They walked in a comfortable but weighted silence, each lost in their own thoughts as he lead them from the meadow. Cerva had come to hate the meadow. But that was a useless thought. He wasn't sure what consumed Luster's quiet attention in that beautiful mind of hers, but he couldn't help but replay what had just passed between them. When she told him she'd come with him.
"Don't be sorry," she had whispered to him, soft kisses staking their tender claim across his face, his cheeks. "I'm not." And when she'd nursed at his wounds again, when he'd moaned into her neck and pinched her skin, she arched firmly against him. God, he'd nearly lost it. To see how reflexive her body reacted to him, imagining all the things he could do to coax more of her instinct to want him back. To beg for more of him.
He shouldn't want her this way. It was cruel of him. He should be capable of being a friend without being a lover. But that was all he'd ever known. He only ever knew how to be absolutely everything for one person. For Cerva. A son, a friend, a guardian, a lover. Anything at all she needed, or wanted, was him. All of it. All of him. Maybe that was what he craved again, the dark obsession that kept him firmly at Cerva's side through everything, every moment, sharing every breath together. Not just sharing a bed together. Every moment. He wanted that again.
"Your name, please." She had tried again for it. He could only shake his head silently with a faint smile, knowing with more certainty now how quickly it would undo him to hear it on her lips in that silky-silver voice. Especially when he made her breathless, as she was now, with the things he could do, would do, wanted to do. No, he should definitely not give her his name. Maybe when they got home, if he could calm down. Stay calm.
"Don't do that. Don't hide from me." She had slowly unraveled him further with everything she said. "I think it would hurt so much worse to be without you, right now." As though she could know the language of his dark heart, that its response was: then never be without me. Breaking him down, bit by bit, making him want her more. In every way that he shouldn't.
And through it all, she had been as physical and needing as he was, kissing him everywhere she could reach with the gentle pass of her lips. It made it so much harder for him not to press for more, give her more, hope for more in return. He was determined to try and be a friend for her. She didn't need a lover, not now. Just be a friend, he could do that, couldn't he? Fuck, probably not. But he'd try. He could at least try.
"Give me something to hold on to."
And so he would take her home, and she could hold onto him.
His thoughts turned to a more distant past as they continued, nearly to the sea now. To a night, the only other time, that he'd shared his home with a woman. He'd done as he always does, he'd given his homeland in place of his name and she'd come to seek him out. He hadn't brought her with him, as he did with Luster just then. But he'd never shared that place with anyone before her, or anyone after, besides his daughter. Until now.
It felt like a big step somehow, but he didn't let it show in his face as he turned back to her. She'd hesitated at the edge of the water, her eyes wide, dark, fragile. He held her gaze in his, steady and calm, patient, until she stepped forward. And then stepped again, until she could bury her face into his hair. He touched her in reflex, gentle and wanting, a warm breath to her neck while water licked at their knees. God, he couldn't help but want more of her. But, no. He would be a friend. He could do that. So he tried to bottle it in and ignore it, that growing desire to have her pressed close to him. Here and now. At all times.
He walked forward, guiding them deeper as the sun was slowly sinking beyond the horizon. She followed with a tentative kiss at his hip, and he was reminded again of Cerva, of how they could never get enough of each other. Always touching. Always reaching. Always pressing into warmth. For a moment, he thought Luster might be slowly killing him with this, with how she was. With how close she was to maybe what he needed, wanted. But she loved already, some idiot that let her away from his side. And he had... to figure shit out. Leliana still haunted him despite that he could never find her anymore. And Dizzy. He'd thrown himself at Dizzy in his pain, and came out of it with far more than a distraction. He wasn't sure what, but it hadn't been just sex. Maybe. Damn, he didn't want to think about any of that.
He was instantly aware that she'd fallen behind, a sharp blade of fear gutting into him as he turned to see the quiet panic in her eyes. Then he was at her side, lifting her chin more for reassurance rather than necessity. A silent way of promising, I'm here. I won't let you go. And they stayed side-by-side until they reached the shore, and after when they took a moment to rest and she leaned into him. He couldn't help but curl his head to kiss at her face, tenderly licking the salt from her skin and only stopping when little creatures of light came alive in the water beside them.
It was in painful awe that he watched them, glowing fish of her creation swimming so naturally next to the luminescent shore. Her magic was nothing like his physical traits. There was nothing good about him save for the base fact that the armor protected him. But maybe he shouldn't be protected in the first place. Her magic though, was beautiful, graceful, powerful. She could be destructive, protective, creative. It didn't always have to be a weapon, like him. Something beautiful, instead.
