undwarfy | Open post

He noticed the reluctance, and it just made the situation worse. The last thing he fucking wanted was to press himself against a naked woman who profoundly didn't want to be there. Maker.

"Don't worry, elf, the chest hair won't bite." Maybe a joke would help? Undermine the reality of him sliding into place behind her and holding the coat over them both. "I promise."

He was freezing. He was damp and freezing and--

Had surprisingly impressive arms and--

And she wasn't breathing, she realised. She wasn't breathing. Why?

As Fenris reminded herself to inhale, she found herself curling back toward him, but she couldn't figure out what it was that was different until it crashed into her like one of the thunderclaps outside.

Everywhere he touched - no. No, not quite everywhere. There was fabric between them there, and she could feel it now that she thought about it, but--

But everywhere their skin touched, the pain she'd been used to for so long was fading away. Oh, Maker, what was this? It couldn't be anything he'd planned; he'd not had a chance. So what... what was it?

Confused, Fenris still curled back against him, confusion vivid in her expression as she tried to puzzle out just what was going on.

"Do you... use some kind of skin balm?" It couldn't just be elfroot, whatever it was. That had never worked.

"Um... no?"

Okay, he had expected some awkwardness, but her freezing up for a good sixty seconds, then suddenly cuddling into him? With a look on her face like she was trying to do complicated math in her head?

"You alright?" Varric uncertainly let his arm, previously sort of hovering uncomfortably, settle on her shoulder.

"I'm..."

How could she explain other than bluntly? Other than confusedly? Her eyes closed and she sighed - but furthering her confusion, it was less a sigh of frustration and more one of comfort as his arm contacted a few more of the markings and nearly instantly soothed them. This couldn't be magic. It was too good for that.

"I'm confused," she managed at last.

"Since Danarius gave me these markings, my skin has... ached, for lack of a better word. Any type of contact, physical or magical, makes it worse. Or it did, until--"

Fenris broke off, glancing toward him, suddenly finding herself shy. It felt so good to lack that pain that the temptation was there to wrap herself around him and soak in the contact, which was something she'd never, in her memory, craved.

"I'm... trying to figure out why," she finished at last, gaze averted.

Varric had to close his eyes when she made that sound; it wasn't exactly a sex noise, but it was enough to be awkward with her naked body pressed against his chest. Sodding ancestors, this was definitely a punishment for... for something.

"So- so the markings hurt constantly, is that right?" Okay, concerning and terrible. "Until now? Let's see..."

He moved his hand on her shoulder, found a new mark.

"How about that?"

"Mmm. That made it stop." With the initial rush of pain relief becoming a new sort of normal, it was easier for her to speak, but it didn't much lessen the impulse to turn around and wrap all of her limbs around him. Only her own self control was holding that back. "It's why I asked about the balm. I can't remember not hurting."

And if it had been a balm, she was going to buy as much of it as she could find when they got back to Kirkwall and she was going to bathe in it. But without the balm, that meant it was him somehow.

How, she had yet to figure out.

But an inkling came through after her mind supplied the image of his fingers tracing one of the lyrium lines. "Aren't dwarves resistant to lyrium?"

His finger was, in fact, tracing a lyrium line. One of the few he could see, just far enough up her shoulder (close to her neck, her chest, her-) that he could see the faint white and his own fingertip tracing it.

"Yeah," he said, a bit distantly. "I can sort of..." His voice fell away again in concentration. There was something- the harder he tried to chase it, the more it slipped away. But he finally figured out what it was he was feeling. "I swear I can almost hear it. Feels weird, makes my teeth itch."

It was a very, very hard sensation to explain to anyone who wasn't resistant to the stuff. Surfacers, all they knew was this insane rush and apparently ridiculous series of sensations, but to dwarves, it was something subtle and strange, something that pulled at the bones and pulsed like heartbeats.

Made his teeth itch. And here she was practically--

Fasta vass, she was being crude.

She kept herself from sighing with resignation, or even whining, so she could say, "I'm sorry - I didn't even think that the markings would bother you. I've been selfish. I'll move."

If they sat side by side, they could still share some warmth. Not quite as much, but less of her lyrium would be touching him. There would be less to disturb him.

So damned selfish to not even think.

"No!" He winced. Too eager by half. "I mean- no need, it's fine. It's hard to explain, but it... it's weird, but it doesn't bother me. I think it's a dwarf thing."

True to form, that finger kept following its lyrium line, curving over the shoulder, swooping down to her collarbone.

