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A sheet of night, glimmering star-like in the flickering glow of the fire. He’d never paid attention before to how long it was, but when pulled from the bun at the nape of his neck, his hair cascaded to the top of his shoulders in silky tendrils.
Like ink running across a sheet of vellum, Alistair mused idly.
It suited him. The Warden’s olive complexion and angular features were more prominent against the dark backdrop. Of course, the shadows cast by the flames only enhanced his chiseled jawline and noble nose.
He shared a laugh with Leliana, the rich tone booming around the clearing, and Alistair’s stomach somersaulted. From his vantage point he couldn’t see the man’s eyes, but he didn’t need to. Hazel green with flecks of gold, at once intense yet sincere. They had immediately captivated him upon meeting him and over the last few weeks that feeling in his gut loomed large in the other man’s presence.
The son of a Teryn, Zane Cousland had a noble lineage rivaling his own. Not that it did him much good, at the moment, with his brother missing and his ancestral lands usurped. As a Warden, Zane was incapable of holding a title, which meant the teyrnir was in danger of passing to another line.
Yet, as much as Zane worried for his brother, Fergus, he didn’t seem concerned about the rest. Which was part of his appeal. A man from one of the most powerful families in Ferelden who wasn’t power mad? It seemed so novel. But there he was.
Zane glanced across the fire at him, and Alistair shot him a weak smile before lowering his gaze. It wouldn’t be possible for the other man to feel the same. They shared a rapport, certainly. Borne of war and desperation after Ostagar rattled them both to the core.
Flashes of the battle played through his mind. Zane’s daggers whistling through the air, onyx droplets spinning in the torchlight, following the momentum of his blades. The man’s wicked taunts shouted across a chamber to distract their mindless foes from swarming Alistair.
They’d fought in the Wilds before the fateful battle and in countless skirmishes since, but in the warrior’s mind the memories of that night were coated in a patina of nostalgia. It was the night they fought as a team, boosting strengths and bolstering weaknesses, taking hits meant for each other as they clawed their way through the tower overrun with darkspawn.
Leliana regaled the others with a story Alistair knew well from a book of legends in the monastery library. A tale of ill-fated lovers and the woman’s trail of tears in the stars, hoping to one day reach her love in death. Wistful and romantic - it always tugged on his heartstrings when he read it growing up. Wondering if anyone would ever love him, at all, nevermind until death and beyond. Listening to Leliana’s bright voice turn mournful, a discordant melody unconsciously plucked from the lute in her lap was too much.
Standing abruptly on the far side of the campfire, Alistair spun on his heel and walked away. He didn’t even have a destination in mind; he simply couldn’t remain while his friend waxed eloquent on heartbreak tonight. It hit too damn close to home.
He wasn’t sure how far he’d wandered into the woods on the edge of the meadow, but his feet finally stopped. Leaning against the nearest tree with a heavy sigh, Alistair closed his eyes and tried to block out the words crooned in the warm firelight.
As their eyes met, he fell in love with her, and she with him… Yet, Alindra was high born, and her love nothing more than a common soldier.
Maker’s breath.
Pressing his palms to his eyes, he tried to stem the telltale prickle of saltwater. He was a warrior, damn it all! No longer a boy alone in his room, sniffling under the covers after being tossed aside and thrust in the Templars’ hands. No longer a teen jeered and ridiculed on the field for being a bastard, scouring pots and pans with sand in the kitchen until the abbey residents were asleep. He was a Grey Warden who understood the world demanded sacrifices paid in blood and sweat and tears for the fallen, but there wasn’t time for selfish ones.
“Pull yourself together, man. There’s a fucking war on,” he muttered.
“Yes, there is,” a deep voice answered close by. Too close.
Alistair froze, terrified of opening his eyes and discovering how close he was. He wasn’t sure he could handle it. Snorting in derision, he flippantly replied, “I forget I’m surrounded by rogues. Not one of you can walk like a normal person. Making noise or snapping a twig underfoot so you don’t scare people.”
