Wardrobe Malfunction
Jun. 23rd, 2010 01:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dalishstormOriginal prompt: Any pairing, preferably slash
Two lovers are in their tent, totally hot for each other, but taking off all that armor proves very difficult and unsexy. By the time they actually get naked the mood has been killed, and they end up just chilling and discussing darkspawn killing techniques or something.
--------------------
Their first moments of privacy in more than a week came when Bhelen offered them rooms in the palace to recover from their trek through the Deep Roads. Indeed, they hadn't even paused to rest, but gone straight to the council with Caridin's crown and their choice. They were standing in an otherwise empty hall outside the room meant for the Warden, hesitating, uncertain of what to do—torn between going their separate ways for much-needed rest or taking advantage of the situation.
Cadryn came to a decision first, and when Zevran opened his mouth to bid the Warden goodnight Cadryn covered it with his own, an almost forceful, lust-driven kiss. Not hard and bruising or claiming, but certainly stronger than the Warden's usual tender manner. Now, when Cadryn gripped his shoulders and pressed him against the wall, that was truly surprising, and Cadryn trailing one hand down to grip his hip, fingers twitching in a grip just hard enough to really feel it through the leather armor, pulled a lusty gasp from Zevran's throat, a sound half-voiced into the kiss. Zevran almost forgot to respond, shocked by the normally reserved Warden's unabashed desire.
When he did, it was to return the kiss with equal fervor, to gather together a handful each of the Warden's robes where they were tighter across the chest, pulling him closer. Cadryn obliged with a little grunt, and ended up having to bend his knees slightly to maintain the kiss, one of them ended up sliding between Zevran's thighs, and Cadryn had to shift his off hand from Zevran's shoulder to the wall in order to take his weight and maintain balance. The position was doubly awkward between the restrictive cut of Cadryn's robes and Zevran's now cumbersome armor, so Cadryn pulled away, whispered in Zevran's ear, “I want you,” hot breath making Zevran strain toward the promise of his touch imperceptibly. And just who was supposed to be the master of seduction here?
The belts of Zevran's baldric fell away as soon as they were through the door, weapons cast aside with less care than they deserved, and the belts at Cadryn's waist and the harness for his staff met a similar fate, clattering down in a heap. They didn't make it far from the door before Zevran caught Cadryn's face between his hands, pulled him down for another kiss, teasing the Warden's bottom lip with a gentle, sucking and biting playfully as if a promise of things to come. It earned an appreciative sound out of the man, who tangled a hand in Zevran's hair for a moment before he went searching for all the little buckles and ties to Zevran's armor.
They'd been in the Deep Roads for nearly a week, beset on all sides by Darkspawn and smaller, more annoying creatures, hardly able to sleep properly, and there had been precious little time to care for his armor properly. So the first buckle took two hands, the leather creaking under new stress. Zevran peeled back the collar of Cadryn's robe and ran his fingers across the sensitive flesh there at the base of the human's throat before attacking it, teasing in the same fashion as he had the man's lips. He took Cadryn's behavior as leave to be a little rougher than usual, made an effort to leave a little mark that would just be visible over the edge of the collar.
Cadryn swore when the next buckle finally gave, then muttered with no small amount of dark humor, “You know, your armor is covered in a very fine layer of lyrium dust. Like you rolled in it.”
Pulling away to nuzzle at the growing mark on Cadryn's skin, Zevran asked, “Should that concern me?”
“It's not enough to worry about.” And he swore again as a tie finally parted, then moved on to another buckle. Zevran's hands wandered down to the lacing on Cadryn's robe and began working at the knots, found the knots tight and the lacing hard and slick, as if worn by overuse. It took more attention than he would've liked, and eventually all of his attention, until the two of them were standing there in frustration and waning lust, picking and tugging at the infuriating impediments to taking their desire out on one another. Cadryn swore again, something colorful involving Andraste's mother, and the fabric and flesh beneath Zevran's fingers flickered momentarily, fading to insubstantial mist, and Zevran felt part of himself pulled along as Cadryn slipped half into the Fade to exert his real strength against an exceptionally stubborn buckle.
