Love's Blush

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  She expected the obvious answers, a full breast, a round ass, plump lips -- all things she didn't have. Alistair curled a finger with her errant hairs and sighed, "I like a woman that's fun, and...I have to say I never looked much at legs, but these," he drew his fingers back to circle her thighs and strain for the calves still wrapped around him, "are divine."

  "No, they're just, the bits I walk around on," Reiss tried to wave away the compliment while blushing up a storm.

  "And I damn near walked into a wall when you were wearing only that clinging under armor one day," he laughed at himself. She missed that, missed a lot of things it seemed, the elf so certain that a human like him wouldn't look twice at her. And now...

  "Alistair," Reiss whispered, needing to tell him something, but a great smile bloomed upon his face at that. "What?" she asked, thrown by it.

  "I like hearing my name in your voice." He was still inside her, his cheeks rusted from the exertion and glistening, but none of that seemed to matter as Alistair began to bend over to kiss her.

  At that moment, a grey shadow bound across the floor barely stirring a scrap of straw as it leaped high into the air and landed four paws upon Alistair's back. "Sylaise!" Reiss shrieked, trying to wave the cat off, but she was having none of it.

  Padding around gently, the cat kneaded her paws against his flesh before unceremoniously curling up for a nap on the King's naked back. He strained to see what was happening over his shoulder, but couldn't quite reach. "Is there a cat sleeping on me?"

  "I'm afraid so," Reiss admitted. She began to slide forward to try and wiggle out from underneath him. "I can shoo her off and..."

  Alistair caught her lips in a deep kiss, pushing her head down to the floor as his body followed. Reiss' exhausted legs tumbled off him, as the man stretched out over her like a living blanket. The warmth wrapped around her while he lay his tousled hair flecked with straw upon her chest. As the man lay there listening to her heartbeat and only partially crushing her, she tried to fit through his hair to pull out the straw. That was enough to draw Sylaise's attention. Upset at her treat being given to the dogs, the cat padded up to Reiss, collapsed both paws around Alistair's neck as if she expected a piggy back ride, and then mewled helplessly.

  While Reiss scratched her cat's head and gently massaged the man trying to bury a smile against her skin she felt a warm bliss for the first time in her life.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Afterglow

  Wow.

  Wow.

  That's enough, time to be serious and focus.

  Okay, maybe a few more wows worked into the mix for good measure, then liberally sprinkled with 'Yes!'

  Alistair felt like he was flying a good twenty or so feet through the air and all without an ogre having kicked him off a cliff. Against his naked body pretend slumbered Reiss, her hair fanned out over his body like a golden blanket. It'd been so long since he had a woman curled up on him, her breaths matching his, her soft and so damn tempting body warming him to a cheek breaking smile. That leg of hers was straddled around his, her knee on occasion bouncing close to his satisfied bits, but he didn't worry. She seemed to be as drained as he felt -- ecstatic enough for his soul to climb mountains while the body lay at the summit and gave a hearty thumbs up.

  The cat grew tired of trying to stay on top the warm but always twitching human and headed off for that perfect sunbeam elsewhere in the kennels. Alistair slid off Reiss, prepared to let her gather her clothes and probably pretend none of it ever happened, but she wrapped her arms around him and curled up in the crook of his arm. With one hand draped down her back, his other free fingers kept darting close to her face. He couldn't see much above his eyes aside from the holes in the kennel's roof that needed patching, but he could feel her breath wafting against his skin and that drew a satisfying smile to his guts.

  He hadn't anticipated that reaction when he came to talk to her. Alistair gave it odds that either she'd admit there was a crush and it should go no further, deny it and say for the sake of her job it'd be best if he ignore it, or he'd blush himself bad enough to cause spontaneous human combustion and accidentally immolate the kennel in the process. What really happened was beyond his wildest dreams.

  "Mm," she murmured, never really asleep, but not quite in the waking world either. Alistair was shocked he was bright eyed awake after all that. Maybe he was too busy doing an internal dance to let rest wash over him.

  "Are you still with me?" he asked while glancing down at a crown of blonde hair.

