I wanted something different as far as the first love scene between Alistair and my Warden. I was a little put-off by how detached the main character seemed from the whole conversation – if some hottie was pouring his heart out to me, I think I'd be a little more interactive. So I stirred things up a bit. I hope you enjoy my take.

We Won't Say Forever…

He had received gifts from her before. They all had. She had spent her life in wealth typical of her noble birth, and giving gifts was something her mother had taught her to do early on; to share what she had. It was in her nature to approach any one of them at camp and present them with a trinket, a book, a bottle of ale, whatever she thought would please them. They were her friends, Valeria had said once; the only family she had left. It lightened her heart to see them smile.

But this time, it was clear she knew this present was different. This gift was handled with reverence, and when she passed it into his fingers she said nothing about how she obtained it or why she thought he'd like it. She simply stood there, watching.

The amulet was still warm from being held by her for what must have been a while. Tiny cracks scarred its face; differing it from his memory. But the cracks just reinforced the knowledge that this was indeed the very pendant he had worn as a child. The only memento he had of a mother he had never known.

He stared dumbly at the bauble, realizing to his mild surprise that he was prattling on aimlessly about where she had found it and how he had lost it. Valeria knew all of this already, of course. She had found it, after all, and he had told her how he had lost it sometime ago during a fit of childish rage. Of course that's how she had known it when she found it, and why he was receiving it instead of Morrigan; whose taste for jewelry would normally put her first in line for such a gift.

"Thank you," he said at last, "I mean it." It seemed so inadequate a phrase, and he felt his chest tighten at the thoughtfulness of the gesture she had just made. "Did you remember me mentioning it?" Another brilliant question. But if there was one thing he was good at, it was sounding like a complete fool… at least with her. Her eyes flickered to her feet momentarily and he could have sworn that she was nervous. Was that even possible? He couldn't remember ever seeing her like this before.

"Of course I remembered," she said softly, her cheeks turning pink – pink of all things! "You're special to me." Her hands wrung until the leather of her gloves squeaked, though she raised her head and tried to affix a calm expression to her blushing face.

Alistair chuckled low, though inwardly his mind was buzzing and his heart was trying to break through his ribs. She hadn't said it like she would have to Wynne. And making a comment like that to Leliana wouldn't have her turning every shade of red in creation. Her strawberry locks looked almost drab in comparison to her adopted complexion – something he had never thought possible.

Oh Maker… does she…

He'd never had a woman do this to him before; both her actions and the feelings they inspired within him.

The women who frequented the Templar training grounds and station posts offered favors for coin. Never did they look at you with anything other than want, for coin or flesh or both at times. And the noble women who sought out a warrior to sate their wild desires always looked upon his kind as though it was the fighting men's duty to service their betters in all ways. He had been grateful there had always been other men eager to steal the women's attention from him. Because of that he'd never had a messy encounter with a woman he had to turn down. He had indeed become a master at deflection.

Valeria's eyes cast back to her leather boots, using the toe of one to dig a small pebble out of the dirt with seemingly great patience. "I… was hoping we could… discuss something personal. If you're not busy, that is."

Alistair swallowed hard. She was bumbling!

"Well, we're in camp." He said slowly, trying his best to sound as though her request didn't turn his insides to liquid.

She nodded, chewing her lip thoughtfully. Silence passed between them and Alistair, who had the fantastic habit of filling awkward silence with mindless chatter, felt the compulsion yet again.

"I guess, now's as good a time as any-"

Valeria closed the distance between them in a single step.

Long fingers slid behind his neck, threading up into his hair, and rising up on her toes to make up for the inch or two he had over her, Valeria kissed him softly. Heat radiated from her face as she blushed hotly. Or maybe it was his face that scorched them? Or perhaps both? All she truly knew was Alistair's lips against hers, the feel of his mouth as it transformed beneath hers. Unyielding flesh softening as the surprise gave way, molding to encase her lower lip within his.

Twining his arms around her waist, he pulled Valeria closer to him, willing himself to feel her lithe body melt against him. To his frustration, a layer of silverite and another of leather kept him from knowing the exquisite feel of her form against his. One small hand left his neck, trailing down. He felt her hand drawing his arm further around her, as though trying to tighten his hold.

The taste of her silken lips on his, the urgency of her pull at his arm, and Alistair felt something well up inside him; burning and all consuming. Something he had felt hints of in the past, but now experienced with all of the subtlety of a landslide.


"Maker's Breath!" He swore with a gasp that broke the kiss.