Zane chuckled softly and merciful Andraste, he sounded nearer than before. Alistair could smell the spicy notes of his soap, a signature fragrance that lingered in his hair, a scented haze perfuming the surrounding air. He prayed the shadows of the forest kept the other man from noticing his trembling.
“I hope I didn’t actually scare you.”
“No, of course not,” Alistair retorted instantly, hoping his voice didn’t sound strangled with his heart lodged in his throat. A warm gust of air ghosted his cheek and he sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes still tightly shut though his hands fell to his sides, clutching the tree trunk for support.
“Then why are you shaking, Alistair, if you aren’t scared?” Zane asked quietly.
A nervous bark of laughter escaped him, and he swallowed hard. “Adrenaline. You startled me is all. I’ll burn it out of my system and be fine-”
The torrent of words instantly halted and his eyes popped open of their own accord when Zane cupped his face - gentle, tender, sweet. As though he cradled something precious he didn’t want to break. Alistair fell headlong into his verdant gaze, enraptured by his shy smile accentuated by a neat goatee, and the rapid pulse in the hollow of his throat.
“I’m scared, too,” Zane whispered. Yet even his hushed tone seemed too loud, jarring, in the absolute silence. It jangled disjointedly along Alistair’s nerves, rubbing them raw in the dark, but the confession warranted a response.
Gathering his courage, Alistair licked his dry lips and murmured, “What of?”
Zane’s elegant throat moved as he swallowed and Alistair barely restrained an embarrassing whine. “You.”
Golden-brown eyes widened, and Alistair struggled to speak. “Me? Why?” he squeaked, too dumbfounded to be mortified as his voice climbed an octave.
“Because I am fairly certain you are the soldier to my Alindra, but I’m not sure if you want to be. And I’m not sure if... I mean the same to you,” Zane breathed.
“Andraste...” Alistair croaked, bracing himself against the thick trunk to remain upright should his knees give out. “Zane, I-I -”
“I just need to know for sure, Alistair. Do you feel the same? Yes or no?”
Maker, Zane was so close he could count the individual metallic specks glimmering in his eyes. Entreating and warm, hope flared within them and his stomach unknotted slightly. Robbed of the ability to respond verbally, Alistair merely nodded, breathing harshly out of his nose. His eyes fluttered closed again when Zane thumbed ellipses on his cheeks. The unmistakable affection in the simple gesture cracked open his soul, laying it bare before the man caressing him in the dappled moonlight.
No one had ever, to his knowledge, touched him like this. With love and care in every stroke across his freckled skin. It spoke volumes - more than words alone, and combined with Zane’s admission, it was a balm for the scars on his heart. Alistair quaked harder as emotions that defied logic or names welled like a bubbling brook, threatening to overflow its banks and wash away what little dignity he had left.
Zane lightly rested his forehead against his and Alistair couldn’t contain his small gasp of surprise. “Do you need me to give you space?” he asked, a twinge of hurt edging his tone, wrenching Alistair from his stupor.
“No,” he hissed, his hands instinctively reaching for him, digging into the hard muscle of Zane’s waist. “Please, don’t go. I’m just…” the warrior struggled for the right word. Dazed. Speechless. Terrified. Undone. “Overwhelmed.”
He smiled kindly, further easing Alistair’s anxiety. “I understand. Is that why you left camp?”
Alistair sagged against the tree with a sigh. “I used to read that story in the abbey. I never told anyone, of course, but… I wanted to be that for someone. You know my background - I’ve never mattered to anyone until Duncan and as wonderful as that was, it wasn’t the same.”
“No, it’s not,” the rogue agreed.
Chuckling sadly, Zane said, “You know, my mother used to tell us the tale when my brother and I were younger, but being boys we didn’t put much stock in it. Until Fergus met Oriana and told my parents he was marrying for love. They would have allowed it regardless, since my parents did the same, though it didn’t hurt she came from a well-to-do Antivan family.”
