Dragon Age Temptation Eyes

**A/N: **NSFW** **_This is for icey-cold whose suggestion just wouldn't let me alone until I wrote this. And yes, I think Ser Bryant has the sexiest eyes in all of Dragon Age, but you probably guessed that._

**Temptation Eyes**

The first time she saw him she was soaking wet and the right sleeve of her robe was missing as a result of a fire spell gone awry. Well, the missing sleeve was the result of the young apprentice's wayward spell. The soaking wet garment was the result of a hasty and overpowered water spell Joss cast to put the sleeve out. As she was still learning how much fire and how much ice to mix for that spell, it tended to be messy. That's what she got for helping out Kinnon by teaching his class while he nursed a hangover.

Apparently her loud and colorful curses had attracted someone's attention and the visiting templar came into the classroom to investigate. There was more than a bit of humor in his expression, and he was too good looking to be human. She sent him a cheeky grin.

"Believe me, demons don't know how to curse like that, they lack any real imagination," she reassured him, pushing her wet hair out of her eyes.

Ser Bryant let his smile drift across his face as he studied her with eyes that were penetrating and shadowed. He let his eyes travel to her sleeve and back up to her drenched smile before he bowed slightly and left without a word. Joss couldn't have stopped herself from watching his powerful form as he walked away if she'd wanted to, which she most definitely did not. For a man so tall and well built, he moved with the grace and assurance of a dancer.

The second time she saw Ser Bryant was early the following morning. Dawn was still hours away and Josslyn, wearing only a bed sheet and a rather guilty smile, was creeping quietly down the hall, heading back to her room. Her feet were bare, her hair a tangled mess and her attitude mellow.

Again, he stared at her with those dark, mesmerizing eyes that said much and missed little. His arms were folded and his eyebrow, the color of a raven's wing, was quirked. There was only a hint of a smile, but it was all Joss needed to see to realize she was not in trouble. She hadn't actually been doing more than sitting up with Petra discussing men and magic and the uses for both, preferably together. Still, it was much too late for her to be walking the halls, especially in just a sheet.

"Don't mind me, I sleep walk," she proclaimed, eyes wide and guileless. She hoped. He might even have believed her had she been on the correct floor. She pulled the sheet around her more securely and kept her smile in place.

"I'm sure that's not all you do in your _sleep_," the amused templar replied and insisted on escorting her back to her room. Unsurprisingly, Joss didn't mind being under his watchful gaze. At. All. In fact, she was tempted to take the long way back to her room because she found his voice did the queerest things to her stomach, but queer in a good way. And his eyes made her want to do naughty, naughty things to him.

The third time she saw him was later that morning. She was called to the Harrowing Chamber to meet a templar observer, sent by the Grand Cleric in Denerim. The Grand Cleric was not all that happy with the notion of mages walking around in the Fade. Apparently the Grand Old Dame - Petra called her GOD when they talked about the Grand Cleric - actually believed a group of Tevinter Magister's had defiled the Golden City and she did not want another mage to bring about some new form of punishment. Especially not someone from the Circle of Magi in Ferelden and most especially not while _she_ was the Grand Cleric.

Joss stood looking at the tall, dark and handsome templar, unable to hide her delighted grin. Desmond, her usual templar escort into the Fade, was rather plain in both demeanor and looks and he never really enjoyed exploring the Fadescape. He was the kind of person everyone liked but nobody fell in love with. Ser Bryant was _not _that way. At. All.

His heavy lidded eyes, surrounded by surprisingly thick dark lashes, were brown with gold and amber flecks. They seemed to look right into her soul. His dark hair, long and neatly braided away from his face, begged her fingers to sift through it. She was sure it would be soft and silky against her skin. His finely chiseled jaw and cleft chin invited her mouth to explore them. And even in his bulky plate it was obvious the man was fit and firm. But it was his voice that made her shiver; a deep and resonant timbre that seemed to caress her; soft and compassionate but with a perfect overtone of confidence. And it was his eyes that made her weak at the knees with want. Oh yes, she would happily find a linen closet with him. He, however, was all business. Damn it.

His eyes, as he studied her, were full of a lively curiosity as she explained what he would experience when she pulled them into the Fade. Their first trip was brief, just a breaking in so that he became used to the sensation. She would have preferred it to be longer because she found she really enjoyed his presence. He exuded a quiet confidence and smoldering sexuality that she found appealing. _Very_ appealing.