  "I believe so, but I fear it will require a scouting party to find all of my displaced clothes."

  "Like looking for a pair of knickers in a haystack," he chuckled glancing over at the straw pile they'd mostly stayed out of and for good reason.

  Reiss seemed to have the same idea as she lifted her head and stared over at it, "I'm surprised you didn't want to, uh..." He curled his fingers over her cheek to feel the blush, while well aware he had one to match, "in the straw."

  "Dear Maker, no. That stuff's as itchy as a chantry sister's cassock. I think I'd rather have sex on an actual stack of needles," Alistair laughed before pausing and shuddering at the thought. "Actually, that might be a tossup."

  "You've slept in straw?" At that she pushed up on her hand to beam those always watching green eyes into his. She didn't buy it for a second.

  "I did as a child, not so much now unless something's gone horribly wrong."

  She blinked at that and glanced downward, "Oh, when you were the..."

  "Forgotten bastard son of the King? Yeah, good, good times. All the food I could swipe, free days to roam the countryside falling into every mud puddle, and a warm bed of straw next to a war dog growling in his sleep. The perfect childhood," he chuckled, hiding away any pain behind the veneer of laughter. It was what was, and Alistair didn't have the means to alter it. There seemed little point in dwelling upon it now.

  "I'd feared you were going to tell me that sometimes you trade places with a peasant who bears your exact likeness so you can know what it's like to be a commoner for a day," Reiss said while nuzzling against his chest. She couldn't stop rubbing her hand haphazardly against his shoulder, as if she was trying to measure it for a coat.

  "That ruse doesn't work so well when you've got a dozen armed guards following around the 'common everyday peasant who's new in town and not the King nope, nope. Don't be silly.'"

  "I think the point is to leave all the trappings behind," Reiss sighed.

  "No one told the Prince of Starkhaven that. Right twat he was, barely into adulthood and dead certain he was the Maker's gift to everything. There was one point when he sat down to explain Andraste to me and he called her husband Mouthrat."

  That drew the sexiest snort from Reiss, "Did you correct him?"

  "Of course not, that would be unseemly, telling a Prince he's mistaken. Also it was damn hilarious watching every Andrastian in the chantry groan as he kept droning on and on about Mouthrat. I wish I could have somehow captured that speech to laugh at for weeks later."

  Chuckling at the idea, Reiss unearthed her body stuck tight to his and climbed to kiss him with her tempting lips. Maker's sake, he never ever wanted to stop doing that. To press against her slightly pursed lips, to taste her. Did determination, endurance, and the dawn's crisp light have a flavor? If so, that was her, with the occasional scent of thick armor polish wafting under it. Smelling it roused up his blood from its crypt, while kissing her swaddled his soul down for a perfect nap. The one where no one needs you, the sun's hidden behind the curtains, and someone left a glass of water near the bed in case you get thirsty.

  Sweet Andraste, he just compared a beautiful woman to a nap. Was it any wonder he'd been single for so many years?

  Slipping away, Reiss placed her hand upon his skin and beamed her summery eyes onto him. "What now?"

  "Clothing is probably smart, don't want to give the poor stablehand a heart attack at seeing his King in the altogether," his eyes danced aro
und her face waiting for a groan or patented eye roll the same way everyone suffered him, but she nestled tight to his chest and molded her head against him.

  After a rise and fall, with Alistair trying to comb her hair back and forth, she sighed, "Better make certain we check to see whose is whose before getting dressed. I doubt you'll fit in my tunic, or knickers."

  "That, uh..." the very idea of her knickers, the tiny scrap of fabric that covered her tempting anatomy he was gifted the opportunity to lavish attention on shut off Alistair's brain. He'd had something rather witty for him regarding women's clothing but it poofed like smoke on the wind. Snuggling Reiss tighter to him, he wanted this moment to last forever. The warm summer breeze wafting over his exposed skin while clinging to this beautiful and sharp woman who got him was one of the best days he could remember in a long time.

  "Thank you," she said, not bothering to glance up.

