“I want to see you alone when all of this is done,” Aedan said, and Alistair found himself smirking. He knew that tone well, after this remarkable year, full of want and invitation.
“To explain why you’re not dead?” he asked, raising one brow.
Aedan smiled at that, brown eyes crinkling at the corners beneath his mop of sand-brown hair. “Would you believe luck?”
He dragged his lower lip between his teeth afterward, and Alistair’s lungs went tight inside his chest. He’d sneak away with him here and now if it weren’t for all the people, and Maker, who’d known he had it in him?
Not me, he thought. But Aedan made him bold.
For now they had crowds to appease and goodbyes to say, and later there would be straggling darkspawn and demons...but it was the in-between he looked forward to.
“I might believe luck,” he said, leaning in, though he knew something else was at play. Something Aedan would tell him in his own time.
Celebration continued late into the night, Aedan always just out of his reach. Supremely irritating, all the pomp and exaltations. Yes, yes, there was an archdemon, I’m happy it’s dead now, too. Yes, we’ve ended the Blight, could I have ten minutes to myself with the Hero of Ferelden? Go annoy the queen for a bit, she’s used to it, at least.
None of which he said. All of which he wanted to.
He found Aedan as the city bells struck second hour after midnight, the crows thinning in quantity if not exuberance. “I’d say we won’t be missed, if we disappear now.”
Aedan drew a quick breath, and nodded. With a smile, he said, “I’m sure no one remembers why the party’s on--only that it’s on.
Too many empty, twisty hallways in the palace. Their footsteps echoed against the stone walls and floors, accompanying sounds of snores and echoing laughter from the sleeping chambers in the guest wing. Aedan pulled him into an empty nook and took the sides of his face in both hands, pulling Alistair down into the kiss he’d been waiting for all evening. Exhaustion left him in an instant, and he grabbed Aedan’s hands in both of his, pinning them above his head and rutting against his thigh.
They might be seen. He didn’t care.
Alistair licked at the seam of his lips, and his mouth opened; Alistair swallowed the small, muffled cry and released his hands, took a fistful of his surcoat and dragged him closer instead, all while he nipped and sucked and left Aedan a mewling heap of distraction.
“That’s not enough,” Aedan hissed, tipping his head back against the wall while Alistair placed a bruise on his throat with his mouth. He’ll wear my mark tomorrow, where everyone can see it. The thought of it got his blood up, and he buried his hands in Aedan’s hair, pulling hard enough to get his attention.
“What’s not enough?”
“You--this--I’ll have more than kisses in the hall!”
They’d all been given sumptuous quarters, though Aedan’s were closer, and he led the way there, Alistair behind him, close enough their steps nearly tangled.
“I asked for a bottle of sweet oil to be sent up,” Aedan said. He closed the door behind them and set the latch.
“Presumptuous of you,” Alistair replied, and this time Aedan took him for another searing kiss, dragged Alistair’s hand down over the bulge in his breeches.
Alistair squeezed him through the fabric, worked his cock between hands that hadn’t been skilled so very long ago, let Aedan shimmy back toward the bed and shuck his surcoat, shoes, and shirt. Alistair bent to take his nipple between his teeth, which won him a strong moan and made him grin.
He pulled breeches and smallclothes down over Aedan’s hips; the hissing sound he made went directly to his own cock. Aedan’s bobbed before him, full and wanton and lovely--which was still strange to him; he’d only ever thought of cocks as funny-looking before.
“When,” Aedan gasped, as Alistair gripped his shaft in one hand and made swirling strokes around the head with his other thumb, “When are you going to fuck me?”
“Not yet,” he said, though his cock twitched at the invitation.
Aedan hot and tight beneath him, around him--six months ago he’d come just thinking of it, his hands around himself and his body tense imagining a man in ways he’d never done before.
Now, though, he wanted Aedan in his mouth, and pushed him back into the bed. The feather mattress gave beneath them, and he shimmied down his lover’s naked body, leaving a trail of licks and nips behind him.
