Here is more from my modern cop/Carta AU with Alistair and Sirra that no one asked for. Except, it’s NSFW, so there is that! Mind you, it's a WIP and subject to change. But I wanted opinions on how it’s coming along. 💛 @kittimau @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold @fluffymabari @sharkapologists @river-of-asgard @schoute @lyrium-lovesong
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Tossing his keys on the ceramic dish perched atop the low bookshelf with a clatter, Alistair sighed heavily as he laid his wallet beside the ring of metal, smoothly locking the door with his other hand. Pushing off the frame, he strode into his kitchen and yanked the fridge open. A trip to the grocery store was desperately needed, but he never had time with the late shifts. Grabbing the last beer, he popped the top on the stout and poured it into a clean glass.
Admiring the foam in anticipation of the first cold sip, he almost missed the slippery scratch of pebbles under someone’s shoe from the deck. Unclipping his holster, he palmed his Glock and ducked into a crouch. Working his way through the edge of his living room, he stayed in the shadows, thumb resting on the safety, itching for an excuse to flick the switch.
Peeking around the sliding glass door, the slightly open door, he froze in shock.
Sirra Brosca was draped across one of his deck chairs, curvy legs in snug leggings propped on the railing, twirling a dark strand of hair around her finger. She glanced up with a bored expression, her lips faintly quirking before settling into a plump pout and patted the chair next to her.
“Hello, handsome. We need to talk.”
Tilting his head suspiciously, he slid onto the deck, gun in hand. “I don’t know whether you are incredibly stupid or stupidly brave to break into a police officer’s house.”
The signature smirk that had haunted his thoughts and fueled more midnight fantasies than he cared to admit bloomed on her heart-shaped lips.
“I’m Carta. That should tell you all you need to know about me and my motives. And technically, I didn’t break in. I’m merely trespassing. I cracked the door to get your attention, that’s all.”
Alistair shook his head while sinking into a chair against his better judgement. “If that were true, you wouldn’t have given me that tip. Thanks for that, by the way. Although, I still don’t know why you would give us that kind of intel.”
“Quite the haul, right?”
He noticed she pointedly did not give a reason for divulging the information that allowed them to intercept 9,000 kilos of lyrium from the port before it could hit the streets. An estimated street value of eleven million Crowns, it was the biggest bust in Denerim’s history.
Tucking his weapon back in his holster, he steepled his hands and leaned closer to the dwarven woman. “Why are you here? What do you want? Is there where you tell me I owe you and I say I don’t help criminals?”
Chuckling in that damnable husky voice, she crooned. “Ooo, a romance angle! Are we star-crossed lovers now? Does that make you Guinevere?”
Smiling despite himself, Alistair snorted. “I think I’d make a dashing Lancelot, thank you very much. A pity the days of knights and codes of honor are dead.”
Sirra shook her head almost fondly. “Not quite. You strike me as a very gallant guy, willing to do what’s right, no matter the cost.”
He leaned back against the chair, creating distance between them, but she followed his retreat. Unfurling her legs from the railing, she pressed forward, dropping her voice to a whisper.
“You know, the Carta has a dossier on every cop in town. Just like you have on us. None of your ‘undercover’ cops goes unrecognized. We see every move you make and it’s why you can’t nail them without an inside man… or woman. It’s why I chose you, Officer Theirin.”
Alistair tensed under her intense stare, held captive when she slid gracefully out of the chair, ankle boots tapping softly against the wood. He noted the fitted cut of her forest green top, drawing his eyes to her ample bosom, watching with rapt attention as she swung her wide hips with each step. Every move was an invitation, and he idly wondered if he would see the killing blow. If he would even care.
Placing her hands on either side of the chair, she caged him in, staring at him under thick, curled lashes and murmured. “Former Grey Warden, exemplary military record. Most well known for clearing an entire school of children as Fog Warriors set it on fire. Against orders. You returned to the conflagration multiple times, carrying out boys and girls covered in ash until the building was empty. I saw the footage, Alistair.”
He shivered at the sound of his name in that raspy voice. “H-How? The footage and the mission were sealed. There is -”
“I have my ways,” she interrupted airily, flicking her dainty fingers. “You are probably the closest this Age has to a knight. You are honorable and good. Maybe a little naïve, but that is part of your appeal.”
Crawling into his lap, she hummed appreciatively to discover how perfectly she fit in it. The man gasped as her thighs wrapped around his, her round ass deliciously close to where he wanted her, yet not close enough.
