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It was raining again.
The soft patter of water, muffled through the skins of the tent stirred Rythlen awake, her hand seeking the warmth of her husband’s back under the blanket but he wasn’t where he was supposed to be. She blinked the sleepiness away and stared out from her cot, the coolness of the wind cutting through the small gap at the entrance of their tent. She pondered how much longer it would take for it to clear up before glaring at the flaps that let more cool air inside. She stood up quietly, pulled on her white cotton shirt, comfortable leather trousers and ignored her footwear before stepping out into the cool crisp air of autumn.
She quickly glanced around the wooded area to look for where Alistair had gone – she noticed how the rain was unusually warm considering the time of year but the chill was still there. Rythlen thought to go back for her water proof cloak but noticed her lover near the edge of their camp and decided against it.
“Alistair?” Her voice was muffled through the rain but the Warden-King heard her clear as day. He gazed over his shoulder as he leaned against the tree to watch her approach. She was beautiful. He was dumb-struck by her simple elegance, even in this – she captivated his attention with the way she was trying to keep the water out of her eyes with a hand. She was failing miserably, he might add.
“Finally braving the rain?” he asked, his voice full of mirth. He hadn’t been out here long but the rain was heavy enough to have found every nook and cranny to soak him. The air was cool, typical for this time of the year but the rain was warmer than normal – quite unusual. He was sure his wife would disagree with his observations – she loved the rain, loved the crisp air of the woods. He’d heard her speak of it often, with fondness of the memories.
Rythlen smiled and he wondered if she was reading his mind. “I was actually wondering why you braved it. I, on the other hand, was merely tracking a stubborn warden. It’s freezing out here – why did you come out of bed?” She asked, stopping next to him. She wrapped her arms around herself for a bit of warmth, regretting her decision to forego the waterproof cape. Alistair smiled at the sight. Her long black hair fluttered a bit in the breeze, her cheeks pink from the weather and her eyes seem to sparkle in the early morning light.
“In my opinion, it’s less like a bed and more like… a wet hammock.” He nodded to himself, and Rythlen rolled her eyes.
“We’ve slept in worst, during the blight.” She reiterated and Alistair had to agree. There was that one time… well, he’d rather not think about it. His eyes wandered down her figure.
“We’re not in the Blight any longer and to answer your question, my devious plan was to see how long it would take you to wander out in the rain.”
“How is that a devious plan?” She laughed at his expression, his slow grin made it hard to keep serious.
“I would time how long it would take for your shirt to become see-through.” He wiggled his brows. Rythlen looked down, confused at first and noticed the large wet patches forming over the front of her shirt.
“For the love of Andraste, honestly!” She would have sounded indignant if it weren’t for her laughter lacing every word.
“I see you decided not to wear your… under-things.” He pointed out and sounded quite pleased with himself. Rythlen blushed a deeper shade and Alistair was taken aback again. He loved that particular colour on her.
“I’m serious.” She sighed the words and he detected a hint of worry. Alistair felt a little guilty – he didn’t mean to worry her, he just wanted to watch the rain and feel it against his skin. The palace in Denerim was suffocating at times and it was rare they were allowed any alone time lately. There was always an interruption of sorts, it never failed.
“I know, I’m sorry.” He looked at her sheepishly. “I just wanted to enjoy the quiet.” He added but it didn’t help Rythlen. She still looked puzzled, a delicate brow raising higher.
Her gaze moved from Alistair to the woods and she hummed her understanding. They were surrounded by the wilderness and before now, she hadn’t really paid attention to the complete isolation the woods offered them. For a brief instant, she understood entirely his meaning and a subtle sense of relief overcame her. They were in their own little world out here. She closed her eyes, listening to the rain fall against the waterproofed leather of their tents, the sound of leaves rustling in the wind high above them and it made her smile.
“You’re right, it’s… peaceful, here.”
Alistair held his breath and stared at her, sure his mouth was agape at the sight; Rythlen opened her eyes and turned towards him, her cheeks glowing with a faint blush. She watched him step closer and move around to her back with his arms wide, inviting her and she accepted. They wrapped around her and she shivered a little while he pressed his chest against her back, relishing at the sensation of his warmth surrounding her.