Cadryn succeeded first, though Zevran playfully told him, “Using magic is cheating,” trying to lighten the foul mood growing between them.
“I'd do worse things to get you out of this stuff faster,” Cadryn growled, and the last buckle came loose, Cadryn carefully pulling the armor away, which left Zevran in the padding underneath. Cadryn made an exasperated noise, somewhere low in his throat. “And I was just getting excited.”
Finally giving in, Zevran stepped away from the mage, shucking out of the padding and his small clothes as he retrieved a dagger. “This seems the only way, my friend.”
“I'm beyond caring any more,” and Cadryn held out his arms low to the sides, exposing the complex lacing. Zevran split the ties easily with the dagger, which clattered to the floor in favor of running his hands over the faintly golden skin revealed as he pushed the robes away.
They tumbled into the bed, a flurry of kisses and nips, enthusiasm renewed, but each carried a sluggishness to his motions, a weariness. An nothing, it seemed, could fully restore either of them to hardness, too worn and weary by this point.
So they abandoned mutual pleasure by unspoken agreement, simply stared at each other for a moment, each with his head propped against the others thigh (and how lovely this would have been, Zevran thought, to catch snatches and glimpses of Cadryn eagerly working him with his mouth as Zevran did the same).
“I hate this place,” Cadryn eventually said.
“Agreed. Let us never return, if we can help it.”
Nuzzling at the flesh of Zevran's inner thigh, laying a delicate kiss with the faintest swirl of his tongue, got an appreciative moan, a twitch, but nothing else, so Cadryn said, “In the morning.”
“Yes. In the morning.”
Passing the night in each others arms was well enough, at least, and Zevran was too tired to even to worry over the implications of his growing regard for the Warden, as usually happened with such intimacy.
~*~Zevran stretched languidly, reveling in the relief, the intense sense of comfort from a good night's sleep (he slept better in Cadryn's arms than he'd ever slept, which was still disconcerting) and shared release with an eager lover. He didn't allow himself these indulgences much, this wallowing in the afterglow, but Zevran felt he'd earned it, and his eyes slid over Cadryn's form approvingly as the man's weight slipped from the bed.
He could get used to this, quite easily.
When Cadryn swore, Zevran sat up, propping himself up on his elbows to see the mage standing with his robes in hand, plucking the shredded laces out.
"I didn't bring a spare," the Warden announced, "and am an idiot."
Two lovers are in their tent, totally hot for each other, but taking off all that armor proves very difficult and unsexy. By the time they actually get naked the mood has been killed, and they end up just chilling and discussing darkspawn killing techniques or something.
--------------------
Their first moments of privacy in more than a week came when Bhelen offered them rooms in the palace to recover from their trek through the Deep Roads. Indeed, they hadn't even paused to rest, but gone straight to the council with Caridin's crown and their choice. They were standing in an otherwise empty hall outside the room meant for the Warden, hesitating, uncertain of what to do—torn between going their separate ways for much-needed rest or taking advantage of the situation.
Cadryn came to a decision first, and when Zevran opened his mouth to bid the Warden goodnight Cadryn covered it with his own, an almost forceful, lust-driven kiss. Not hard and bruising or claiming, but certainly stronger than the Warden's usual tender manner. Now, when Cadryn gripped his shoulders and pressed him against the wall, that was truly surprising, and Cadryn trailing one hand down to grip his hip, fingers twitching in a grip just hard enough to really feel it through the leather armor, pulled a lusty gasp from Zevran's throat, a sound half-voiced into the kiss. Zevran almost forgot to respond, shocked by the normally reserved Warden's unabashed desire.
When he did, it was to return the kiss with equal fervor, to gather together a handful each of the Warden's robes where they were tighter across the chest, pulling him closer. Cadryn obliged with a little grunt, and ended up having to bend his knees slightly to maintain the kiss, one of them ended up sliding between Zevran's thighs, and Cadryn had to shift his off hand from Zevran's shoulder to the wall in order to take his weight and maintain balance. The position was doubly awkward between the restrictive cut of Cadryn's robes and Zevran's now cumbersome armor, so Cadryn pulled away, whispered in Zevran's ear, “I want you,” hot breath making Zevran strain toward the promise of his touch imperceptibly. And just who was supposed to be the master of seduction here?