“Sirra…” he ground through clenched teeth. “What are you doing? What do you want? What is this all about?”
Licking her lips, she held his gaze as she leaned close, veering right at the last second to purr in his ear. “You need me, handsome. If you want to take down my father’s organization, you will need me. And… I need an alibi.”
His hands found her then, locking around her hips like steel as he growled into her curtain of hair. “Why do you need an alibi? Why me? You know what, nevermind, I don’t think I want to know. If you want to be an informant, which, for the record, I haven’t yet agreed to - I can’t be your alibi. And this is hardly keeping our working relationship professional, don’t you think?”
Grasping at straws, raging a war against his own desires, he struggled to find a way to get the dwarven woman off his lap before he did something stupid that involved little to no clothing. Her face filled his field of vision, nose ring flashing in the faint sliver of moonlight, and he had to remind himself to breathe.
“First, I don’t need an alibi tonight, but I know the time is coming when I will need you to cover for me. My father is not the only thing I’m running from. The pit is full of vipers.”
Alistair frowned heavily at that, a dawning realization that she was not doing this just for him. She was escaping, and he was her ticket out.
“Second, I never said this partnership had to be professional… or respectable. We’re both adults here, aren’t we, handsome? Of course, if you want me to get off your lap, I will.”
Gripping her generous curves tightly, he answered in a strained voice. “No, I don’t want you to do that.”
Smirking, she brushed her lips across his in a chaste kiss. “And that’s the rub, isn’t it, gorgeous? You don’t want to want me as much as you do. Because of who I am. Because of my name. Does it hit a little close to home?” Sirra’s teasing smile softened when his hazel eyes darkened.
“Shut up, you damnable siren.”
A large hand wrapped around her neck and pressed her lips fervently to his full mouth, and they moaned in unison as their lips and tongues fell into a natural rhythm. Scooting forward on the chair, he rose, and she locked her legs around his trim waist. Once inside the house, her small hand carefully closed the door behind them as his lips moved down her neck, nipping at the sensitive junction where it met her shoulder. She gasped in approval, bucking against his abs, and he chuckled.
“Wh-where are you taking me, Officer?”
Her dark eyes twinkled mischievously, and Alistair’s chest tightened in a way he didn’t really want to analyze right now. Instead, he smirked, murmuring as he circled her throat with licks and kisses.
“Where I take all naughty women who sneak into my backyard and proposition me with offers too tempting to refuse: my bedroom. Where else would I take you, Sirra?”
“Ancestors save me. You better not take me anywhere else, Alistair.”
He chuckled again, full of promise, and she shivered wantonly as he carried her through the hallway to the master suite. “Oh, I don’t know, I may want to take you all over this place before the night is through.”
They tumbled on the king-sized bed and she claimed his lips urgently. As they parted for air, she scrambled out of her top, revealing her full breasts barely contained in her black bra, and soft curves he needed to get his hands on. Alistair groaned as he kicked off his shoes desperately.
“I hope you live up to that promise, handsome. I want all of you and then some.”
Flicking her leggings absently aside, she froze as he shrugged out of his shirt, bronze muscles rippling in the moon-washed room. Without pausing, he unsnapped his gun, ejected the clip and laid them on his dresser before unzipping his trousers.
She could see the trail of auburn hair that led to what she really wanted, peeking through the elastic band of his boxer briefs. Sirra moaned unintentionally, the clingy fabric of his underwear leaving nothing to the imagination.
Alistair paused and glanced at her then, splayed out like a Satinalia present on his bed. Dark hair pooled underneath her flawless skin, reminding him of marble statues of ancient goddesses displayed in museums. Sex personified as she bit her lip, a flush blooming on her chest, her eyes nearly black as she ogled him.
“See something you like?” he taunted as he stepped out of his trousers. Striding confidently toward the bed, he knew she was drinking him in. His cock heavy and hard between muscular thighs, still hidden from view, but obvious through the thin material covering his modesty.
Exhaling raggedly, Sirra breathed, “You know I do. What about you, gorgeous? See anything you like?”
Reaching the edge of the bed, he shot her a dark gaze full of want. “I see what I’ve fantasized about since that night in the club two months ago, Sirra.”
Her breath hitched at his honest confession, and she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. Alistair watched intently as it dragged along her luscious mouth. Snagging her hip, he gently maneuvered her to the center of the bed and hovered over her. His voice was low and raw when he spoke again.
“But what I have before me is even better than I imagined. I am in deep with you already, siren. I have been since I met you.”
