There and Back Again Ch. 043-044

"Which reminds me..."

He hopped off the bed, grabbing a washcloth off the washstand and dampening it slightly. I watched him with half-lidded eyes, his muscular body and bronze skin reflecting the candlelight slightly. I finally got my first actual look at a real-life, naked penis, and my mouth dropped open. Standing up proudly from a thatch of blond hair, he was still hard, and I certainly was no expert, but that thing looked enormous. I pried my eyes away as he climbed back onto the mattress, and noticed his face was beet red again -- clearly he'd noticed where I was looking.

He proceeded to wash his mess off my hip, and I bit my lip. He remained somewhat mottled, and was clearly embarrassed about his orgasm. I debated briefly, but curiosity won in the end.

"So I'm a bit...confused."

He glanced at my face briefly. "Oh?"

"I sort of thought...that this only happened with, you know, some sort of direct stimulation."

His blush deepened. "Normally. But watching you, feeling you...Maker's breath, Sierra, I'm not made of stone."

I reached down to gently brush against his erect length with the back of my hand, tentatively, and it bobbed once. "Are you sure?"

He chuckled, and I flashed him an impish grin.

I stroked his cheek, and he leaned in to my hand. "I'm flattered. Or you're just sheltered. I'm not entirely clear which."

"Both, probably. Can we talk about something other than me humiliating myself?"

"Honey, hey. I'm not offended. In fact there's a warm feeling in an unmentionable place thinking about it."

He raised his eyebrows again, and I waggled mine back making him laugh again. He turned to kiss my palm, before turning his attention back to wiping off my hip. The gentle touch and cool damp of the washcloth raised goosebumps on my skin where he touched, and he seemed fascinated by the reaction, expanding in wider circles watching the little bumps form. After a few extra minutes, by which time the mess was long gone and it was obviously no longer about clean-up, he tossed the washcloth carelessly over his shoulder and just started stroking my skin, from my hip, over my belly, up my side to my shoulder, then down to softly cup a breast. He stifled a groan when my nipple crinkled.

"Sierra..."

I wondered if he had any idea what it did to me to hear him say my name in his killer British accent. I pulled him in for a kiss with one hand while with the other, I felt around until I reached his hard length. I wrapped my hand around him, and he groaned into my mouth. It felt like velvet covering steel, the contrast between the soft skin and the firmness interesting, and I explored gently for a few moments. His hand, still stroking my breast, was trembling, and I recognised signs that he was having trouble maintaining control. That suited me fine; control wasn't what I was looking for.

Deepening the kiss and releasing his erection, I shifted and poked and prodded until he was on top of me. Ever the gentleman, he kept his weight on his elbows -- beside my head -- and his knees, which were wedged between mine. I could feel his cock resting on my belly, and my nipples brushed slightly against his chest. The provocative position had me burning to be filled, to make love to the gorgeous man hovering over me. I explored his back, shoulders, and chest briefly with my hands as he continued the kiss, sweeping his tongue into my mouth to engage mine. His only reaction to my hands was some goosebumps of his own, and his tremor felt a bit more prominent. Knowing he was as anxious, as desperate as I, was a huge turn-on. I want him, now.

I reached down between us to grasp his erection again. I tugged gently and he slid his knees down until he was more directly lined up for the next event. I swiped the tip through my now-sopping folds, and he pulled out of the kiss to hiss in pleasure at the heat and damp. I placed him against my opening and released him, awaiting the first thrust with some trepidation. When nothing happened, I glanced up to make eye contact with a very fearful-looking templar.

He bit his lip, and he looked so much like a scared little boy, but at the same time so incredibly sexy. I had to laugh, and he frowned. I shook off the laugh -- inappropriate timing, Sierra! -- and wriggled underneath him. When he still hesitated, I finally found my voice, though I barely recognised it, low and husky with need.

"Please, Alistair." I gripped his ass, pulling him to me, though I knew I had no hope of moving him if he didn't cooperate. "Please." My knees pulled up beside his hips, my legs wrapping around so my heels brushed his thighs.