Clearing his throat, his gaze drifted aside when he continued. “They hadn’t been married long when I overheard them whispering to each other one night in the study. They assumed themselves alone and I should have left as soon as I realized they wanted to be, but I stayed and listened.”
“What did they say?” Alistair asked softly. He was sure he could guess, but he didn’t want to interrupt Zane’s reminiscing of the family he lost. The intimacy of sharing such an inherently private moment with him while they confessed their own feelings in the cool night wasn’t lost on him.
Gold held green steady when he answered. “Fergus said, ‘You are my Alindra and I your soldier. I will remain at your side in this life and find you among the stars when we part.’ ” Alistair inhaled sharply at the romanticism of the claim, aware should Fergus yet live, he would have to seek his wife in the constellations when he returned home.
“Yeah,” Zane muttered. “Before it was merely embarrassing, but it cuts deeper now.”
“Zane -” Alistair started, but he shook his head to stop him.
“No, it’s alright,” he assured with a wan smile. “My point in all of that, however, is this: As a boy, I didn’t understand what my mother was talking about and when I realized I was more attracted to men than women, I believed romance to be out of my reach. Until you,” Zane stated.
“The moment I met you I liked you and we worked well together, whether fighting or solidifying our plans to build an army. I tried to put my crush aside and treat you simply as a brother-in-arms, but your warmth and your snarky humor and your laugh - Maker.” Zane shivered slightly and Alistair’s heart stopped beating, transfixed by his reaction to him. “You drew me in and as time passed, I fell for you, Alistair. Hard.”
“Sweet Andraste, Zane, why didn’t you say anything?” Alistair asked, his mind whirling and his chest tight with the admission.
“I wasn’t sure you felt the same and I know this is new for you. I didn’t want to push. I wanted it to be real,” he admitted nervously.
Alistair frowned to see a shadow of something in his captivating gaze. It took an extra moment to categorize, but his response was instant when he recognized it - fear. His hands flew to cup Zane’s face, the way he continued to hold his, thankful his tongue was loosed.
“It’s real, Zane. I have never felt anything like this. You are brilliant and strong in ways I will never be. I have so much respect and admiration for you and it grows daily. Fierce on the field, but full of kindness and grace,” he implored, his confidence increasing as the man’s eyes widened, perfect mouth round in surprise. “I fell for you ages ago, but you’re right, I don’t know what in the Void I’m doing. So I ran away instead of telling you and I shouldn’t have. I wish to the Maker I’d said something sooner because I’ve wanted you for so long.”
Zane’s gaze dipped to his lips and Alistair didn’t hesitate, diving in to claim his mouth and lay weeks of longing to rest. His arms automatically wrapped around the other man’s back to hold him upright, one hand cradling his head to adjust the angle for their height difference, both of them sighing into the embrace.
War and trauma, loneliness and pain faded away, Alistair’s full attention on the beautiful man in his arms. A man he never imagined would see him as anything more than a friend on the field. Yet, one who struggled with the same insecurities, somehow believing Alistair worth pursuing. It suffused him with sunlight. Warming and filling the cracks in his soul with something so magical, he never allowed himself to think he would be lucky enough to experience it.
Deepening the kiss, Alistair groaned shamelessly when Zane’s tongue slid alongside his. He tasted like the apples they had with dinner, but underneath it was just him. Instantly addicted, he tangled his hand in his lover’s sleek tresses, vaguely aware of Zane’s slender fingers tugging his shorter hair. A firm press in the curve of his back brought them completely flush and Alistair shivered with desire when their hardening lengths rubbed together.
Swollen lips traveled to his ear and panted, “We don’t have to -”
“Don’t you dare stop,” Alistair pleaded. “I don’t want to waste any more time with you, Zane. If you want to keep going, I won’t say no.”
