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AN: Goddammit I need to get better at describing sensations. I am the Queen of Dialog, but can’t describe physical feelings, tastes, etc, worth a shit. YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE WRITING SEXYTIEMS NOT A MOTHER-IN-LAW GAG!
Excerpt: “She hummed to herself as she worked, her face looking like a fine lady relaxing with a spot of baking, but her body covered in bite marks among the freckles. Her loose hair tickled his knees.”
He had been aimless.
He had drifted from place to place with no thought beyond survival. And now he was free to turn his mind to other things, to find a purpose beyond running and hiding and surviving.
Fenris could think of a thousand places he would rather be than Kirkwall. He could have taken to the seas with Isabela, riding the waves and smelling the salt air and feeling the sun kiss his face. He could have gone north, back to Seheron and the people who had cared for him so many years before. He could have made for Antiva or Rivain, let himself put down roots somewhere warm and humid and lovely.
AVERIS FIC FTW
"The Viscount’s office has announced a crackdown on vice." Aveline took a long pull on her stout and pressed her lips together to wipe off the foam. Beside her, Fenris spread out his hand to prepare for his next move.
"Ooh, that sounds fun. Will it be like the last crackdown where hundreds of innocent elves got shaken down and publicly humiliated, slowing the vice trade by exactly zero percent?" For a happy-go-lucky brigand, Isabela could be quite the agitator. Something unreadable flickered across the elf’s face, then he showed his hand - a Witch’s Coven.
"Where the hell were you hiding that?!!" howled Isabela, as Fenris collected his winnings.
"In my smallclothes," the elf replied blandly.
Why do i do this to myself.
Dwarven coffee house. It is almost midnight. They are the only human and elf inside in a small crowd. Aveline leans over the counter to chat with the barista, a young dwarven woman. Anso steps out from the kitchen, wearing an apron and ready to assume the current barista’s shift. On sight of Aveline, he double takes, then visibly resigns himself to her conversation.
Anso: Not you again.
Aveline: Hello, Anso. Behaving yourself this time?
Anso: Certainly, guard captain. Oh, come on, don’t look at me like that. You can’t blame a dwarf for trying.
Aveline: I certainly can when he’s trying to smuggle lyrium. Back to the slightly more politic usual coffee bean trade, I see.
Anso: Might not be as lucrative, but it’s nearly as addictive and so much better for my heart—- (Fenris steps out from behind Aveline, casually. Anso cuts off abruptly. He tries to keep his expression bland and fails.) Hello. Ah. And, um. What can I get for you two tonight?
Fenris: Double espresso.
Aveline: (smiles at Fenris fondly) Planning on staying up tonight, are you?
Fenris: (lowers lashes, gives her a smouldering look) If I can help it.
Please help - I used the words “twitching hole”, Maker preserve me. Tanukiham? Fragilespark? Anyone who isn’t crap at writing smut? Heeeeeellllllppppp
* * * * * *
“What did you do to her that was so impressive? She still won’t tell me.”
Donnic had somewhat recovered the use of his grey matter, and was content to sit and watch Fenris and Aveline explore each other’s bodies. Fenris was still mostly dressed, and Aveline was running her hands over his silk shirt while he pulled her wrists away every time she tried to undo his buttons. The elf pulled away from nibbling on the point of her chin to suggest “if modesty prevents you from sharing, perhaps you would allow me to show him?”
Aveline turned a bright crimson, but nodded. Still kissing, they made their way onto the couch, where Fenris once again took Aveline’s wrists and held them tight while he tickled her neck and collarbone with his tongue. She hissed and arched her back as he made his way down to her nipples, drawing one in between his lips and sucking cold air around it, flickering his tongue and demanding “Look,” when she closed her eyes. He did this only on one side, knowing it would drive her just a tiny bit mad to not have attention lavished on the other, before trailing soft, fat kisses down her belly.
“Are you sure I can’t pour you some wine?”
“I’m fine.” Aveline sighed, relaxing back into the chair. “There’s an appeal in trying to find something to numb the ache, but this tiredness… Sometimes I feel stronger with the knots in my muscles.”
“So I can’t offer to-” Fenris cleared his throat. “The Fog Warriors had some effective… techniques.”
Aveline raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
Fenris took a drink from the bottle and wondered if it was best to keep quiet.
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