“You are positively freezing.” He whispered, his nose nuzzling her temple. His lips brushed her skin and she noticed that he wasn’t any warmer.
“I wonder who’s fault that is.” She smirked when his cold fingers slid down to her hip to find the edge of her shirt. Alistair burst out laughing when she squirmed under his touch – he was eager to warm his hands against her skin.
“Maker’s breath, Alistair!” Rythlen gasped heavily, eyes wide with shock.
“Is that… Is that too cold? I’m so very sorry.” He grinned and tried to muffle his laughter. Needless to say, she doubted his apology – he nuzzled her again and she relaxed against his touch.
“You’re not sorry at all.” She sighed, leaning into him.
“No,” he murmured as he kissed her cheek. His hands traveled under her shirt and up her sides. It was soaked through. Water dripped down her nose and temples; Alistair kissed the trails, his tongue quickly tasting her as he sought her mouth with his, though he couldn’t quite reach. The angle was terribly awkward but he still tried and it made her laugh, the sound warming him to the core.
“Are you looking for something?” Rythlen murmured softly, teasingly. Alistair nodded gently, she could feel his smile against her skin. She turned her head towards his to finally let their lips meet. Her nostril flared slightly as she breathed him in. He hummed in approval – the sound sending a thrill of excitement through her core.
She felt Alistair’s hands trail up her belly to her breasts and he gently squeezed one, the nipple already perking from his touch and the rain. Rythlen deepened the kiss, seeking his warmth but Alistair pulled back enough to hear her whine softly in a complaint, his nose sliding against her cheek as he kissed the edge of her ear. He nibbled the lobe tenderly, his wife shivered but not from the cold. He made his way down the side of her neck, sensing her move her head to give him more room - he warmed his lips along the way until he reached the apex of her shoulder. Alistair pushed the material aside with one hand, exposing her shoulder and kissed the length of it, slowly.
“Did… did you ever…” She started but the words muddled as his tongue found her pulse point and his lips teased the skin.
“Lick a lamppost in winter?” He mused, chuckling. “I think we already had this conversation – about… ten years ago.” His teeth scrapped against her with every word, eliciting a moan that stirred something deep inside him.
“That’s… that’s not what I… oh Maker.” Her hands flew up to his head, fingers tangling in his wet hair as he opened his mouth and sucked on the skin, the tip of his tongue swirling to make her arch into him. His hands slid to her chest, he squeezed her breasts just enough to feel her nipples tickling the palm of his hands. She gasped at the sensation and he peeked down at her face to find her eyes closed, her lips a deep pink, tinted with her arousal.
Alistair rolled his hips forward, getting hard inside the leather of his trousers. Both of his hands slid down her stomach under her shirt and he found the edge of her pants, grasping the leather. His mouth was still busy kissing her skin and Rythlen wriggled under his ministrations as he loosened the leather straps. Rythlen hand’s tugged at his hair, slipping over his ears and neck – she squeezed at his nape, her cold fingers making Alistair take in a quick breath of surprise.
“Cold!” He gasped against her shoulder and Rythlen smirked.
“Revenge is a dish…” she started but he slipped one hand under the damp leather of her trousers to interrupt her. Cold fingers found her smalls and he found that they were also wet from the rain – delightfully as they hugged the curves and folds of her vaginal lips but she squirmed under his touch, the digits not warmed at all.
Alistair moaned, whispering best served cold in her ear. The sound coming from his throat was wanton, low and raspy. She leaned back, her head rolling against his shoulder and Alistair took the chance to dip his hand further down – fingertips following her clothed slit to press lightly against her clit in tiny steady circles. His other hands moved back up towards her breasts, pulling the shirt upwards and exposing her openly to the air.
Goosebumps chased his touch, the breeze mixing with rain and she wasn’t sure if she was cold or aroused as she shivered under his touch. His teeth grazed her shoulder, her neck – he whispered her name between tender nips of the shell of her ear.
Maker. Maker.
She whispered the words as Alistair’s hand moved expertly between her legs – slow, soft, tender. Urgent. Rythlen’s knees bent as she wriggled, she clung to him as his fingers found the edge of her smalls and dipped under the fabric. He touched her so tenderly… Her warmth made him groan and she gasped at the sensation.
