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"So if you were raised in the chantry have you never...like...had a first kiss or anything?" Iowen scrunched her brows in confusion as she stared up at her fellow Grey Warden. She was secretly hoping the answer to that was yes. Everything about Alistair was already so adorable, while being extremely handsome, so being a complete, easy-to-tease virgin was the icing on the cake.
Alistair let out an awkward chuckle, ears and cheeks already flushing a light pink at the elf's question. "I-I mean...what do you mean by that?"
He looked especially handsome in the glow of the campfire, the two of them standing just outside his tent to chat. It had become a nightly habit since the two had met. They always had something to say to each other.
Tonight was no different, with Iowen teasing him, while she was barely any less of a virgin compared to him.
“I mean: have you ever kissed a girl?” Iowen’s voice was a sultry purr as she leaned a little closer to him, just barely. She made it a point to let her eyes dip to his lips, lingering for a second before looking back into his eyes.
He was a stuttering mess as he quickly looked anywhere but Iowen’s ethereal periwinkle eyes. Perhaps it was just her natural magi aura, but he swore her eyes were sparkling and drawing him in more than usual. And the way the moonlight hit her skin, the way it peaked through her mage robes…
“Hello? Alistair?” The mage waved her hand in front of his eyes, pulling Alistair’s focus back to the conversation. “Don’t think I didn’t see that staring."
“St-staring? I wasn’t staring!” He all but blurted, coughing and spluttering as he tried to explain himself. “There was…a bug! Yes! A bug, I saw it.”
Her smile was feline as she watched him scramble for an excuse. Always proving how cute he was, it was so easy to get him flustered. He must’ve not had anyone around growing up to do this to him. Or he did and never grew out of it. Iowen couldn’t decide which was more cute. (Hint: it was everything about him, no matter what.)
“I’m sure. Now, my question? By these distractions, I’m assuming…” She trailed off, eyes drifting to his lips again. “You’ve never been kissed, Alistair.”
She watched him gulp, his throat was dry. His cheeks were flaring, practically crimson, as he looked away nervously once more. Iowen couldn’t help but giggle, taking his hand in hers before he tried hiding them behind his back. He tends to do that when he’s nervous, Iowen noted.
Alistair’s hands were large and calloused, a warrior’s hand, compared to Iowen’s dainty elven hands, soft from her time in the Circle. She traced the lines of his palm gently, trying to relax him more while his face was burning hotter than the fire next to them.
“Ah, no,” he finally admitted, head still turned away in embarrassment. “Never really been kissed. Unless you count when I was really little, but even then…still no.”
Alistair finally managed to turn his head back to face her, eyes drifting to his hand in hers. Gods, his were massive. He practically looked like a monster in comparison to her. Her manicured nail tickled against the rough skin of his palm, a shiver rolling down his spine. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was putty in her hands.
“Poor Alistair,” she cooed, almost degradingly (Alistair won’t admit to the rush that gave him), lips pouted. Iowen tugged his hand gently to lead him into the tent, “I don’t think the others wish to hear this conversation much longer.”
An excuse, but true.
She could practically hear the blood pumping his ever beating heart, loud and practically beating out of his chest. He’d never been so close to a girl, especially not one he could already tell he was growing attached to. In his tent? His private domain in this camp? What’s next? Sex?
“My…my tent?”
“Well, yes,” Iowen quirked her eyebrow, tilting her head innocently. “Would you rather I taught you how to kiss in front of Zevran?”
He froze, stiff as a board as his eyes found hers. “Pardon?”
She rolled her eyes with a smile, tugging him down to sit on the floor with her. They were close, almost awkwardly squished inside the canvas tent. He let his hands fall onto her thighs, her own hands now on top of his. The tent flap allowed a sliver of light to pour in, perfectly highlighting both of them.
“What? You wish me to stop?”
“Ah, no! That’s, uh, not…not what I meant,” Alistair blurted before lowering his voice, in shame or embarrassment, Iowen couldn’t tell. “I just…you’re very bold, for a woman.”
“I do hope you mean that as a compliment, Alistair,” she pouted playfully, her plush bottom lip glistening with rouge. Her hands slid to his thighs, feeling the muscle tense at her touch. “I figured you may take a bit too long for my liking, you should’ve kissed me about five minutes ago when I first asked about kissing.”
“I-I should’ve?”
“Mhm,” she hummed, hands slowly massaging his muscles, trying to relax him. “I figured I gave you obvious hints, and you kept staring at my chest, but here we are.”
“I didn’t mean- I wasn’t staring…” he trailed off, finally meeting Iowen’s eyes. The expression on her face told him it wasn’t worth it to argue, she already knew he was, in fact, staring. “Alright, I glanced a bit. Can you blame a man? I was raised by Sisters.”
Iowen chuckled, nodding as she recalled the tidbits of his life. She felt the muscle of his thighs begin to relax from her ministrations, smiling softly. His eyes looked more hazel than dark brown in the firelight, Iowen noted, and his hair looked a shade lighter as well. Princely handsome, if she said so herself.
“And I was surrounded by templars,” she poked a finger in his chest teasingly, before letting her palm rest against it. “And mages. Do you see me ogling you like a piece of meat?”
“I wouldn’t mind,” his usual smirk was back, hands now trailing to her hips, feeling her soft flesh under his fingertips. His pinkies were tucked under her small muffin top, gripping the fat like he needed it. “I’d quite enjoy that, I think.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she murmured, finally feeling the blush creeping onto her cheeks at the tips of her pointed ears. “I see you've relaxed quite a bit, good.”