With a light kiss to her cheek, he turned away from those thoughts and guided them further along the shore, her light-fish following at their side. He preferred this route rather than trekking through the island, preferred to avoid the residents when he could. Even still, it wasn't much longer when he cut into the jungled forest a ways and led them home. To a rockface covered in vines, a doorway of sorts hidden beneath, and a running spring not far from it. Creations of his master, for a student that bled so very often.
"A cave," she noted quietly, almost amused. She touched her lips to his chin and his eyes slipped closed, hoping, but not asking, for more. "I grew up in a cave."
I grew up in the meadow, he offered back in a murmur.
She pulled away then with a quiet Oh, but he was too distracted with the worry and care in her eyes to realize what had caused it. She was this way with everyone, he told himself. It isn't him. It wasn't because she cared so deeply for him. He was slowly fooling himself into thinking otherwise, maybe. That.. this could ever be something more. But he was a friend, of course. He would be a friend. Something entirely new to him, but he'd learn.
When he did realize why she pulled away, he grimaced. He'd soiled her with his blood, hadn't even noticed that it had started up again. Somehow, he was both dismayed and pleased to see himself painted into her skin. His thoughts died completely, though, as her mouth found his wounds once again. Lips parting in a silent gasp, he ducked his head and froze in place, body stiffening. Dammit, he should have told her not to do that by now. He really needed to. He would. When he could breathe again.
But she continued. She coaxed another soft moan from him, aimed at the ground and hoping she wouldn't catch it. Damn, he wanted her. With each little press, it ignited further, brighter, hotter. His legs started trembling and his breath came short and quick, but thankfully, she did stop then. She looked him over as he lifted his head again, pressed a kiss to that spot of blue and only stoking the fire in him even higher. "Tell me what to do. Tell me how to help."
Fuck, he cursed under his breath, ragged and shaky as it was. Dammit, she felt good. God, he wanted her. All of her. Wanted to hear her finding it hard to breathe too, like he was. Wanted to entice moans from her lips, hear his name like a whispered promise. Or like a plea for more. Fuck, yes, have her to the point of begging him, warm and hot beneath him. Solid and soft and so ready, so eager. So wanting, needing.
FUCK.
A friend, a friend. No sex.
God dammit.
He thought a quiet, hysterical sort of whimper may have come from him before she ducked and pressed herself to his chest again. Naturally, the first thought that came to mind was how easy it would be to shift her, rise above her and hold her under him. So easy to take her. Dammit, he couldn't think.
He kept his eyes closed over his torment as a new sensation spilled over him, a feeling like cool silk being draped and tucked around him. It didn't cool the fire in him, though, as it pressed around the edges of his armor, sank into the angry, raw flesh and set his heart racing even swifter. It soothed it, in a way. Soothed the physical heat with its magic coolness, but damn, silk against sensitive skin was definitely not helping the rest of him.
It wrapped around every edge of him, pulled the two of them tighter together, even closer. Shock followed by more desire, more heat, more want. Fuck, that was hot. "Better or worse?" she asked, her voice so soft and smooth and perfect.
He finally opened his eyes to her, slowly, afraid to show her the frantic, eager, need sitting so quietly there. So loudly there. His chest pulsed with his shallow breathing, and he knew there was no denying, no hiding how badly he wanted her. But he wasn't supposed to. He had to calm down. Somehow. He should walk away, come back after he cools down. Her magic held him in that way that felt surprisingly erotic, or maybe that was just because she'd touched him before and it only built more and more with each thing she did.
He didn't know how to answer her. It was definitely better being pressed so firmly against her. But it could get even better. So much better. Or would that be worse? That would be worse for her, wouldn't it? Fuck. Thinking sucked. He'd never been one to think things through, to control himself, and this was so hard. He was so hard. So many conflicting thoughts running through him. Get away from me. Get under me. Don't touch me. Fuck, just come here.
He knew he should leave. Just for a few minutes. Get this under control. He wanted to. Wouldn't be gone long. But his impossible desire kept him rooted in place. Selfish and wanting. Fuck. Make me go away. Tell me to come closer. Make me leave. Tell me what to do. God, but his mouth wouldn't work for even so few words.
Command me, he breathed instead, a plea, black eyes burning for her.
Its alright, you'll be fine baby, I'm in control
Take the pain, Take the pleasure. I'm the master of both