Lifting her torso slightly off the bed, Sirra reached around to unclasp her bra, a sultry laugh tumbling from her mouth when Alistair swore at the sight of her pierced nipples.
“Oh, darling, you ruined me that night in the club. And now I plan to return the favor.”
Thanks for those who tagged me over the last few days! @schoute @pikapeppa @fandomn00blr @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold @kittimau I didn’t have anything worthy to share until I edited this bit.
A little bit of Sun Touched and Alistair being vulnerable. 💛
Warm eyes glanced up and saw everything he’d been trying to conceal. In an instant, Sirra clasped his hand for balance and carefully stepped toward him. Her observant gaze noted his traitorously bright eyes and the trembling in his usually steady grasp.
“Oh, salroka,” she whispered. “What am I going to do with you, you giant human?”
Alistair shrugged listlessly, his voice thick with repressed emotion. “Love me?”
From the next chapter of Sun Touched, which I was hoping to get up today, but life got in the way. NSFW-ish. 😎
You’re welcome @sharkapologists Thanks for the tag @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold and @cornfedcryptid !
His lips crashed against hers again, hungry and insistent, as he dragged her onto the mattress with him. Sirra fell willingly, moaning in encouragement when Alistair nibbled her bottom lip, his own groan of pleasure joining hers when her fingers teased his sensitive nipples through his tunic. A sword roughened hand haltingly slipped under the hem of her shirt, painting abstract designs on her skin with the pads of his fingers, unsure if he should touch her this way, but desperately wanting to.
Scooting closer, Sirra hiked up her top to indicate her approval. Taking the hint, Alistair’s hand pressed to her flesh, his palm resting in the small of her back while his slender fingers splayed along her spine. Her nerve endings flamed to life under his gentle caress and she burned for more.
“Is it okay if I take off my shirt, Alistair?” Sirra breathed.
His lips left the trail they were blazing on her ear and he blinked a few times before smiling, slowly toying with the fabric of her tunic with a nod. The warrior watched with scarlet cheeks as Sirra sat up and crossed her arms to snag the hem; her face disappearing from view as the cloth rose over her head, but his eyes were locked on the rest of her.
Thanks for tagging me @cornfedcryptid! Tagging @bigfan-fanfic @ginnyq @fandomn00blr @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold @somniaran @darlingrutherford @ranawaytothedas @theaiobhan and anyone else who I forgot or wants to join! Apologies for double tags
From a chapter of Sun Touched only a couple of weeks away!
“Caridin’s teeth!”
The humans all stared in surprise, and Alistair slowly lowered his tankard with concern as the tension between the dwarven women escalated. Sirra’s eyes hardened to stone as she worked her jaw back and forth in silent challenge. He noted the way the other dwarf’s gaze flicked to her ears, and he frowned deeply, unsure what it all meant, but knowing it wasn’t anything good.
“Y-you’re…”
“A Grey Warden,” Sirra finished darkly for the barmaid.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Thanks for your patience, guys! I hope the next chapter meets with your approval!
The Wardens ignored Morrigan’s barbs in the morning regarding the numerous times the couple woke overnight in their continuous discovery of what made each other tick, as Sirra promised they would. The couple were determined not to let any negativity steal the residual bliss gleaned from their bubble last night, acutely aware their elation might be the only thing keeping them grounded for whatever awaited them in Redcliffe.
After a quick breakfast at the inn, the four companions met the mages at the lake. Sirra thanked the small contingent of men and women for their willingness to aid in their task. Shaking hands with First Enchanter Irving, the dwarven woman smiled pleasantly during the brief introductions, and officially welcomed Wynne to the party with a hug.
A beneficial side effect of the mages’ life in a tower was their stamina after years of climbing multiple floors daily. It allowed the Wardens to set a brutal pace to ensure they reached Redcliffe before Connor lost control of the demon again. The group stopped briefly for lunch before resuming their march, arriving at the castle by late afternoon.
As the throng of people filed into the throne room, Teagan and Isolde converged upon the group exuberantly, having assumed the worst after three days with no word. Alistair launched into a bare bones explanation of their delay as the mages set up for the ritual while Sirra conferred in hushed tones with Morrigan.
"Morrigan, I need you to go into the Fade and fight the demon," stated the dwarf.
The dark-haired woman arched an imperious eyebrow and crossed her arms over her scantily clad chest. "After you berated me in the Circle tower? I am supposed to simply forgive such an affront and do as I am bid, Warden? "
Sighing heavily, Sirra shook her head. "No, you've a right to be angry. I was..."
"A bitch?"
