you."

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