"Sorry, getting kind of.. distracted." He blinked and pulled his hand back, aware of how close he came to just wrapping his arms around her. "Say the word, and I'll stop."

In the span of those few moments, a few things happened. First, she relaxed back against him again. Then, the speed and the... the tone of that 'no' put a little flutter of hope in her that was as alien as the lack of pain in her skin. He kept tracing her markings, and that felt heavenly.

And that made it so easy for her to lean her head back against his shoulder, putting a degree of trust in him that she'd not given anyone in years. Especially when she murmured, "Please don't stop."

She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt actually good, and it didn't escape her that it took being stuck in a cave, huddling for warmth, for it to happen. But she couldn't - and wouldn't - complain.

"You aren't the only one getting distracted."

Shit. He closed his eyes for a second, unable to entirely believe what was happening. The gorgeous naked woman in his arms, resting against him, asking him to touch her- it was a genuine struggle to remind himself, as his hand started moving again, that this was for pain relief. It was to help a friend.

Then she kept talking. Varric ducked his head a little, not quite believing, but bold enough to murmur a little closer to her ear. "Is that so?"

His finger traced that lyrium line- it swooped down lower now, if he remembered correctly. Of course he did, he got a long enough eyeful. His movements slowed so that his finger traced an incredibly slow path- slow, cautious, careful. Perhaps even teasing, as the lyrium line swooped underneath her breast and started in a tighter curve- one that, if he kept this up, would end in a tight circle around her tight little nipple.

He wasn't there yet. For now, he lingered at the bottom curve of the marking, underneath her breast, deliberately angling his hand so there was no risk of accidental... touching.

"Alright, Fen?"

While she hadn't quite expected that right off, she couldn't say she was surprised, either. Not really. After all, moments ago, she'd been seriously contemplating turning around and rubbing herself on him. She had goosebumps again, but these were from a much different source. These were from the very same reason that her breathing had gone just that bit deeper.

"It's fine, Varric," she assured, voice soft. "Consider yourself as having blanket permission."

The warmth she felt - she wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not, but she wasn't going to make him stop. It felt too good. Even if--

She should tell him. She knew she should. After all, he was being kind and thoughtful, asking permission before touching, and here she was, just... touching. Taking advantage.

"I'm enjoying your chest hair. It feels nice on my back. And your arms are very... Mm. Very appealing," she said, knowing it wasn't the same as asking, but at least it was an admission.

He muffled a laugh into her silvery-white hair; Maker's breath, she was adorable. Dissecting all the different things about him she was enjoying? Well, aside from his surprise at hearing her enjoying him at all (elves tended to go for humans or other elves, in his experience), and the initial blush of flattery- it was just goddamn cute.

"Appealing, huh?" He asked conversationally, as if his hand wasn't tracing a slow circle around her breast- tighter, closer. "I should pick things up and put them down more often. Hell, I could even flex."

It probably didn't need to be said that he was enjoying her. He hadn't exactly been subtle about it before. Which was why he didn't say anything else as he reached the tightest curl of the lyrium line- and found himself slowly tracing the very edge of her nipple. A light touch, teasing, barely-there.

"Promise?" The word barely escaped before she took a breath that was closer to a gasp and her hand found his knee to wrap around. "Oh, Maker--"

Just that small touch, that bit of a caress and she found herself pressing her knees together. That felt...

They'd hurt for so long. If her breasts, her nipples, had ever felt nice, she didn't know, but suddenly, with most of the pain gone, it was like a shock all through her, straight to her groin. She could actually feel herself starting to get wet (wetter, she admitted to herself) from that one little touch.

"Oh, this is going to turn into some wonderful trouble, isn't it," she half-spoke, half-moaned.

"I can only hope."

Trouble? Fuck him, if she kept that up, he was going to lose his damn mind. This one little touch and she was already so responsive. It made him move his other hand as well- to bring that up and follow the same circle, caressing both breasts at once. The slight shift in position had her leaning back against his chest, resting her slight weight on him.

Which made it even easier to shift his hands just so, for the lightest, most delicate drag of nails.

Her back arched, breasts pushed up and into his hands, into his touch, as she took hold of his legs. Oh Maker. She knew already how to take pleasure, how to enjoy her body, but this was so extremely different. It was all she could do to hold on, even when his coat, the barrier between them and the world, started to slip down. Her skin felt hot. A bit of cool air just heightened the contrast - and made her nipples all the harder.