Valeria's eyes widened. The tug at his arm stopped and her fingers released his hair instantly. She was rigid beneath his touch; wrenching herself from his arms, her gloved fingers flying to her mouth.

Oh no…

"I'm so sorry," she blurted. "I didn't mean… I mean I meant it but… Please don't think I gave you the amulet for this. I didn't. I mean…" Valeria, the most composed and self assured person he had ever known – short of Duncan, was falling all over herself in embarrassment. Her eyes dropped to the ground; mortified. "I'm sorry Alistair…"

"No, please," Alistair beseeched over her apologies, desperate to repair the damage he had wrought with his inexperience, "please don't do that. Oh, I'm such a fool." Tentatively he reached out and took up her hand without drawing near.

"Do you know what you do to me?" His voice was soft, but broken, and Valeria stilled. The fire that burned through his veins fiercer than the taint ever could was now accompanied by an icy anxiety, making his stomach turn and his fingers fumble nervously. "I can't think straight. I can't… I can't see reason when I'm with you."

"I don't understand." She breathed, confusion marring her smooth features. He forced himself to take a breath, to think before he spoke next. He wouldn't hurt her. Not now. Not ever, if he could help it.

"When I'm with you," he said softly, "all of the horror, all of the pain, it just disappears. And all that's left is you. No one has ever made me feel like this before. I didn't even think it was possible." With one hand he cupped her face as gently as he could, mindful of the metal that still clad his fingers. The tension in her spine receded slightly; the worry lifted from her eyes.

A shadow moved near the fire. Someone was close to them; closer than Alistair wanted. Who it was didn't matter. Valeria's eyes flickered to the silhouette as well, aware that they were not alone. Sparkling green eyes rose to meet with amber once more and the worry in Alistair's stomach dissolved. There was something there in her gaze, something that told him she wasn't going to try to leave.

"I feel the same way," she murmured. "I think I have for some time." Moving slowly, as though he were afraid of startling away a skittish deer, Alistair took Valeria back into his arms. When her hands slid up to rest upon his biceps he almost whispered a prayer of thanks to Andraste.

"I'm not any good at this, I know. I've never… there's never been anyone before you." He fought the urge to look away from her; fought the shame that had been trained into him since he first entered the Chantry's service as a boy. "I've never done anything like this before."

Valeria nodded weakly, "I understand. I wasn't lying either, when I told you I'd never…" a single chortle rose form Alistair's chest as he recalled their childish euphemism; their first real flirtation. In truth, it had been the first time he had engaged in that sort of talk with any woman in a way that was totally honest. But now the feel of her breath against his neck dispelled the memory, fond as it was, and faster than he thought possible the boiling need returned to his blood.

"I'm probably saying this wrong… or doing it wrong… but…" He peered at her from beneath his brow, as though too timid to face her directly. "I don't want to wait anymore." He whispered. "Spend the night with me. Here, in camp. Please." Valeria's eyes widened.

She knew what value he placed on intimacy and how careful he was to avoid moving too quickly. He was a gentleman, through and through. Even their flirtations had always ended quickly. Alistair would not permit anything that went beyond the light and humorous. "Are you sure this is what you want?" She asked and immediately regretted the question. She had just given him a chance to take it back – and more than anything she didn't want that.

No; more than anything she didn't want him to regret being with her. If there was a chance of it, better to know now than the following morning.

She wouldn't risk what they had for one night in his arms.

"We may never get the chance that others get. That perfect moment where the stars align and you know that this is it - forever." He said with a sadness she understood all too well. "I don't want to go through life never knowing what it was like to be with the one I…" His words died out, but not before Valeria pieced it together.

With the one I love. It hung in the air like a heady perfume. Her heart thrummed wildly within her chest at the unspoken.

She swallowed hard. In his admission she also heard his plea for acceptance. For love.

She wondered how he could not know that he had long held both within her heart.

Threading her fingers through his, Valeria looked into his eyes, waiting for him to meet her gaze and hold firm.

"Come with me." She whispered so softly he barely heard her, and yet found himself wondering who else in their party had overheard the command. Valeria moved around the fire, passing Zevran's tent, then Alistair's, before coming to a stop at her own. One last look over her shoulder to the man that would tonight become her lover and Valeria ducked inside, allowing Alistair to hold open the tent flap for her.

His ears burned hot; he knew the others were watching at his back. The camp was utterly silent behind him. Stooping low, Alistair tried to put their companions out of his thoughts and entered the temporary shelter, pausing only to secure the flap shut with the twin lengths of twine.