Sirra snorted at the mage's attempt to goad her, quirking her own eyebrow in response, and shot back. "Takes one to know one, doesn’t it?"
A faint uptick of Morrigan's lips told the shorter woman the witch approved of her unwillingness to back down.
"Look, I was unnecessarily harsh, but so were you,” Sirra leveled the human with a glare. “I won't argue with you on your stance regarding Circle mages. I am not a mage and not informed enough on the Circle and Chantry rules to even attempt it. But right now, that isn't the issue." The haughty woman continued to appraise her as she spoke, and Sirra was keenly aware every word counted in this moment.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapter 13 of Sun Touched
Meaning In A World Gone Mad
Exiting the dark tower, Sirra squinted against the bright light, groaning at the headache that pulsed against her temples at the rudeness of the sun. As her vision cleared, she checked its placement in the sky and realized it marked the approximate second hour in the afternoon. They’d been inside the tower for an entire day, at least. Who knew how much time passed in the real world when they were trapped in the Fade?
Reaching the dock, they discovered a different Templar waiting to row them across. Morrigan was the one who broached the question on everyone’s mind.
“How long were we locked inside your tower, Templar?”
“Two days,” came the clipped reply.
Sirra gasped and she felt Alistair tense beside her. Two days longer than they planned to leave Connor at the mercy of the demon. Yet they hadn’t had a choice, and they couldn’t march even halfway around the lake in their current state of exhaustion. They needed a decent meal, a good night’s rest, time to clean all the congealed gunk from their armor, and a bath. Ancestors, she was splurging for baths across the board.
Alistair helped her into the boat with the others, and they rocked along the waves in silence. Sirra missed the comfort of his knees on this trip, but he was contemplative and distracted. Instead, she clung to the side of the vessel with one hand and the bench seat with the other, praying the small craft remained upright on their crossing. It was an uneventful trip, and more quickly than it took to arrive at the tower, the foursome found themselves deposited on the opposite shore.
Sirra knew they made quite an impression when they entered the old inn: two women, one of whom was a mage, a man so tall he had to duck under the low lintel, and a dwarf wearing blood covered armor. Slapping a full coin purse on the table, she rented two rooms, baths, and a hot meal for them all. The innkeeper snatched the pouch and picked his jaw off the floor to yell at his staff to heat some water for multiple baths while he escorted them upstairs to the rooms.
There were four rooms upstairs, one of which was the communal bathing room. He gave them the two rooms side by side on the left of the stairwell and told them to see him about a hot meal when they were ready. Leliana and Morrigan claimed one room, leaving Alistair and Sirra outside the second.
The dwarf nervously shuffled her feet. “I can rent the third one, if you’d rather. I didn’t think to ask –“
Alistair tilted her head up to meet him for a chaste kiss, secretly pleased that he wouldn't be separated from her after their harrowing ordeal. “No, Sirra. I already promised to spend the next night in your tent, and we ended up in the Fade instead. This makes up for rudely denying you,” he murmured with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Come on.”
Pushing open the door, he followed in behind her and closed it with a gentle click of the metal lock in the door plate. Awkwardly, they deposited their packs and Sirra tugged off her boots with a grateful sigh. She grimaced at the flakes of dried blood that littered the floor wherever she walked or stood.
“Uh, I have to get out of this armor.”
“Yeeeeep.”
Alistair’s lilting reply carried in the small space, but he did not look at her as he dropped his gauntlets on the floor next to his boots. Sirra exhaled slowly to calm her anxiety and started working on the leather straps of her armor, only to discover most of the bindings glued shut by the copious amount of blood and who knew what else. She snarled in frustration, pausing at Alistair’s amused laughter and glanced at him, now in a pair of simple cloth breeches and his under tunic wearing a bemused expression.
“Need help?”
Blowing out an irritated breath, Sirra extended her arm in invitation and in three long strides he loomed over her, his strong hands making quick work of the stubborn straps, so she could finally be free of the confining leathers. Within minutes they had shucked her armor until all it left her standing in were her snug leggings and a loose tunic, much to her relief. Sighing happily, she sank onto a nearby chair with a smile, rolling her shoulders to work out the sore muscles underneath the armor she'd been stuck in for two days straight.
Thank you to the amazingly talented @ranawaytothedas for creating this for me!! I LOVE IT! And I appreciate you taking the time out of your busy schedule to make it! PS - Maeve is a baddass and I love her ❤️
Read about Sirra and Alistair in “Sun Touched” on AO3! Also, linked in the menu!