The rain was relentless, seeping through their clothing. The cotton was sticky and uncomfortable – her hair felt heavy with water but she overlooked it, all she could feel was Alistair against her, his lips, his touch… She turned in his arms, her mouth suddenly against his in a desperate kiss. Alistair moaned, lips and tongue swirling and colliding in the haste of the embrace. He pulled her close to him, his hips rolling against her again, this time there was purpose behind the act and Rythlen hummed her approval. He turned with her, gently pressing his wife against the tree. She couldn’t focus anymore, all she could feel was the bark against her back, his mouth and touch…The warmth of him…
His hand slid down against her thigh and the other found the loose ties to her trousers, unlacing them further with ease – his mouth still busy with her neck, her chin and now her lips. He kissed her slowly as his thigh slipped between hers to settle against her sex and she rolled her hips, making him groan softly into her mouth. She grinned, doing it once more. Alistair broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against hers before squeezing his eyes shut.
“Rythlen.”
He spoke her name like a prayer.
He tugged down her trousers, over the hump of her bottom, exposing her smalls to him and she grew restless, tugging his hair slightly only to slide her hands down his temples to hold his face there, close to hers. Her eyes met with his, he searched them – he seemed undecided, which filled her with nervous energy.
“Too exposed?” She asked, her lips brushing against his, encouraging him. She could see his jaw flex as she pulled his face to hers and kissed him again – mouth wide with need, sloppy kisses that distracted from his thoughts. He broke the connection, a soft laugh between them that made her smile.
“Well, I was considering going into the tent, only to keep us warm, but I’m burning up as it is.”
Rythlen laughed, and it melted into a moan when Alistair kissed down her neck, nipped the pulse-point again and dropped to his knees. He pushed away the wet shirt, upwards, fisting the material before kissing her navel, licking and suckling the skin up to her ribs.
She let out a puff of breath, white against the cold air – the rain still fell upon them and she looked up to see that the tree he chose had no leaves. He found her hips, teeth nipping the skin mercilessly as his free hand tugged down her trousers further down her thighs. He let his cheek rub slightly against the edge of the bone, his scruff tickled and ached at the same time. Alistair heard his wife let her head fall back against the tree.
He spoke her name, nibbled the skin so softly it made her buck her hips and arch her back. She let go of him and reached high above her head to find something to grab, something to perch herself against so she could stand but Alistair only took advantage of this. He followed the line of her hip, her thigh – kissing softly, he followed the rain drops that slid down her skin, Rythlen felt her excitement ripple through and she smiled again, eyes fluttering close and whispered more encouraging words.
Her voice was but a whisper and Alistair smirked - this would not do. He moved across her belly, feeling the muscles clench under his ministration but he didn’t speed up, rather he slowed down even more. Alistair tugged at her trousers until they reached the ground and still he kissed her, he worshiped her. His hands moved back up to her bottom and he grasped it, tight enough to embed his nails – half moons marked the flesh and Rythlen shivered. His mouth moved downwards still… her rain soaked smalls hid nothing – he could see the outline of her and he dipped his mouth over the clothed slit to smooth the material, pressing harder to find…
“Here you are.” He mumbled, sighed the words.
Rythlen gasped, her eyes opening suddenly at the sensation of his lips pressing against her nub. He moved his tongue in small tight circles… just barely… just hard enough to make her senseless and light enough to make her crave his touch even more. Her sex pulsed with every light sensation. She let her thighs fall open a little further to give him more access, her grip slacked as she slid down the trunk in an attempt to press him closer and Alistair gave in, pressing his mouth harder against her while she rolled her hips quicker. Her voice was getting higher, breathless and staccato in her vocalisation of lust.
He frowned, losing his rhythm in her warmth, in her scent and he moaned again, this time letting his voice vibrate against her sex. She squeezed her thighs and Alistair stopped his ministrations long enough to slip his hands around her hips to pull down her smalls swiftly. They pooled at her feet and Rythlen felt his grip tighten around her as he stood back up. Dazed, she watched his eyes twinkle in delight while she huffed out a sigh.