“Thank the Maker,” his lover growled hungrily as he pushed him gently against the tree. Alistair’s breath hitched to see the green irises he loved blown to black, gasping when confident hands kneaded his ass, pulling a soft groan from Zane.
“Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are? How irresistible you are to me and how much I want you?” Zane ground through clenched teeth. Licking his lips, Alistair shook his head dumbly in reply and Zane’s lusty expression softened. “Then allow me to show you,” he breathed.
Lightning sparked along Alistair’s skin under his lover’s caresses when strong hands slid from his backside to his front. Zane slowly untied the laces of his breeches and Alistair’s mouth fell open when he dropped to his knees.
“Merciful Andraste,” he croaked amid his lover’s wicked chuckles in the gloom. Zane palmed his length while Alistair clung to the tree. He could barely make him out in the shadows staring at him with unbridled affection. Zane’s gaze never wavered as he freed his cock, anchoring him as a calloused hand that wasn’t his slowly pumped his length.
The silken touch of Zane’s tongue as he licked him from base to tip nearly knocked him flat. If not for the tree propping him up, he’d surely have collapsed, but Alistair didn’t have too long to consider much of anything when the rogue on the ground swallowed his cock. Swearing impressively, his talented lover moaned in appreciation around him and Alistair focused on not thrusting in his mouth to chase the sinfully delicious sensations.
It was so much better than he ever imagined it would be, enhanced by the eroticism of watching the man he’d fallen for kneeling in reverence on the loamy ground. Tugging, licking, sucking, even placing chaste kisses along his length at random. All for him. Showering Alistair with love and attention, dedicated to his pleasure because he wanted to be, because he desired him.
Not as Alistair the charity case, or Alistair the bastard prince, or worse, the political pawn. As Alistair, the warrior and Grey Warden. Zane knew him as no one else did and still wanted him. His chest swelled with devotion for the perfect man working him into a frenzy.
Sliding his fingers through the rogue’s luxurious hair, he whispered urgently, “Zane, love… not gonna last.”
Dipping his head, Zane suckled his balls and tugged on his shaft, peppering his groin with open-mouthed kisses. “Don’t hold back. I want to watch you come apart, Alistair. To see how handsome you are when you let go.”
Panting harshly, he replied, “Shit, keep saying things like that and I won’t last another second.”
Zane smirked. “Is that a challenge?”
“Maker’s breath, you’ll be... the death of me. I c-can already tell,” Alistair valiantly replied as his lover’s mouth wrapped around him. True to his word, he caved to the overwhelming physical and emotional euphoria almost instantly. His grip in raven locks tightened unconsciously as he came, thrusting his hips with a guttural groan of Zane’s name, slamming his head against the tree and babbling incoherently through the aftershocks.
He shivered in response to the faint brush of fingertips trailing across his cheek. When he opened his eyes, Alistair curiously noted Zane’s glistening with tears. “You alright? I feel like I’m the one who should be a wreck after that,” he rasped, a weak huff meant to be a chuckle tumbling past dry lips.
“Say it again,” Zane breathed, causing Alistair’s own lungs to falter.
Oh, fuck. Had he said it out loud? The secret words Alistair carried in his heart for months. Words he’d never spoken to another living person. Words no one had ever said to him. A phrase he longed to hear and say his entire life. And all it took for them to spill so easily from his lips was the wonderful, giving man in front of him. Though - they’d all but said them in the refuge of the dark and Alistair could freely admit he wasn't sorry for the slip. Not when he saw how much they meant to Zane, too.
“I love you, Zane,” he whispered with a timid smile. “I have for a while.”
Lips crashed against his own and Alistair welcomed them with relish, tasting himself on Zane’s tongue and suddenly desperate to return to favor. With a low growl, Alistair grabbed him by the arms and switched their positions with ease. Zane groaned with the dominant role reversal, gasping into the kiss when Alistair’s hands confidently unlaced his breeches, slipping under the leather to stroke him.