While the interior was dim, the blazing campfire outside managed to cast enough light through the white canvas for them to see well enough without the need for a lantern.

Valeria had already removed her boots and was kneeling on the bedroll, peeling the leather gloves from her fingers as though it was the most important task in Thedas. He followed her example, shedding footwear and gauntlets beside the entrance as discreetly as he could. From beyond, Leliana had started to sing. Though it was not uncommon for the bard to sing at camp, it was usually done quietly and mostly for herself. Yet tonight she sang heartily, so that the others could hear, as she most likely settled into her nightly ritual of fletching arrows for her bow.

Bless that woman. Alistair swore he would never crack another joke about her vision or sanity again.

The click of armor releasing from its catches caught his attention. Behind him, Valeria had set to work on dislodging him from his plate mail, never once looking him in the face. In moments he was down to a plain white shirt and his trousers.

While she was still clad in her vexing leather coverings.

Women's armor confounded him – it had no clear fasteners and seemed a complicated thing to adorn each day. Or maybe it was just his complete inexperience with women's clothing.

Raising her arm, Valeria began loosening the laces at her side that held the garment tight to her, and was quickly enough able to discard the gear into the same pile as Alistair's.

Beneath she wore nothing but her small clothes.

"Maker's Breath," Alistair sighed, or would have, had he breath left within his lungs. It was his favorite curse, and while Valeria was usually not one for swearing, somehow that particular epithet had found a sentimental place in her heart. Because it was his.

This time she did not fear the meaning of the oath, the shine of his eyes told her that he enjoyed what he saw, and it raised her confidence slightly. On hands and knees she moved closer to him, her fingers finding the hem of his shirt.

"I think we won't get very far if you're still wearing this." She murmured with a small smile that teased ever so slightly. Her fingertips trailed gently up his ribs as she lifted the fabric, waiting for him to raise his arms in compliance. With his chest now bare to the skin, it was Valeria's turn to release a shuddering breath of approval. Tentative fingers reached out and touched the warm skin over his heart. Alistair shivered at the touch, his fingers reaching up to press her hand against his chest firmly.

"What is there is yours," he said gently, "always." He could promise her that, at least.

His vow drove the timorousness from her, and acting purely on impulse, Valeria pressed her bare skin to his, claiming his mouth in a kiss far deeper than the one they had shared outside. Strong arms, bare and warm against her flesh, held her to him as though she could slip away like smoke in an instant. Her arms encircled his neck, finger burying into thick honey brown hair.

When the tip of his tongue tested her lower lip gently she felt something akin to the tingle of lightening in the air course through her body. Parting her lips, she used her own tongue to beckon him in, and Alistair groaned against her mouth, answering her encouragement eagerly.

Arms slid open so that hands had leave to explore. His shoulder blade, her collarbone, his stomach, her ribs; every inch of skin that was deemed safe was explored. Feminine fingers danced lightly over her lover's chest, caressing the darker flesh that perked into a hard bead at her touch. She paused to give the eager region special treatment, fluttering fingers over his flesh and eliciting a soft moan from him. Despite her advancement, Alistair still hesitated.

Without breaking the kiss they were thoroughly engaged in, Valeria sought out and clutched his battle roughened fingers within hers, guiding him to her breast, where she slipped him beneath the fabric that bound her. Alistair's hand trembled at the touch of forbidden skin, though he did not pull away while she positioned his fingers so they grasped the hardness that tipped her pillowy mound. Following what he believed she wanted, Alistair ran a calloused thumb over the protrudence delicately. At this, a wave of pleasure threaded its way up her spine, causing Valeria to writhe against his touch.

Extracting himself from her lips, Alistair shifted his mouth over to the softness of her throat, his eyes falling to the sight of his tanned hand as it gently worked her breast. He could scarcely believe that it was his hand; that she was before him, inviting him to touch her, to experience her. Reaching an arm behind herself, Valeria released the catch on the negligible garment, letting the silky material slip to her lap, revealing herself to his view.

"So… beautiful," it was another understatement. Wondrous would have been better. She was fair and smooth, her skin practically luminescent in the pale light. He raised his face to hers once more, noticing that her cheeks were warm and heavily tinted in the dim light. Yet despite the battle she was currently waging against her modestly, Valeria still managed to smile at him.

"I think," she murmured, casting her eyes down pointedly, "you have an unfair advantage here."

His trousers.