The belts of Zevran's baldric fell away as soon as they were through the door, weapons cast aside with less care than they deserved, and the belts at Cadryn's waist and the harness for his staff met a similar fate, clattering down in a heap. They didn't make it far from the door before Zevran caught Cadryn's face between his hands, pulled him down for another kiss, teasing the Warden's bottom lip with a gentle, sucking and biting playfully as if a promise of things to come. It earned an appreciative sound out of the man, who tangled a hand in Zevran's hair for a moment before he went searching for all the little buckles and ties to Zevran's armor.
They'd been in the Deep Roads for nearly a week, beset on all sides by Darkspawn and smaller, more annoying creatures, hardly able to sleep properly, and there had been precious little time to care for his armor properly. So the first buckle took two hands, the leather creaking under new stress. Zevran peeled back the collar of Cadryn's robe and ran his fingers across the sensitive flesh there at the base of the human's throat before attacking it, teasing in the same fashion as he had the man's lips. He took Cadryn's behavior as leave to be a little rougher than usual, made an effort to leave a little mark that would just be visible over the edge of the collar.
Cadryn swore when the next buckle finally gave, then muttered with no small amount of dark humor, “You know, your armor is covered in a very fine layer of lyrium dust. Like you rolled in it.”
Pulling away to nuzzle at the growing mark on Cadryn's skin, Zevran asked, “Should that concern me?”
“It's not enough to worry about.” And he swore again as a tie finally parted, then moved on to another buckle. Zevran's hands wandered down to the lacing on Cadryn's robe and began working at the knots, found the knots tight and the lacing hard and slick, as if worn by overuse. It took more attention than he would've liked, and eventually all of his attention, until the two of them were standing there in frustration and waning lust, picking and tugging at the infuriating impediments to taking their desire out on one another. Cadryn swore again, something colorful involving Andraste's mother, and the fabric and flesh beneath Zevran's fingers flickered momentarily, fading to insubstantial mist, and Zevran felt part of himself pulled along as Cadryn slipped half into the Fade to exert his real strength against an exceptionally stubborn buckle.
Cadryn succeeded first, though Zevran playfully told him, “Using magic is cheating,” trying to lighten the foul mood growing between them.
“I'd do worse things to get you out of this stuff faster,” Cadryn growled, and the last buckle came loose, Cadryn carefully pulling the armor away, which left Zevran in the padding underneath. Cadryn made an exasperated noise, somewhere low in his throat. “And I was just getting excited.”
Finally giving in, Zevran stepped away from the mage, shucking out of the padding and his small clothes as he retrieved a dagger. “This seems the only way, my friend.”
“I'm beyond caring any more,” and Cadryn held out his arms low to the sides, exposing the complex lacing. Zevran split the ties easily with the dagger, which clattered to the floor in favor of running his hands over the faintly golden skin revealed as he pushed the robes away.
They tumbled into the bed, a flurry of kisses and nips, enthusiasm renewed, but each carried a sluggishness to his motions, a weariness. An nothing, it seemed, could fully restore either of them to hardness, too worn and weary by this point.
So they abandoned mutual pleasure by unspoken agreement, simply stared at each other for a moment, each with his head propped against the others thigh (and how lovely this would have been, Zevran thought, to catch snatches and glimpses of Cadryn eagerly working him with his mouth as Zevran did the same).
“I hate this place,” Cadryn eventually said.
“Agreed. Let us never return, if we can help it.”
Nuzzling at the flesh of Zevran's inner thigh, laying a delicate kiss with the faintest swirl of his tongue, got an appreciative moan, a twitch, but nothing else, so Cadryn said, “In the morning.”
“Yes. In the morning.”
Passing the night in each others arms was well enough, at least, and Zevran was too tired to even to worry over the implications of his growing regard for the Warden, as usually happened with such intimacy.
~*~
He could get used to this, quite easily.
When Cadryn swore, Zevran sat up, propping himself up on his elbows to see the mage standing with his robes in hand, plucking the shredded laces out.
"I didn't bring a spare," the Warden announced, "and am an idiot."