“You don’t have to,” Zane protested.
Alistair smirked wickedly in the patterned moonlight as he freed his lover’s cock and slowly sank to his knees. “How else am I going to learn what you like if I don’t practice? You didn’t really think I would let you walk away unsatisfied, did you, love?”
“Sweet Maker. This can’t be real,” Zane murmured, sliding his hands through Alistair’s hair. “I must be dreaming. That’s the only way this ever happens.” Snorting in amusement, Alistair pumped the unfamiliar shaft, appreciating the differences and the encouraging moans from above as he experimented with grip and speed.
“And how often do you dream of me, kneeling in front of you, stroking your cock?” he whispered, hoping the dim light hid how furiously he blushed at the frankness.
Biting his lip with a groan, Zane murmured, “More often than I should.”
“Well, I hope I don’t disappoint,” Alistair quipped, concealing his insecurities under his veil of humor.
With a vehement shake of his head, Zane’s hand briefly slipped from his hair to brush his cheek. “You could never disappoint me, Alistair. Especially not in this. Not when I love you, too,” he softly replied.
Tossing him a shy smile, Alistair pressed feather-light kisses across his shaft, his heart racing with the touch of velvety skin under his lips. Feeling more confident in his ability to please the man he loved, he licked a broad stripe along his cock, his grin expanding in the near dark at Zane’s surprised shout.
Mouth agape, the rogue stared at him when Alistair repeated the motion, swiping the fluid freely leaking from the head with a pleasant hum. Cupping his lover’s rapidly tightening sac, he gently rolled and fondled as he continued to lick and stroke with his other hand. He greedily drank in every one of Zane’s ragged breaths and broken curses like a man dying of thirst. It spurred him to continue, despite the bite in his forearm from the awkward angle and the tiredness of his jaw. He was determined to keep pulling those needy sounds of pleasure from him until he completely unraveled.
Wrapping his mouth around the tip, Alistair teasingly sucked and swirled his tongue around the head, repeating Zane’s earlier actions. Nerves temporarily set aside in favor of being a worthy lover and living up to his partner’s fantasies. Their guttural moans and desperate gasps mingled as his courage grew, swallowing more with each pass, wanting to give as much as the selfless man had to him.
“Fuck, Alistair… so close,” Zane warned.
“Come for me, Zane,” he answered, purposefully pitching his voice lower, smirking in satisfaction when the man shivered in response. “I want to see you. Let go for me.”
Bucking his hips into Alistair’s fist, one hand tight in his short hair, the other clinging to the tree, Zane stilled with a moan. Spilling over his hand, a few errant drops landed on his clothes, but Alistair didn’t give a damn. Utterly entranced by the flush darkening his skin in the silvered moonlight and perfect lips silently mouthing his name over and over as he shuddered through his climax.
Releasing his lover’s softening cock, Alistair shook his hand to remove most of the spend, wiping the rest on his tunic. He wasn’t quite ready to do what Zane had for him, but he’d get there. Standing, he rubbed a thumb across the rogue’s cheek, heart pounding erratically in his chest when adoring green eyes held his gaze.
“Come to bed with me?” Zane whispered.
“Yes,” Alistair answered without hesitation.
Straightening their clothes, in between breathless kisses and hushed endearments, the pair eventually reined themselves in enough to return to camp. The Wardens didn’t spare their companions a second glance as they slipped inside Zane’s tent with hands clasped. Curled together, skin to skin, it didn’t take Alistair long to lull Zane to sleep as he reverently carded his fingers through his hair. Fanned across his broad chest in glossy strands, Alistair realized it really was ink, marking him indelibly. Irrevocably. Permanently. Like Zevran’s tattoos, it was one stain Alistair would never wash out, one he planned to guard jealously and vowed to never be without.
Following his lover into the Fade’s embrace, Alistair fell asleep with a smile, perfectly at peace for the first time in his life. Secure in the knowledge this was only the first of many such nights.