"Right." He said awkwardly, suddenly understanding why she blushed so hotly and feeling himself grow warm as well. Here he would display himself to her as she did to him. Her fingers found the laces at his waist.

"May I?" She glanced back to his face, checking to see his reaction.

"Yes, please." He was fairly certain he'd only create a terrible knot in his current state, thus bringing an end to their intended activities.

Then again, one of her daggers could easily remedy that situation – not that he cared to have a blade so close to his anatomy.

Slender fingers made quick work of the laces to his relief, and Alistair rose up onto his knees, allowing her to push the fabric down passed his hips. As she removed his trousers, Valeria hooked her thumbs over the top of his smallclothes, slowly dragging the material down toned hips and thighs. Alistair tensed, fighting the urge to stop her.

This was what he wanted. He had to let this happen. It was foolish to-

"Maker's Mercy…" it was odd to hear an oath such as that cross her lips, and Alistair wondered if he had offended her just now with his arousal. He knew that there was nothing timid about his nether regions at the moment; that part of him did not take note of things like propriety. But when gentle fingertips brushed his length curiously all worry was forgotten; and all he could do was gasp at the sensation of the foreign touch upon his masculinity. Her breath upon his manhood as she bent to finish removing his clothing only made it worse, and the ache between his legs grew insistent.

Was it possible to die of desire? He'd never heard of anyone dying from it, but then he guessed it could have happened. He certainly felt it was possible now.

"Alistair?" She whispered at his stomach, the staccato breath of his name on her lips causing him to twitch against his belly, and he groaned in both embarrassment and longing.


"I…" her voice was weak and she did not raise her face to look up at him, "I think I want… I…"

Oh Maker, she had changed her mind. She didn't want this anymore. Shutting his eyes tightly against the screaming denial in his head, Alistair fought for control of himself.

"Whatever you want," he forced out at last, trying to sound as though he understood. "I swear, it won't change how I feel for you."

She didn't move, didn't speak. For six agonizing seconds, Alistair waited for her to tell him to redress and leave her tent.

Moist warmth engulfed his arousal, and Alistair's eyes practically bulged from his skull at the sensation. Lowering his gaze, he found Valeria had taken him into her mouth, and was now giving his manhood the same attention she had bestowed upon his tongue earlier. She explored his heat, pressing tongue to flesh; gliding lips over skin that stretched and smoothed as he expanded to his fullest. Alistair grunted, fighting the urge to double over.

"V-Valeria…" his head swam and he found it harder and harder to hold himself upright. He was going to fall onto her any moment. Or worse. His insides had started to twist and tense, readying for something he knew he did not yet want. "W-wait…" Startled eyes rose to him in the dim light and she pulled her mouth from his flesh, to his utter dismay and relief.

"Was that… not right?" She was timid, clearly worried she had crossed the line. He took her by the shoulders, slowly bringing her up to eye level with him again, running the backs of his fingertips over her cheek.

"I don't want it to end like that." He admitted at last. "Maker woman, where did you learn that?"

"I didn't…" she said softly, "I just wanted to… to discover your body. To love more of you than just your mouth. I… didn't offend you, I hope." Her hand played nervously at her throat, aware that she had just moved well beyond simple kissing and petting.

She was experimenting. Toying with things she probably overheard as a girl from coarse servants who had not enough sense to watch their tongues.

Of course Valeria would be adventurous, it was in her nature. She almost never backed down from any challenge, he had learned. Yet her anxiety told him more than her words how new this all was to her, and the way her hands quivered said that she was far more nervous of his reaction than she should be. With a gentle touch he guided her down onto the soft bedroll, crawling over her slowly, his eyes never leaving hers.

"You've had your turn," he said in a low growl. "Now it's mine."

Sliding his hands to her sides and then down her hips, he began rolling the fabric of her smallclothes down her legs and off of her body completely. His mouth started at her stomach, his lips and tongue tracing the toned line of definition down her belly to her womanhood. Nuzzling her thighs with his nose, he bade her to part her legs for him, which she did slowly.

"Alistair?" Her whisper was hesitant, at odds with the fierce rogue he knew her to be outside of the tent.

His mouth found her folds and at the first tender kiss he placed there, his newfound lover cried out softly, writhing beneath his contact and moaning his name in a chant he could grow to love more than that of the Chantry. Never in his life could he ever have imagined his name could sound so… erotic.

His kisses remained gentle, his tongue doing as much searching and prodding as hers had. He explored her, learned her depths and peaks; and found a small bead of flesh that caused her to cry out loud when he took it into his lips and suckled it gently. Sweat sprang to her flesh and warm honey flowed from her as she clutched at his shoulders, pushing him onward, begging him not to stop.

