aura890 asked for a kiss for show, Alistair and Nell Cousland
This took me far too long to finish, and I apologize for that aura!
Nell Cousland had never had problems with sex: not with wanting it, not with finding willing partners, not with enjoying it, not even when she was sixteen and had decided to see what all the fuss was about, and had seduced Roderick Gilmore and managed to make it seem like it was all his idea.
Of course when her father had walked in on them early the next morning, she’d readily admitted it was all her doing. What else could she do while poor Gilly stood there pale as the sheets of the bed, looking so nervous that she’d been afraid he might faint or throw up? She’d been rather proud of the arguments she’d brought forth too: if she had been a boy her father wouldn’t have thought twice about it, and so as long as she was careful, respected her partners, made sure they respected her and employed some easily obtainable methods of preventing an unwanted pregnancy or sexual disease, why shouldn’t she enjoy sex the way men did?
Her father had looked almost as pale as Gilly when she was done.
Her subsequent partners had been all too glad to be involved with a woman who wasn’t looking for a commitment, one who simply wanted to enjoy herself. It had been remarkably easy to convince them to join her.
She’d never met anyone like him.
That statement applied to a lot of things about him, but right now she was thinking of his increasingly frustrating reluctance to sleep with her.
Fuck her until she couldn’t see straight.
Apparently she had run out of euphemisms.
She honestly didn’t know what to do. He’d looked so appalled when she’d asked him if he wanted to come back to her tent early on in their travels, that she'd been afraid to reissue the invitation.
She’d been watching him as he talked with Wynne one night when Zevran had sat down beside her.
“Such a scowl, my goddess. It will age you before your time.” He’d cautioned her.
She’d turned to look at him. “If you were given the chance would you sleep with me or not?” She’d asked abruptly.
Hed given her a wary look. “Which answer will be less likely to get me stabbed?”
That had only deepened her scowl and she’d turned back to watch Alistair again.
“Ah.” Said Zevran, understanding now. “You grow frustrated with our handsome templar’s reluctance?”
Zevran watched her for a moment. “Might I make a suggestion?”
“Go ahead.” She told him, not taking her eyes from Alistair. “Maker knows I’ve run out of ideas.”
She turned and raised an eyebrow. “Woo him? That’s your suggestion?”
Zevran shrugged. “In many ways you behave as a man does and Alistair as a woman. You are confident, skilled, experienced in the ways of love, whereas our young templar grew up quite sheltered. All of this is new to him. He needs to be slowly led to where you want him. He needs to be wooed.” When Nell gave him a skeptical look, he’d asked her. “Were you never wooed when you were innocent and uncertain?”
She couldn’t help laughing. “No. I always found it a bit of a waste of time, actually.”
“Try it, my goddess.” Zevran had said, getting to his feet. “Woo him. I think you will be pleased with the results.”
And so she’d wooed him, carefully, cautiously, gently, trying not to frighten him, not to be too direct or aggressive. It wasn’t easy for her. She sometimes felt like she was courting a very shy woodland creature (which seemed ridiculous given Alistair’s height and bulk), but she’d done it -- given him compliments, given him gifts, given him her attention and affection and it had seemed to be working.
Late one night when she’d been on watch, he’d come out of his tent and sat down beside her. They’d talked for a while and then suddenly he’d been confessing to his growing feelings towards her and when she’d confessed to feeling the same he’d kissed her, kissed her so thoroughly and so skillfully that she’d been rendered momentarily speechless.
“Was that too soon?” He’d asked carefully.
She’d stood there, tingling down to the tips of her toes and managed to get out. “No. Not too soon. I liked it.”
He’d given her a relieved smile. “Good. I’ll take that as a good sign.” He’d looked at her adoringly as if she were something wondrous and new. “Maker’s Breath, but you’re beautiful. I am a lucky man.” And then he’d turned and gone back to his tent.
She’d only been able to goggle after him. She’d spent the rest of the night smiling stupidly into the campfire, occasionally touching her fingers to her lips, remembering how the kiss had felt.
And since then there had been….nothing.
Well nothing more. He was still as attentive as ever, but there hadn’t been a repeat of that kiss. There hadn’t been a repeat of anything. Certainly things hadn’t progressed, and she didn’t think she could give him any more rune stones or small carved figurines without looking like a complete fool.
She could scream with frustration.