  "For what?" He shifted uncomfortably at that. She was always thanking him for innocuous things, or asking for forgiveness. If Reiss wanted to thank him for his performance, he owed her her own castle with a chocolate waterfall and a pony made out of sugar.

  "For not ripping open my shirt and breaking off the buttons," she smiled, her fingers drawing across the scrawny chest hair he never managed to cultivate beyond a few weed patches.

  "Oh that," Alistair smiled wider while scooping both arms to hold her in a hug, "I know how much of a pain it is sewing buttons back on."

  "Finding them again is my greater concern," she grumbled, reminding Alistair that she'd seen hard times where a solitary button's replacement may represent a missed meal.

  "I admit, I'm not the best at doing the...what do they call it, buckle ripping?"

  Reiss giggled against his skin, her wet lips pressing tighter to him as she gasped for air. "Yes, exactly, ripping those buckles off someone in one go."

  "Must take forever when trying to seduce someone from Tevinter. I think over half their clothing is buckles. If you took one off, the entire square foot of fabric would collapse. Loud as sin when they're trying to eat too."

  They weren't talking about what they had to, what they skipped over before he and she did things that would make the Chantry hurl the Chant of Light as his head. Alistair didn't want to ruin it, and he knew if he let his brain take hold it would. That damn thing was always dredging up duty and his proper place while he wanted to wallow for a few minutes longer in bliss.

  Sighing, he whispered under his breath, "I am never going to hear the end of it from Lanny."

  That caught Reiss' attention, her head lifting right up as she tried to search his face. Alistair was too focused on the ceiling, but he heard a taut thread in her voice as she asked, "Oh? How so?"

  "She was so damn certain that if I just bit down on the stick and talked to you things would work out. I admit I didn't think they'd work out quite that well..." he twisted in the burn rising again through his stomach. Maker's sake, thirty seven years old and he couldn't stop blushing at the idea of sex.

  "Was it," Reiss lifted fully off of him and began to work her fingers around in a knot, "I mean, I don't try to appear too forward and..."

  Sitting up quickly, Alistair pulled her tight, his hands easily wrapping around her back. She didn't fight the hug, but he could feel a frown puckering along her brow pressed to his skin. "That was far from forward. I'd been the one working backwards and sometimes to the side, and...sorry, it's probably weird to learn that the Hero of Ferelden cares about whatever between us."

  "You know," Reiss gasped in his arms.

  "She told me you figured it out, said that she trusted you to honor her secret. But, knowing Lanny she also probably knows that no one's likely to believe a random guard about the Hero suddenly springing to life."

  "They may not even believe you after so many years." Her enticing breath ruffled his chest hair while Alistair's eyes couldn't stop darting down her sculpted shoulders to savor the curve of her breast's side. They were so adorable, like two perky puppy heads... No, that would be even worse than the nap idea. Drop that one off a cliff right now.

  Sliding his hands off the back of her neck and up to her cheek, he tipped her head to him hoping. Reiss caught on quick and answered with a kiss, soft and sweet like a spring wine, which quieted Alistair's soul. He didn't realize how turbulent it'd been as of late, banging its fists against the cage and trying to drive him mad, until her touch calmed it down.

  Dropping his fingers against the small of her back, Alistair mashed his forehead against hers and whispered, "Lanny also mentioned that you asked her if she still loved me."

  "I..." Reiss swallowed deep, a blush burning up her cheeks as she struggled to find the right words. "I did, if that was unbecoming I-- "

  Alistair was quick to interrupt her by kissing the tip of her nose, "No, it's perceptive of you but I'm coming to expect that from a woman who anticipates arrow shots. I'm guessing you want to ask me the same. Or we could talk about breakfast pastries. If it's not at least glazed I don't see the point. Might as well just eat a rock and call it good." He paused in his babble to try and break apart the awkwardness while Reiss fell dangerously silent. And he thought he could survive asking her about their future without leaping out the window? Which, given the fact they're all closed in the kennel wouldn't get him very far.

  "Are you, I mean, I get it. She's...amazing, wonderful, legendary."