Begging him…

With his fingers Alistair parted her folds to grant him better access to that point that drove his beloved to a frenzy and, feeling curious himself, allowed one finger to slip into her just a little bit. She had dared first, after all, and in doing so had set the rules of the evening.

She bucked into his hand and cried out to the heavens. All Alistair could to do to silence her was claim her mouth with his; leaving his hand where it rested, unwilling to deprive her of the pleasure it brought her.

Slowly, carefully, he pushed himself further into her body, adding another finger to the first and feeling her soft insides pull at him, drawing him in as though her body was trying to claim him.

Will she do this with…

He resisted the urge that throbbed beneath his navel, holding her at bay with his hands and lips. His mouth traveled low again, taking one pink peak into his lips where it hardened against his working tongue. Hands that had snapped the necks of darkspawn now worked lovingly at stroking her insides as he would the petals of a rose - his touch still firm enough to feel the softness of her walls yield at his ministrations. Her hands roved hungrily down his stomach, seeking his weakness, whimpering her yearnings from above his head. His fingers were bathed in her response to him, warm and running down his palm while he returned to her mouth, wanting to battle her tongue. Wanting to taste her flowing heat, her budding peaks – her everything.

"Please, Alistair," she moaned into his mouth, "please… don't make me wait anymore."

She found and tugged at his manhood, trying to bring him closer to her goal. The response it caused within him was enough to make Alistair forget his desire to taste her nectar once more. When he sucked a harsh breath in from between their teeth, Valeria's fingers tightened their hold and pulled gently against the member for a second time, realizing she had done something that brought him pleasure. Alistair whimpered; the muscles in his torso rippled in glorious agony. Pleasure so great it nearly caused pain… his hips met against her hand and she shifted beneath him so that he lay between her thighs. Her fingers tightened, sliding back up the shaft so that she could pull at it with kind insistence; repeating the action again and again so that he would shudder above her repeatedly. The hazy look in his eyes left her drunk with desire.

"Come to me?" She breathed into his ear.

"My Lady," his voice was graveled and heavy with such attachment it almost broke her heart, "your desire is my command."

Removing his touch from her femininity, Alistair took hold of himself, placing it at her entrance. The heat and wetness there awoke something within him, something instinctual and demanding. He needed to bury himself in that sensation – to plunge into her depths and assert her body as his and only his.

But she was untouched, and just as he knew about childbirth, so did he know about a woman still in possession of her purity.

The sisters at the monastery had told him that deflowering a woman was a horrendous thing. It made her cry and bleed as the man tore through flesh too fragile to bear the strain. He wondered how much of that was true.

Valeria's hips lifted against him, trying to push him into her center of her own accord. "No please… don't stop. Not now…" It was a whimper that smacked of defeat.

She was afraid he was having second thoughts?

He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of such an idea, but lust choked off that ability. Instead he groaned.

"Hold tight to me, my dear," he whispered, taking one earlobe into his lips briefly. The rogue complied, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, holding on as though he were the only thing that would keep her from being swept away.

As gently as he could, with all of the restraint he possessed, he sheathed himself within her heat, feeling her fight against the urge to recoil, hearing her breath catch. Her eyes pressed closed as she fought for control of herself. He paused and waited, touching his forehead to hers, wishing that pain didn't have to invade every aspect of their lives.

Seconds passed where the only sound to be heard was Valeria's breath. Alistair for his part dared not breathe, lest the movement cause her any more hurt. Her hands eventually traveled lower on his back, coming to rest on his buttocks, and Alistair exhaled heavily when she began to pull him into her further, her hips lifting, coaxing him in.

Her legs lifted, wrapping around his thighs, pinning him against her.

"Alistair," she whispered at last, "come to me, please…"

All of the restraint he had possessed shredded into nothing, and he buried himself to the hilt within her, noticing with infinite pleasure that she did indeed draw him in as she had before. Her back arched, thrusting her body against his chest, and he captured her mouth with his, his hands roved over her planes and valleys without his knowledge of their travels. His tongue sought hers out, caressing her lip and making way for her to do the same.

He was no longer timid, no longer afraid of what she would say or think. Alistair had taken her, declared her to be his, if not in words then in actions, and Valeria surrendered to him gladly. Her body was meant for his hands, her lips for his mouth. Her heart was his to break or fill at his whim. It was no longer a choice for her. It was already done.