And that was when Fenris became sure that she and Varric were going to have sex in this cave, with this wild storm outside, and she would thrill at every moment.

"Maddening dwarf," she moaned, her own nails giving his thighs the lightest scrape. Mh, the hair on his legs - her hips shifted a little when she felt it. Deodamnatus, this was amazing.

"So I'm told," he murmured into her hair before ducking his head down. He pressed a soft, stubbly kiss to the side of her neck, emboldened by her moaning, cock twitching every time she writhed against him.

He kissed her again, with the softest barely-there scrape of teeth, and let his fingers wander. His calloused fingertips brushed feather-light over her hard, pebbled nipples- and oh, he made sure to trace them in circles first, to hit those lyrium dots he had spied earlier. He avoided the sensitive nubs for now, just letting his nails drag over tightening flesh, making sure the last of that particular pain was gone.

"F-fasta vass--"

One hand let go, lifted, found the tie to Varric's hair and quickly fussed it undone so she could slide her fingers into his hair. It was a hell of a pose for her, flexing her back to show off the small mounds of her breasts, the flatness of her stomach, the way her back could curve. But that was far from her mind.

What Fenris did do was tighten her fingers in his hair enough to pull him from her neck for the express purpose of pressing her mouth to his. She couldn't remember the last time she'd voluntarily kissed someone, but she wanted it with him so badly. Hungry little sounds escaped her throat as her lips moved against his, the kiss a demanding thing so as to leave no doubt just how much this was welcomed.

He met her with a hungry moan, half from the yank at his hair and half from how badly he wanted to kiss her. Fenris was demanding in how she kissed him, stroking her tongue insistently against his and demanding as passionate a response from him. He answered with a deep, intense kiss, tongue exploring her mouth, moving against hers, teeth nipping at her lip gently.

All the while, his hands kept teasing her, with light, barely-there touches and gentle drags of nails around the outside of her nipples, meant to tighten them, to make them harden, to tease until she couldn't stand it.

When she had to breathe - and she had to, flecks of golden sparkle starting to encroach at the edges of her vision - she pulled back and exhaled a threat that wasn't really a threat at all: "I'm going to cut your smalls off if you don't get them out of the way."

No, that was more of a promise.

But the kiss was only broken for long enough for her to say that. Unfairly, maybe, as it meant that she wasn't giving him much of a chance to do what she asked. Too many conflicting impulses. She wanted him bare, but she wanted the kiss to go on, wanted his hands on her as evidenced by the soft and wanting moans she gave him. There was just so much to want.

Varric was obviously taking her threat very seriously, as evidenced by the way he didn't move even a little bit, but gave a little in his teasing and began to rub her nipples gently.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" He couldn't keep the smugness off his face, as he gave one of them a very gentle pinch.

The sound she made very nearly rang through the small cave, her hand tightening in his hair, her body becoming bowstring tight. It was next thing to a cry of orgasm, and the way she shivered made it plain just how good that felt to her.

She panted afterward - and then she was moving, turning in his arms, coming up to kneel with the coat falling in a half-circle behind her. And, after she raked her nails down his chest, pushing him onto his back, her hands found the hip of his smalls - and she tore through, her eyes seeking, and finding, his.

"That," Fenris purred. "I was saying that I would do that."

He made a sound very like a growl and sat up, pulling her into his lap and holding her in a surprisingly strong grip.

"Fenris," he crooned, mouthing at her collarbone. "Were you not having fun? Shame on me for not noticing. Maybe I shouldn't touch you there anymore."

The growl. The hold. Fenris moaned, arms wrapping around his shoulders, fingers sliding into his hair. "If you stop, I'll hate you forever."

Already in his lap, she squirmed until her legs were very satisfyingly wrapped around his waist and she was holding on to him with every single limb. Oh Maker, this was...

A tiny thread of doubt wove in, though. What if he really did stop touching her? What if he never touched her again? That bit of worry gentled her and made her nuzzle against him, made her hands slide down his back as she beseeched, "Please don't stop, Varric."

Something in her tone gave him pause; he looked at her again through the haze of lust and saw something worried and jarringly pliant. Sure, he liked being in control (mostly), but this felt different. It felt like a side of Fenris he'd never seen before.

It made him put a hand under her chin and tilt her face up to look at him. With a gentle, leading finger, he brought her up to his level for a sweet kiss.

"Just teasing, Fen. Don't worry."

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