Worst of all were the rest of her companions. Morrigan and Sten seemed appalled that she was even making the effort. Leliana had taken to giving her sympathetic hugs and attempting to style her hair in different ways. Wynne would pat her hand in a patronizing manner, telling her things had a way of working out for the best. Zevran had started out counseling patience, but of late had taken to once again offering to relieve her tension.
And she was so sexually frustrated she’d actually considered it for about three seconds. Then she’d whirled away from him and stalked out of camp.
Alistair had looked up as she’d stalked by. “Hey where are you going?”
“For a swim.” She’d shouted over her shoulder.
“The water will be freezing at this time of year.” He called after her.
“I’m counting on it.” She muttered.
The water had been so cold it had been almost painful. She was shivering as she pulled her clothes back on.
She had no idea what she was supposed to do next. A declaration of love? Walk up to him and say 'Here’s the thing, being with you makes me crazy but I can’t imagine being without you?'
Right. There wasn’t a person alive who could pull off that line.
She was pathetic. Someday you’ll find a man who’ll be able to handle you, Fergus had warned her once, and she’d laughed at him, picturing some big brute of a man who’d try and control her and make her behave as a proper Fereldan noblewoman should.
She’d never in a hundred years guessed she’d be aching to be handled by a twenty-five year old Chantry virgin.
“Hey. I brought you a blanket.” Alistair was suddenly there, wrapping one of the blankets from camp around her shoulders.
It helped but she was still shivering.
He frowned and wrapped his arms around her trying to warm her. “I thought you were supposed to be the one who had sense.” He commented, rubbing his hands up and down her back. “Is everything okay? Is it Zevran?”
She huddled closer to him, and not just because he radiated warmth like a furnace, and shook her head. “No. Yes. It’s all of them. They think I’m pathetic.”
“Well they’re nuts if they think that. Name one pathetic thing you’ve ever done.”
She went still trying to decide if she should say anything and decided at this point she had nothing else to lose. “I’ve been trying to woo you and failing miserably.” She said leaning her head against his shoulder. As tall as she was, Alistair was the only man she’d been able to do that with while standing.
His hands paused on her back. “You’ve been wooing me?” He asked finally.
She pulled back and swatted him with both hands. “Yes I’ve been wooing you. I’ve been wooing you and you haven’t even noticed. That’s how pathetic I am.”
He looked completely confused. “Why in the Maker’s name would you think you had to woo me? I told you how I felt. I kissed you.”
“And it’s been weeks and you haven’t kissed me again.”
She could see his cheeks flush even in the dim twilight.
“We haven’t really been alone.” He stammered. “The others have always been there or nearby...” He gave her a rueful look. “And that’s the whole problem isn’t it? They’ve never seen us.”
She shook her head. “No. They didn’t see the kiss or hear how you felt – how we felt – about each other. They just think I’m spectacularly bad at seduction, or that you aren’t at interested, and I haven’t gotten the message. Pathetic, see?” She couldn’t help a small sigh.
“Maker. I just assumed they’d know from the way I looked at you, that it must be written all over my face. I didn’t realize we had to put on a show. I'm sorry. This romance stuff’s new to me, you know. Raised by dogs and all…”
He looked so discouraged that she began to feel guilty. She leaned over and gently kissed his cheek. “Let’s go back to camp.”
They didn’t speak as they walked. She glanced sideways at him. He was frowning, as if he was trying to puzzle something out.
Dinner was ready, and the others were already eating when they arrived back. Wordlessly she grabbed a couple of bowls. She filled one and passed it to Alistair.
He stared at it for a moment, and then at her, and muttered. “Right.” And then he pushed the bowl aside, grabbing her face between his hands, and he kissed her. Really kissed her.
And Sweet Andraste, it was just as good as the first time he had done it. She dropped the bowl and the ladle on the ground and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back with all passion she’d been keeping inside for the past few weeks. One of his hands went around her waist and the other slid into her hair.
Dimly she heard Morrigan mutter. “Ugh.” and Zevran let out a low whistle of appreciation.
Alistair pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. They were both breathing heavily. “I think we’ve made our point, don’t you? They’ll have figured it out?” He asked quietly.
She smiled happily. “I think so. Of course there might be a demand for a repeat performance from time to time.”
He smiled back at her. “You don’t think they’ll be satisfied with that show?” He asked.
She shook her head. “I’m not sure I’ll be satisfied with it.” His cheeks turned pink, and she couldn’t help laughing and kissing him once more. She reached out and stroked his cheek, staring at him in wonder. “I am a lucky woman.” She said softly.
