Strings Attached - a There and Back Again side story

Part 18

Eighteen: Leliana

The morning dawned sunny, for the first time in forever. Leliana woke, still wrapped in Nathaniel's arms, finally starting to warm up as warm sunlight shone through the cave's opening. She heard snoring, and realised that the handsome archer must have finally fallen asleep.

She blushed when she remembered the night they'd spent, the kissing...Andraste preserve, had she actually bit him? She rolled her eyes at her own impulsive antics.

She sat up carefully to look down on the nobleman, whose head was tilted back, his mouth partially open. The lines of pain that had been present on his face – emotional pain, not physical; she'd checked with Wynne and Anders both – since they'd first met were gone, faint wrinkles around his eyes the only sign they'd ever existed. She allowed herself to stare at him until she'd had her fill, memorising his thick, dark hair, his full lips, his light stubble – so different from the unkempt, near-beard he'd had when they met – and the small patch of hair under his lip. A 'soul-patch', Sierra called it, and it irritated the dark-haired Earthwoman to no end, but Leliana appreciated how it made his mouth look more...sensuous, somehow. She sat up further to admire his muscular shoulders and biceps, noticeable despite the long-sleeved cotton tunic he wore.

She found herself wishing for Sierra's little device to take a picture of him, relaxed in sleep and so beautiful. She was watching at him, lost in thought, and was startled when he opened one grey eye and favoured her with that little, lopsided smile she'd never seen him give anyone else.

"Staring is rude, you know."

She grinned and fought to suppress her blush. "I wasn't staring."

"Oh?"

"I was admiring. There is a difference." She sniffed primly and was rewarded with the low chuckle that made goosebumps run up her spine.

"Well, far be it for me to interrupt you, my lady." He closed his eyes again. "Carry on."

She giggled, and he opened both eyes, smirking at her triumphantly. He reached up to touch her cheek, his thumb barely grazing her lips. "You have the most beautiful voice in the world."

She shifted, lifting herself up and settling again, now straddling his thighs, her arms around his shoulders, facing him. His hands fell naturally on her waist, his warmth making her skin tingle through the thin cloth of her chemise. She leaned down to kiss him, and he responded fervently, opening his mouth with a groan and teasing her with his tongue until her own challenged his and she lost herself in his kiss.

His hands slid down her hips – almost involuntarily, she thought in the small portion of her mind that wasn't thoroughly addled – and then she gasped when one hand gently gripped her ass, the other sliding further down to tease her bare thigh with his fingers. When he registered the gasp, he pulled away, expression contrite; his hands returned to her waist, and he opened his mouth to speak.

She didn't give him a chance; she kissed him again, almost desperately, and then used her own hands to direct his back to where they'd been – only this time, both were underneath the flimsy cotton of her only clothing.

She could feel his erection against her inner thigh, his hand stroking the smooth pale skin on the opposite side; she wriggled, pressing her pelvis against his, and they both groaned at the contact. He abandoned her lips to kiss his way down her chin to her long, sensitive neck; the hand on her ass relocated, and he weaved his fingers into her hair to tilt her head back further as he kissed and nibbled his way down to her collar bone. Like everything else she'd seen him do, he was methodical and deliberate, making sure he lavished attention on every inch of her skin with his mouth, soothing every bite with a kiss. He stopped short of marking her – she couldn't even decide if she was happy about that, or disappointed – but he had the left side of her neck practically quivering at his touch when he switched, cautiously, to repeat the process on her right.

She continued to squirm in his lap, sending sparks into her core as she ground against him; she was just considering whether she could rid herself of her tunic without interrupting his erotic ministrations, when his fingers stilled on her thigh and he pressed his forehead to her shoulder, panting slightly.

"I apologise, my Lady, for beginning something I cannot currently finish."

Her eyebrows rose. "Cannot?" She couldn't hide the disappointment in her voice – her body was on fire, and she wanted nothing more than to continue from where he'd left off.

He winced, and her heart dropped into her stomach. "Will not," he clarified, and she nearly whimpered in despair. "You're injured – and so am I – and we've both been through something terrifying and life-threatening in the last day. I will not be the kind of cad who takes advantage of someone under those circumstances."

He wasn't wrong, she knew – she'd be devastated if it turned out what had motivated him was gratitude, for example, so she could understand that he might have similar concerns – but that didn't stop the nausea building inside her at the apparent rejection. What if this was it? What if, when they returned to camp, he changed his mind and she never saw him again? How much worse, if she had given herself to him first? Yet somehow, she wanted to anyway – to be with him, just this once, just in case.

He must have read some of that in the expression on her face, because he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her sternum, right between her breasts, making her twitch in surprise. "Besides," he whispered, urging her head down so he could get closer to her ear, "the first time we make love, if you consent to it, it will certainly not be in a dirty, freezing cave if I have anything to say about it." His nose skimmed along the shell of her ear, and she squeaked in response – it was a completely undignified reaction, but an honest one, and she curled her fingers into the fabric of his own tunic in frustration.

"The first time?" She knew he'd hear the irritation, but also the insecurity, in her voice.

He merely chuckled warmly in her ear, and she shivered despite herself.