“Eager?” he asked her, water slid down his temples, his nose – his brows. He looked beautiful in the rain. She nodded and his mouth was against hers, kissing her gently, hurriedly. Her hands tugged and pulled at his shirt but the dampness made everything difficult. She felt cool and hot – she shivered against him, trembled at his touch and goosebumps pebbled her skin. The pads of her fingers could feel Alistair’s skin do the same under the cold rain as well but his skin was tinted pink with a blush.
She tugged harder at his shirt, buttons tearing and popping off in all direction and Alistair chuckled when Rythlen gasped in surprise at her own impatience. “I-I didn’t think…” She blurted out, embarrassed. Alistair silenced her with a kiss, she felt him shake his head before slipping his tongue back into her mouth. Another thrum of arousal weaved itself inside her. She needed to touch him, needed to reacquaint herself with the ripple of his tight muscles under her fingers, with his breath – with his voice. She needed it all and he was happy to give everything he had. He pulled her legs up around his hips – one of her hands slipped between them to untie his trousers while the other clung to him for leverage.
It was difficult – the water made everything slippery or unreasonably sticky. Alistair swatted the hand between them away, noticing that she was having trouble and she wrapped her hands behind his neck while he undid his ties. She could feel the warmth between them, anticipating. She kissed him again – mouth wide with need, she grabbed his lower lip between her teeth and bit down hard enough to make him groan. She felt his length slip free and nestle itself against her sex – he rolled his hips forward to tease the tip against her entrance and slid his shaft between her lips, slowly entering her. Rythlen let out a slow heavy breath as he took his time, inch by inch into her warm slickness.
Alistair.
Her voice was impatient and tender all at the same time. He didn’t know how she did that particular sound and it excited him every time. His name felt like liquid when she spoke it: warm, languid, enticing him to seek her pleasure. He grunted – quite pleased with himself.
She squeezed her thighs around his hips as he gradually picked up the pace between them, her heels kept digging into his backside, encouraging him – sending a tendril of pleasure up his spine with every move she made. He could feel one hand through his hair, tugging at his scalp. He held on to her behind, gripping the flesh as his brow knit in concentration – he was conscious of her back against the bark of the tree and tried not to press her too hard but Rythlen wouldn’t cooperate. She arched her back out towards the tree, trying to bury him deeper inside and it worked. He stopped moving for a second, he let out a whine of need and approval – losing himself in the sensation of her warmth, her invitation.
Alistair groaned – she rolled her hips with him, eager to get him closer than it was already possible. Alistair snapped his hips forward with every quickening thrust, making Rythlen press her head against the tree, she closed her eyes, enjoying herself. The bark dug into her heated skin, her nails pinched and scratched into Alistair’s skin. She could feel his breath against her neck – short, strong pants much like her own but his voice was rising with every ripple of pleasure they both sought.
“Ah, Ry-“ he could barely get the words out – her name anchored in his throat and all thoughts of what he wanted to say flew out of his mind when he heard her moan, felt her tense against him and her face scrunched up as pleasure flowed through her. He watched her for a moment before closing his eyes, he kissed her mouth while she tried to breathe through the wave that was consuming her and Alistair felt his own release chase her own. He muffled her name into her mouth as he came, clinging to her and felt himself spill into her.
Maker’s breath!
“Agreed.” Rythlen laughed when Alistair realised he uttered the words out loud.
“Well, uhm.“ He stammered, breathless – cold and wet. He tried to keep himself from shivering but he heard his teeth clatter as reality brought him back to Thedas. He gently let her down, checking her back with his hands to see if the bark had done anything to her. He wasn’t subtle and lost his footing a bit, trying to see if she was okay and keep her from the mud. Rythlen laughed as she spun around once to show him she was fine.
“To the tent, and back to bed?” He heard his wife suggest and when he looked at her face, her beautiful rain soaked smile – he noticed the inquisitive brow raised at his scrutiny. Alistair nodded, grinning at her.
“Your wish is my command.”
Rythlen blushed, his not-so-discreet love declaration from the early days of their courting slipped out and she felt flustered, breathless and giddy all over again. “Come, then.” She motioned to him with her long, graceful and calloused fingers to entice him back to the tent. He followed without being told twice.