A soft hum of acknowledgment was all Iowen got from Alistair, as she felt his fingers squeeze her flesh once more. For once she was thankful for the high cut of this dress, the warmth of his fingers against her exposed skin may have given him that extra boost he needed. She could feel his nail just barely digging in, his hesitation still present.
They were already so close in this tent, but it still felt like there was a gap between them. Iowen could feel it in the way he held her, like he was scared of touching her any more than he already was. Her hand began trailing its way up his chest, resting in the crook of his neck momentarily. She tugged him forward, lips just inches from each other. They could feel their breaths intermingle, syncing together.
Alistair's eyes kept drifting between Iowen’s eyes, always drawing him in, and her soft, plush lips, parted ever so slightly as she drew in shallow breaths. Everything about her was beckoning him closer, feeling his body lean towards hers almost naturally. He had never done this before, but something in him knew he was doing something right. He gripped her hips a little tighter, a little more confident as he watched her lips open a little more, finally seeing a soft blush creep to her cheeks.
“You’re very soft,” he murmured, kneading the soft flesh once more. “Like a pillow.”
Alistair wondered silently if her lips were as soft as the rest of her body. Everything about her looked soft, her cheeks were full of youth, her body was all curves, a soft package of temptation sent from the Maker Himself. He relished the feeling of her hand on his chest, just barely gripping his shirt. He wished she would touch him more, but he feared he would lose all of his composure.
“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” Alistair admitted, eyes focused on hers again as he felt her breath against his lips. “But I do know I want to kiss you.”
She sucked in another breath, trying to find her words in her jumbled mind. She just gave a little nod, begging with her eyes. “Please, do.”
That was all he needed to hear. The fact that she was just as desperate as him. He hesitated at first, still hovering a hair away from her lips. He watched her eyes flutter shut as her fingers gripped his shirt, nails beginning to dig into the crook of his neck. Maker, she looked gorgeous. He tugged her hips closer, gripping the flesh to steel his nerves.
Alistair finally pressed his lips to hers, timid and gentle at first. He was right, her lips were as soft as the rest of her. Perhaps the softest part of her. His hands slid up to her waist, temporarily mourning the loss of her skin directly under his fingertips. Iowen shivered slightly as his hands slid up her body, leaning into his touch. She could feel his stubble rubbing against her, tickling her chin. She couldn’t help but smile against his lips, it felt like a wall had finally crumbled between the two, going from nothing to something. And, he was a pretty good kisser for a beginner.
“I do hope you’re smiling because I’m simply amazing at this,” Alistair murmured against her lips, pulling back just slightly. “I am, right?”
Iowen nodded as much as she could, adding a hum of approval. “Yes, you’re doing a very good job. Now, shut up and do it more.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he gripped her with renewed fervor, pressing his lips to hers once more.
He wasn't going to admit this but the praise made him all the needier. Something about knowing he was pleasing Iowen made him want to do it more.
With an almost frustrated growl, Alistair pulled Iowen directly onto his lap, deepening their kiss. Her fingers slid up to tangle in his blond locks, pressing him against her lips more. She could feel his hands grip her even tighter, a small noise coming from his throat, he liked having his hair tugged on. Useful for future interactions, Iowen noted.
His hands were strong on her waist, pulling her so she was flush against his body. He could feel the soft squish of her tummy against his abs, the way her breasts spilled out of her dress, pressing against his chest. She felt like heaven in his arms. She smelled like it too, always smelling herbal and soft from her time making potions and poultices.
Iowen’s teeth caught his bottom lip, biting at the flesh gently. A loud moan escaped his throat, pulling her tighter as he felt her tongue slip in, brushing against his with a soft moan. She was clearly more experienced than he, it was almost intimidating. But, somehow made her all the hotter. Maybe he liked a woman taking charge, sometimes.
Her tongue was soft, yet strong as she explored his mouth, finding his tongue malleable and pliant under hers. He was an eager student, ready to learn how to properly please a woman. And hopefully, that woman would only be Iowen if he had his way.
Alistair let his hands slide lower once more, practically resting on the curve of her ass. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, tightening and pulling her closer as his hands dipped lower. She could feel something hard pressing against her, but if she tried to do anything about it now, poor Alistair might pass away. The best she could do right now is press against it a little more, feeling the moan vibrate against her tongue.
With a final sweep of her tongue over his, she pulled away slowly, a small string of spit connecting them. Alistair’s face was flush, his chest rose and fell with soft pants of need.
“Is this what the Chantry means by being embraced by the Maker’s bosom?” He whispered, half breathless, half chuckling. “That was…wow. Just spectacular.”
Iowen laughed softly, pressing her forehead to his. She could tell her lips were a little puffy too, cheeks flushed slightly. “Why, thank you. You weren’t so bad yourself.”
“Ah, so I’m just naturally adept? I should’ve expected, I am quite the man,” he beamed, getting lost in her eyes again.
With a playful huff, Iowen pushed his chest, starting to make her way off his lap. His hands lingered a bit, reluctant to let go. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, gently brushing her fingers through his hair.
“You might need a bit more practice,” she hummed, a teasing tone back in her voice. “Perhaps I’ll come by tomorrow night for another…study session.”
Iowen didn’t give him a chance to respond, fingers trailing over his scalp as she turned to leave. Thankfully, with her back turned she could hide her giddy smile from Alistair. He didn’t need more of an ego boost.
That night, Iowen managed to ignore her darkspawn nightmares. This may become a nightly habit.