Stolen first kiss
Bellara x Rook de Riva
They were walking through a cleared path of Arlathan, Davrin and Assan distracted ahead between the fresh scent of darkspawn and the eagerness to hunt for truffles. Rook snagged Bellaraās hand and pulled her behind the remnants of a wall. Out of earshot, out of sight.
āWha-?!ā
Rook put a gloved finger to her lips. He smiled and checked that Davrin was still occupied.
āIā¦ā he tried to stop the blushing, but heād never had such an intense crush before. He felt years younger and a completely failed Crow. But wasnāt he that already. Idiot.
Holding her in his hands felt foreign and instinctive.
He had been thinking of this moment for weeks. Months? That moment in the ruins when she popped out of the bushes. Her smile as she took him and Neve in. A pair so out of place. He in his various shades of blue and purple, his worn, and disgruntledly neglected Crow gear betraying the hours logged on the road. Neve and her half-masked face and mahogany skin. Her fine Tevinter robes that seemed oblivious to the wares and tears of the last few days.
He melted as her inquisitive brown eyes darted over his blades, his bow, his feathered cape. Her shock morphing into giggle and grin. He wondered then what kissing her would taste like.
She leaned forward and planted her lips on his. The past weeks of flirting culminated to this.
Mint and hibiscus. He now knew. Her lips were cool, electric. She pulled in the magic that came easy to her and pulled it through Rook. His scars an easy pathway with their shared desire.
He had kissed many before. Only a few with desire. He felt a rush of fear. That she would stop. Or dislike it. That he didnāt, couldnāt, pique her interest enough.
He felt fear, often, during a kiss. Elven Crows in the de Riva house were a sexual distraction. Fear in every kiss of being caught, clocked, or ambushed. Sex was free and frequent in the Crows in general. To blow off steam, to manipulate within and without houses, midnight lusts after too much wine. those kisses could easily be misinterpreted as more, or less, or a threat and a dagger was quicker than a conversation. There were unwelcome advances as well. From high ranking individuals from competing houses. He had feared death then. A misstep, the wrong rejection, would end his career. His position, yes, but usually a more finite end.
He feared living after tonight and not being able to do this again.
She wove her left hand into the hairs on the back of his head and pulled him in more. Her jaw pressing his open. Her tongue on his. She moaned softly. He melted into her touch. His hips weakened, his knees shook. His pelvis ached with the rush of adrenaline. He was grateful for the tight pants. Any moment this stolen kiss could be interrupted, and he needed to save further embarrassment.
Bellara giggled.
āFenrir de Riva,ā her brown eyes were nearly black in this low light. Her lips hovering close to his.
āYeah?ā His brain had suddenly turned to goo.
āIt feels so formal after āRookā. Like a different person altogether.ā He loosed her right hand from his grasp and ran her fingers down the tribute braid behind his ear.
āHe feels like a different life.ā Rook relaxed into her hold. Her eyes darting back and forth between his.
āBellara Lutareā
She smiled. āIt sounds like a different language when you say it.ā
She kissed him gently again and pushed him back upright over his feet. He blushed more. She darted out and started rambling at Davrin. Rook took a deep breath and climbed around to approach from the path above. He wanted to keep this sacred and safe a little longer.