He drove himself into her, and every time they collided completely he thought it could never be enough. Not her. Not this. She was more addictive than Lyrium and fatal if he were to be deprived of her for too long. She was more than just in his veins, like the taint or a drug; she had permeated every fiber of his being. Here in the tent her fingers burrowed into his hair, her nails scratching at his scalp lightly; and then his back with less restraint. She would leave her mark upon his skin tonight.

And upon his soul forever.

She clutched at him, pulling herself tighter against his sculpted body, then pushing away so she could ravage his chest, collarbone and throat with hard, wet kisses that had him hissing and groaning her name. His lips found her throat and he followed the satiny column back to her jaw, her cheek, and her lips. Her face now flushed hot not from modesty, but from passion so fierce it caused the pair to forget everything but each other. He was solid, and heavy, and real. The strong muscles of his flanks and back flexed between her thighs as he moved within her, turning her insides to liquid fire and her mind into a white fog that held only enough consciousness for her to be aware of the tangible world.

Her walls tightened around him, her body started to quake. Alistair swore absently under his breath, knowing he would not last much longer. Not with her core gripping him so tightly, imploring…

"Please," she panted into his ear, her voice so covetous it was unlikely she was aware that she spoke, "Alistair… oh…. Blazing Sword of An-… Alistair…" his name drew out in length upon her lips, but he wouldn't have noticed if she had called for the Maker himself. Her hips bucked into him rigorously, demanding his length, her body trembled down through the legs that clung to him so forcefully.

And he could do nothing but follow her into a wave of passion and pleasure that stole thought from his mind and breath from his body. Release came to him with such intensity it roiled agony into bliss and became a torture he willed never to end. The shuddering gasp of his lover was buried by a moan that originated somewhere in the deep roads and ended in his throat. With a final quiver that reverberated both inside and out, Valeria stilled beneath him, breathless and slick with sweat.

On trembling arms Alistair braced upon his elbows, holding himself above her cautiously until she pulled his head down to her bare breast. No longer passionate, her fingers combed tenderly through his hair, her lips grazing the skin of his temple. The fire of their need had been doused, and now all that remained was the tenderness that had never really left.

For the first time in so long, Alistair could not find the will to fill the silence with chatter. The quiet was almost sacred; the sound of her heart beneath his ear called to him, promising him peace if he only stayed where he was. There would be no need to draw the blanket over them; their shelter held enough heat to see them through the night.

"I suspect," she whispered at last, "your tent will be only a formality from now on." His head lifted from its beating pillow and he turned an expression of such vulnerability upon her Valeria wondered how many times he could break her heart in a single evening. She had never had someone look upon her the way he did.

"Tell me you mean that," he whispered. Tilting her head up, she planted a light kiss at the tip of his nose.

"Stay with me." Though it was not a question, her appeal was clear. "Tonight and every night after, for as long as we are able."

She wouldn't say forever. Not yet. He would not promise something he could not be sure of, she knew. Their futures were uncertain. There was no knowing if they would survive what lay ahead. If she asked for forever, he would have to deny her.

She didn't want to hear him say that, even if it was only a temporary denial. She would wait instead.

She would ask only for what she knew he could promise. For now that would have to be enough.

Alistair smiled gently, giving his answer without words, but with the touch of his lips to hers. His weight slid from her body, and he pulled her onto her side, pressing her back to his chest so that he could rest a hand over her heart.

Her palm slid over his fingers, holding them in place.

"What is there is yours," she repeated his words, "always." His lips caressed her ear and she sighed languorously, allowing the fatigue and bliss of her body to infect her mind, lulling her into sleep.

Sometime later, after Valeria's breathing had evened out, and her fingers curled possessively over his, Alistair remained propped on one elbow, watching her sleep. Weariness pulled at his lids and made his limbs heavy against the thick blankets. But tonight was the first night he had taken his lover into his arms and into their bed. He wanted to remember this.

Valeria sighed lightly as she settled herself into a more comfortable place against his chest; her grip on his fingers shifted to press them once more to her heart. Even in sleep she would not let him go.

Though his mouth wouldn't form the words for her, and his mind argued that such a thing was not within his power-

In his heart, Alistair was already promising Valeria forever.



I wanted a smut fest, and with Alistair you have to incorporate love to stay in canon – so bonus for me! I've thrown around the idea of writing a one-shot lemon fic for a while and finally found my muse yesterday. This was fun to write. :o) What can I say? I'm a fangirl!