Aedan called out at leach one, hands scrabbling for purchase in the bedclothes.
He licked up the length of Aedan’s cock and drew the head into his mouth. He tasted bitterness at the tip and moaned around him.
Aedan took him by the hair and tugged upward, then said, “I’m not waiting anymore, sweet Maker, hurry up.”
Alistair felt his cock pop out of his mouth and watched Aedan up the length of his body. He was red-faced, now, and the flush melted down over his shoulders and chest beneath the peppering of hair there, and in that moment Alistair couldn’t remember why he was still dressed.
His shirt tried to tangle around his wrists, but when he finally got out of his clothes there was Aedan, nose to nose with him with the sweet oil in his hands. He popped the cork and took Alistair’s hands in his own, poured oil into the cup of his palm.
“You still aren’t fucking me,” he said, and Alistair’s breath caught. “Then you make me come with you inside me.”
In that moment Aedan took Alistair’s hand and wrapped it around his cock for a single, quick stroke, then dragged him back to the bed, placing the oil on the ground nearby where they might reach it easily.
He pushed two oiled fingers into Aedan’s hole, and the other man’s groan let him know that yes, this was exactly right. He thrust deeper in with his hand, stretching and loosening to Aedan’s wordless cries.
“More!” Aedan gasped. He moved down onto Alistair’s hand and leaned upward, catching Alistair’s mouth and kissing him furiously, hard teeth and tongue moving in rough strokes against Alistair’s.
Instead of giving more, Alistair took his hand away and took the oil for his cock, watching Aedan watch him while he slicked himself up. “Tell me what you want,” he said. He ran his fingertips over the head of his cock and thrust into his own hand, Aedan’s eyes on him as he did.
Aedan watched; he had since their first time, eyes never leaving Alistair’s face while he said exactly what he liked and wanted; he wasn’t one for soft breaths and fluttering eyelashes, not the kind of person Alistair thought he’d love at all, and yet. He couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.
“Give me your cock or--”
“Or what, hm?”
“I’ll climb up on you,” he stopped and kissed him. “And take it. Teasing hour’s done.“
Alistair pushed him back down on the bed, found each of Aedan’s knees over his shoulders and bent so their foreheads rested against one another.
“Took you long enough to start bossing,” he breathed, and Aedan bucked up beneath him, his cock pressed between their bellies.
Now Aedan gave Alistair’s cock a couple of strokes, and he couldn’t wait any longer. He found his hole and pushed in, long, slow, easy; they fit, and Aedan threw his head back with a growled, “Finally.”
Aedan was tight and hot around him in a way that made him ache, made him wonder how long he might last tonight.
He pulled back and thrust, again and again, clean hand twined with Aedan’s above their heads. Aedan’s cock shifted between them with each thrust, and he went on like that for long moments, feeling his lover tense and dissolve into incoherencies.
“Make me, make me make me,” Aedan whispered, rough-voiced, and Alistair matched his demands with his thrusting. Finally Aedan slipped his free hand between their bellies and took himself in hand, tugging himself until he cried out, his come hot and wet and spread on both their bodies.
Not long after Alistair spilled, shaking, and withdrew, sticky and aching and full of laughter. Sleepily, he said, “You. You are unbelievable.”
“But do you believe me?” Aedan replied, rolling over and looking for a basin to clean up.
“You could sell me a beach house in the Bannorn and I’d believe you,” he said, and Aedan laughed.
The sun cast a red-gold glow over Denerim the next morning, and Alistair stirred with the the instincts of a man who’d been waking with the dawn since he was ten. It took him a bit to recall where he was, Aedan stretched out beside him, shoulders broad beneath Alistair’s outstretched arm.
The Blight was over, finished before it even got the chance to start, and they had a lifetime’s worth of work rebuilding Ferelden’s Wardens ahead of them.
Aedan made a soft noise in his throat and turned over, snuggling into Alistair’s side, and Alistair decided that, just this once, he’d try to sleep in.