  "Also beautiful, pedantic as all get out, will organize your library if you forget to lock it and hide the key, and can store more food in her pockets than a chipmunk with a satchel. Lanny's a lot of things, many of which others don't see, but she's not perfect. And to answer the question I raised, I'm not in love with her. I...think I'll always carry her in my heart. We've been through too much shit to give up on each other, but the other stuff is gone. Washed away and the like."

  "And she's married," Reiss said. Alistair managed to fight down the flinch at that. It didn't bother him, not in the abstract sense as it made her happy, it was just the other half of that contractual arrangement that ground his guts to dust. Stupid templars.

  "Though," Reiss' hands slipped off his neck and landed in her naked nap. Matching her, Alistair tugged his away but had no idea what to do with them. After tugging on his hair he let both land with a thud upon his thighs. "You're married too," she pronounced, her eyes darting over his.

  "Yeah," he sighed, his head falling down. Glaring at the stones of Ferelden, the damn country that never wanted him happy, Alistair nodded, "I am. If that's an issue for you, I'm afraid..."

  She didn't shout out no, nor pat him on the head once with an ill thought out yes. Reiss rocked back and forth on her toned haunches before she sighed, "I'm not sure. I have to think about it."

  "This is probably when I'm supposed to say that my wife and I have an understanding, but I believe that's rule two in the cheater's guidebook."

  "What's rule one?"

  "Never bet on a white horse."

  His nonsense got a small snicker from Reiss. Her eyes stayed focused in the immeasurable distance hovering between them, but her hands lifted off her lap to caress first his knees, then slide down to massage into the thighs. Screwing his sight up, Alistair stared at the ceiling and did his best to think about the time Eamon forced all the old codgers to visit a hot spring. That should keep him from springing up at her touch sliding ever higher along his leg.

  "We should talk about this," she whispered, breaking their long, awkward stalemate.

  "Yeah, I guess we should. Do you want to get dressed before or...?" he gestured to where he was 76% certain he left his pants. Though they could be hers. He was going to have to get better at that after so many years of only having to deal with robes.

  "No, it..." she reached forward to embrace him and snuggled tight to his chest. "This doesn't bother me."

  "But something does," he whispered, his breath scattering her hair. It was so fine, like golden thread used to stitch up doll clothes.

  "I don't kn
ow," she admitted again, the edges of her nose puckering. "Maybe I feel like I should be more bothered by it than I am. You're a human, I'm an elf. You're married, I'm not."

  "You're a royal guard and I'm some dumb idiot they let sit on the big chair."

  "It's a lot to take in at once," she sighed. Her words sounded as if she was trying to talk herself into running, but her body kept pressed tight to his skin. Maker, if Alistair had to do the adult thing and send her away for her sake he'd either crack in half or fail miserably at it.

  "For what little it's worth, I like you, a lot. Enough to have the Hero of Ferelden prod me about it constantly during her visit." At her confused look he elaborated, "Apparently I talk in my sleep. And there were dreams of a...uh, hey, what's the cat up to?"

  Laughing against him, Reiss smoothed up his hair while staring ever higher, "For what it's worth, I like you too."

  Such a simple thing he was made well aware of when the pants went flying, but the admittance drew a bright smile to Alistair's face and a warmth through his old bones. The knee creaked a bit, but it always did that. Holding her cheek, he tugged her for a deep kiss. He savored the tug of her lips almost but not quite pinching against his bottom one. That move threw off all control he had on his lower bit parts, the poky one rising from its happy stupor.

  "I like you," he whispered as the kiss ended.

  "As you already mentioned," Reiss smiled.

  Alistair's brain tripped away at her golden face. Not just her hair, but her entire face, her being seemed to glow as if she was some secret answer that'd been hiding in plain sight. Sweet Andraste, he was in deeper than he realized.

  "Time," shot out of Alistair's fumbling lips. "Take all the time you need to decide, to figure out if you want, or don't want, or however it would work."

  "You're certain you don't want an answer right this minute?"

  He shrugged, "I fear if I force you now, it'd be a no. And if I give you long enough to think it all through it'd also be a no. Lot of no's on the horizon either way and maybe it's best if I try hope for a bit. See if it fits me or..."