Chapter Text
Ellana Lavellan may be short, even shorter than most elves, and she may be small, but she’s as hardy as they come. Of that, the Iron Bull has no doubt. The petite elf could endure a serious beating, both in battle and in bed, and there could be an endless debate over which she enjoyed more — and sometimes the former led to the latter, through the reverse has yet to occur.
It was also painfully obvious when she had an itch that she needed him to scratch, as is the case today, when her meager form tries to drag the mountain-like Qunari up to her quarters. He doesn’t really mind her shameless lack of subtlety, because it is hard to complain about a woman who is so eager to jump his bones that she can’t keep it to herself, and because, as a result, has a tendency to raise the eyebrows of anyone in the vicinity. That often had the potential to be a damn funny sight, depending on who was around and how colourful his little elf’s language got.
He goes over their ground rules again. She knows them, and he knows she knows them, but he never wants her to feel unsafe or coerced. He tells her to say the watchword. He keeps her eyes on her lips, on the Dalish markings that occupy a small part of them, as they open and then jut out to give the syllables life.
“Katoh.” The hunger in her voice is tangible.
“Good.”
“Before we start,” she says, raising up her hands to halt his advance, “I wanted to try… something different.”
“You’re blushing. Oh, I have to hear this.”
“I am not!” Her fist finds its way into his side instantaneously, probably without forethought, and she shakes her head. “Forget it. You’d think it’s weird.”
He makes a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Trust me, I’m sure I’ve been asked to do weirder shit. I’ll bet you five sovereigns you can’t make the Iron Bull blush.”
“I want you to get me with child.” The words fall out as soon as he stops talking and are stoppered just as quickly. She tightens up every muscle in her face, as if bracing for impact.
“Interesting.” And it is, actually. “You still owe me though.”
Ellana groans. “Just pretend I didn’t say that just now. Please.”
“I could do that, if you want,” he tells her, at a slow, even pace. “Or I could do what you actually want.”
She raises her eyes up to him, a bit of the torment smoothing out from her features. “You would?”
“Whatever gets your blood pumping, Kadan. I just hope you realize that I can’t exactly do what that little elf body of yours craves.” And he is sure of that, never having seen any other result between a Qunari and an elf (or a human or a dwarf, for that matter) tumbling through the sheets other than a good time and messy sheets.
“I know, of course, and that’s not what I want, I think.” Her voice regains some of its usual confidence as she works out her thoughts aloud. “I just… like the idea, I suppose. I’m not even sure what this would entail, actually.”
He steps forward, fencing her in close to the wall. “Why don’t we just see where we can go with this?”
She takes a breath in, preparing herself for what’s to come, whatever it is. “I’m ready.”
And without further delay, he lifts her up and drives her body tight between his and the stone, forcing an excited gasp out of her lungs. His enormous hands form a sturdy seat for her ass, supporting her as she tries to encircle his waist with her legs, too short for her feet to even meet each other. Her bare heels dig into the rough skin of his back and her arms wrap around a neck that rivals her own waist in breadth, holding him as possessively as she is able to. The warmth between her thighs grinds greedily against his steadily-swelling cock. She’s getting bold, trying to take some measure of control. She may just be prodding him to put her in her place, but regardless, that’s what he’ll do.
He moves his hand, for one is sufficient to keep her steady, and sunders through the middle of her shirt with his fingers, having no regard for the garment’s fasteners, one of which falls to the ground with a metallic clink. He shoves that hand beneath her sheer undershirt, cupping the whole of her breast with almost comical ease, rasping over the stiff nub with his thumb.
“What do you want?” he growls.
She closes her eyes. “I want—”
Ellana winces at her nipple being pinched between his massive digits, crying out at the sting. “Look at me when I talk to you,” he commands. She does, locking her two bright blue eyes with his one of grey. “There. What do you want?”
“I want you to fuck me, over and over again, until,” she falters, eyelashes fluttering away from his sight as her head turns.
He punishes her for that, gripping her tit hard again, and then removing his hand from under her clothing to take ahold of her neck, forcing her to look forward. He needs to hear her say it. “Until what?”
The elf swallows, and he feels the muscles of her throat ripple beneath his palm. She then speaks slowly, but clearly, to him. “Until your baby is in my belly.”
His cock throbs at the words, at the longing way she says them. Huh. Maybe he could really get into this.
He kisses her with all the force of a raging storm, battering down the gates of her mouth with his deft tongue, piercing the soft flesh of her lips with his teeth, biting and tugging until he feels her moans on his face and he knows he’s leaving marks so the whole damn world would know that she is his. And, fuck, that image she conjured in his head would be one hell of a mark to show off — it drives him to such an intense madness that he has to calm himself, and remind himself just who’s in charge here.
Squeezing her against him with his hefty arms, his tongue buried in her mouth, he lumbers backwards, crashing down on one of her sofas with her straddling his lap. Ellana’s clothes are all but ripped off then, her pants and smallclothes voraciously and sloppily peeled off from her skin and tossed aside. One hand reaches around to squeeze at her haunches, the other slips between her legs and teases her wet folds — and fuck are they wet; how long she must have been thinking of him, thinking of this, imagining his seed taking hold inside of her. His prick aches for being inside of his pants instead of inside of her cunt, but he must prime her to take him, and make her ache in anticipation as much as he is now.