Watching my face with incredible intensity, I finally felt him move. He flexed, and the very tip of him entered me an inch. The delicious spreading of my wet channel had me groaning in pleasure, and he paused. I thrust my hips towards him, and he gasped as I gained another inch. I was momentarily surprised by a sharp flash of pain, which felt like...Oh, good God, this body was a virgin. I decided to think about it later, distracted as I was by other things. Fortunately, within a few seconds, the pain disappeared as though it had never happened.

He moved again, slowly claiming me. I'd never felt spread so far -- I was now more than sure that my only previous experience had been much less well endowed -- but instead of the pain I expected, there was only a mild stretching sensation, which wasn't unpleasant.

Encouraged by my expression, I felt his muscles tense as he pulled out a tiny amount and then pressed back in more firmly, claiming two more inches. I felt incredibly full, and I knew I was going to be much more so before we were done. Anticipation made me clench, teasing the length inside me. He groaned and thrust again, and then again as I urged him on with my legs.

My eyes were closed as I experienced the new sensations coursing through me, but they popped open as I felt Alistair take a handful of my hair and tug lightly.

"Keep your eyes on me, Love. I need to see you."

I nodded, though keeping them open seemed a major chore. Somehow, though, everything was much more intense as I watched his face while he slowly, gently stretched me. Every time he gained new ground my eyelids would flutter, and I would struggle to open them again. I kept trying, his hazel eyes drawing mine in every time, and he gasped softly every time our gazes met.

He finally bottomed out, and I grunted as he bumped against my cervix. He instinctively pulled back a fraction of an inch, relieving the discomfort, while his gaze searched my face.

"Okay?"

"Maker, yes, please." I shuddered, unable to hold still. I never dreamed this could feel this good, and we've barely started. Only a tiny portion of my brain noted my Fereldan curse; the rest was too busy urging me to move, to beg, to do whatever it took to get him to take me hard and fast.

He growled, possessively, as he claimed my mouth in a heated kiss, and I finally let my eyes drift shut. He nibbled and sucked my lip, then his tongue swept through to stroke mine. His hands were in my hair, kneading and tugging, and all I could do was writhe and moan under him. After an eternity, he pulled back, locking gazes with mine again, and finally started to move.

When he withdrew, I whined in disappointment, only to cry out as he plunged back in to my stretched opening. Helpless, I could only grip his hips and cling with my legs as each thrust took me higher and higher. The angle must have been perfect, somehow, because he rubbed against my clit with each thrust, and my hips met his with abandon. His slow pace kept me from peaking, and the pleasure just built and built until I was writhing and shuddering under him, not quite there but so close.

He sped up, and finally howled out my name as he found his release; I was so close that his sexy voice, calling my name out, and his hard, irregular thrusting as he spent were enough to send me over as well. I bit his shoulder to stop myself from screaming or doing something else embarrassing, not hard enough to break the skin but definitely hard enough to bruise. He gasped and thrust into me again, hard, triggering a cascade of aftershocks ricocheting between us. When it finally settled, he collapsed down onto me, swooping down to kiss me with bruising force. My legs were still wrapped around his hips; I didn't have the energy to move them. Still buried inside me, I could feel him softening as I clung to him, tears I couldn't explain leaking from the corners of my eyes. His strong fingers slowly kneaded my scalp, and he lifted his head to make eye contact again.

When he spotted my tears, his response was immediate; he rolled off me, extricating himself from my leaden limbs and cradling me in his arms.

"Oh, Maker, I knew I was going to hurt you. Should I go get Wynne?"

I giggled, sniffling and wiping my tears. "You didn't hurt me. Honestly. And besides, what would we even say to Wynne? 'I fell down the stairs and hurt my-'"

He cut me off with a snort of amusement. "She'd never see through that excuse, certainly. But...are you sure I didn't hurt you?" I nodded and cuddled in closer to his side. "Then why, by Andraste's knickers, are you crying?"

"I vote we leave Andraste's knickers entirely out of our sex lives, okay?"

He snorted again. "Point taken."

"I'm crying because...I don't know. I'm just happy."

"Maker! Women are strange. I'll never understand you, will I?"

"Nope." I grinned. "Which is exactly how it was meant to be."