He thrusts one finger inside of her, and a second soon after. She accepts them so masterfully, so much more easily than she used to. Her breathing comes to take on the rhythm of his fingers, and then struggles to keep any rhythm at all when his fingers curve inwards and his thumb traces circles around her clit.
“You’re fucking drenched for me,” he rasps, merely stating fact, as he quickens his pace. “You want it. Tell me how much you want it.”
“There is nothing I want more,” she says, the cadence and pitch of her voice fluctuating as he prods at her, “than becoming full with your child. And then everyone will know that I. Ride. The. Bull.”
Fuck. Whether she knows it or not, she’s driving him absolutely fucking mad. A voice rattling in the back of his skull convinces him that he’s coaxed her more than enough, true or not. He removes his fingers from within her and tosses her scanty form around, binding her against him with his hands, her back sinking into his hefty torso. His cock, finally freed, slides through her slick thighs and against her slit, only for a moment, before he guides the engorged head inside, stretching her even further than with those two fingers. A jittery gasp escapes her mouth, and he knows that her brow gnarls and her lips purse at the size of him, even as she faces away. He leans back into the sofa, taking her with him, so she can see him sheathe himself up to the hilt in her — oh, the delight he takes in having her watch just how much of him she can fit in her. He takes ahold of her from behind one knee, obtaining more control over the angle and depth of his penetration, and gropes at the front of her body with his hand, still wet with her own juices.
At his first sight of Ellana, soaked in the torrents of the Storm Coast, he didn’t see much that appealed to his tastes, and for that, he looks back at himself with shame. The entirety of her tiny, naked body entices him: her flat-as-a-board stomach, her small, perky breasts, and even her bony ass can easily get him hard by virtue of being part of this badass woman who could ignite her foes and send airborne dragons hurtling into the ground by freezing their wings solid. But as he indulges himself with everything so small about her, he pictures it: her middle growing round with their half-breed, her tits swollen with milk, maybe her legs and arms putting on some meat in the process — and all because of him. All because of the Iron Bull. All because of what he was doing to her right now.
Fuck. Now he’s just doing it to himself.
“You’re going to get fat with my seed,” he grunts, ramming his length back into her as his palm envelops her empty belly. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes,” she moans, breathless. “Yes.”
“And I’ll keep you like that, again and again, always with my child.”
Her thin fingers skulk their way down to her groin, finding but a moment of refuge between her folds before being yanked away, a massive hand throttling her wrist.
“Not yet,” he orders. “Not until you’ve earned it.”
She bows with some reluctance to his will, knowing deep down that the increasing need will only make the eventual release so much greater. He fucks her hard, without reservation, putting so much weight behind each thrust that her entire body bounces up with him. Her voice carries, heavy with moans and cusses and just the right amount of pain to make the pleasure stand out against it, setting every sense afire, alive. His climax mounting to the point of no return, it takes all of his power to not crush her wrist with his fist as he drives the whole of his cock inside of her one last time, and comes, filling her with what she desires, groaning huskily in her ear. He pants, though not as loudly as her, and releases his grip, letting her know that she’s earned the right.
And her hand shoots straight for her clit, desperately stroking at herself to untie the knots he set in her, to reach her own sweet release. Bull remains inside of her dripping slit, still quite large even as he wanes, and touches every part of her that would bring her closer — her breasts, the inside of her thighs, the nape of her neck, her abdomen, just below the navel. It’s not long before her breaths become sharp and short. At last, her hips convulse, and everything that was once tight unwinds in a blissful instant. She recedes into soft pants, the only noise breaking the room’s silence, and he removes himself from her, settling her down on her back, legs atop his lap.
“See, was that really so hard?” he asks, receiving only a satisfied smirk in return, as she’s certainly still tumbling down from her heights. He reaches over, taking ahold of and massaging her wrist with his thumb. “Need me to do anything for you, Kadan? Does anything hurt?”
“Not more than I can manage,” she tells him, regaining her ability to form a sentence without gasping for air. Bull thinks she sees her blush, but her face is already so red from the act that it’s hard to tell. “You actually enjoyed that, didn’t you?”
“More than I expected to, at least.” He places her hand on top of her abdomen, then sinks his into the backrest and sighs. “Slaying dragons, sealing rifts that shit out demons, bringing out new sexual fetishes in others — is there anything you can’t do?”
“I’ve yet to find a reliable way to communicate with nugs, but I’m still young.”
A roar of a laugh fills the room. He loves her more than he knows how to put in words, so he gives her touches, hard when she needs them to be, soft when she needs them even more.
Later, they speak at length about what had transpired that night, and agree to work Ellana’s fantasy (and Bull’s, more and more) into their role play grab bag. It doesn’t take long for the kink to weave its way into all of their encounters; even when she’s bound or spanked or deprived of her sight and hearing, getting her pregnant becomes the cornerstone upon which all their sexual activity builds upon. Even despite its impossibility, the idea fails to lose its novelty or its appeal, as illustrated by the constant noise, and Bull’s constant oaths to give her a child, reverberating out of the Inquisitor’s quarters, night after night.
And then, as time passes, something begins to change. Ellana becomes faint and nauseous at times, her breasts become so tender that she has to use her watchword to direct him away for them, her clothes start to feel a bit tighter, and her courses, as unpredictable as they can be for her, cease completely.
And the fantasy becomes more real than they ever thought possible.