Weeks of demon hunting passed and they became comfortable together, traversing the Fade and killing demons. She was trying to discover how demons and spirits differed in their thinking and behavior; he was trying to map the domains of the demons they encountered. She wasn't sure exactly why he was doing that. The Fade was in a constant state of flux, changing at the whim of dreamers and demons alike so any mapping he did wasn't going to be accurate, but she didn't question him because she was too happy in his company. The only thing that stayed constant was what everyone called the Black City, an island floating above the Fadescape, always constant and always the same distance away. As it was unapproachable and as Joss didn't truly believe the Golden City/Black City nonsense, she tended to ignore it. Her theory was that a particularly powerful demon resided there. She wasn't in a hurry to test her theory.

Petra, who was also trying to catch his eye, plopped down on Josslyn's bed one night with a heavy sigh. "It's his eyes," she said. "They tempt you to be forward and then when you are he just looks at you politely and smiles that gorgeous smile of his. I want to hate him."

"I know what you mean. His eyes say one thing but everything else about him says another."

"How can you work so closely with him and not go crazy? Or crazier than you already are, I mean."

Joss grinned. "It's my foolish optimism that he'll finally see what a beautiful and desirable woman I am and sweep me off my feet," she answered, her grin widening. If only he saw her as more than just a curiosity or laboratory experiment.

Weeks turned into three months as they continued their exploration. Sooner or later he would be recalled to Denerim but for the time being, Joss felt a particular sense of proprietary pride in walking the Fade with him. She tried, as difficult as it was, to be professional and not show him just how much she wanted to share linen closets with him. It was not easy. At. All.

After a particularly grueling and depressing Fade trip, Joss and Aerin Bryant left the Harrowing Chamber and went in search of dinner, but it was later than they realized. The dining hall was dark and empty. A minute later they stood in the equally dark and empty kitchen and she lit one of the lamps with a quick spell.

She looked at Aerin, standing in the soft glow of the lamp and wondered if the whimper of want that raced through her had been vocalized. There were times, after a lengthy Fade Walk, when she was disoriented and had trouble distinguishing between reality and dreams. The phenomenon was rare and not altogether unpleasant but when it occurred it was difficult for her to differentiate between the two worlds. Sometimes, in extreme cases, she had to have a templar smite her just to snap the connection and bring her back to reality, leaving her as weak and helpless as a baby.

She set to work putting the kettle on the fire and pulling plates and cups down, setting the tea canister and honey pot on the counter and looking around for something to eat. But her eyes kept returning to the man who was with her. And he was looking at her with that smoldering intensity that made her stomach dip and her blood heat up. Maker's madness, he looked like the best meal in the place.

"Why are you doing that?" Aerin asked suddenly, moving closer and peering at her.

Joss looked around, expecting someone else to be there. They were alone in the long shadows of the kitchen. He was obviously talking to her. But what about? Had she missed some important conversational clue? Was she drooling again? She touched her mouth with her fingers. No drool. That was a relief.

"Doing what?" she finally asked, feeling absurdly self-conscious as she stood there waiting for a response while feeling positive she didn't want to hear it.

"Looking at me like I'm a feast and you're a starving woman."

Andraste's hairy chin! Did the man have no idea that most of the females in the tower were swooning over him and that an equal number entertained highly erotic fantasies starring the swarthy templar? Was he blind or something?

Of course she couldn't very well tell him that. Oh Maker's ass, she hadn't said that out loud, had she? He was giving her an odd look, his brows drawn together. One of his amused smiles flashed across his face. He was waiting for a response.

"Because I missed lunch and dinner and right now even a templar looks appetizing," she finally replied, rather proud that she'd come up with any answer other than the truth because the truth was that he looked like a feast and she was a starving woman who would gladly gobble him up.

To her surprise, Aerin looked faintly disappointed. "Ah, that would account for it then."

Maybe she was hallucinating? Maybe she still hadn't made it out of the Fade yet? He couldn't possibly want to find a linen closet with her, she was sure. Well, mostly sure.

"Of course, given the choice, you would be my preferred meal," she said and promptly clapped a hand over her mouth. She had not, had NOT said that out loud. Had she? Maker's hairy balls! Just die you idiot, she told herself. Of course she didn't listen to herself. She never did.

Aerin Bryant had either heard her because she had spoken out loud or because they were still in the Fade where incautious thoughts could translate into huge amounts of embarrassment. He was trying very hard not to smile at her but his eyes, those wonderful warm eyes, were sending signals to her and her body was more than happy to respond.

"Smite me," she instructed suddenly, her tone announcing her panic for one and all to hear.

Aerin raised his brow again and his smile deepened. "Excuse me?"

"Smite me, smite me, smite me," she chanted, sure she was stuck in the Fade now. "It will wake me up."

Instead, he leaned over and brushed his lips softly against hers. "No Fade," he said in a husky voice.

"Oh. I knew that," she replied and promptly returned his kiss with one of her own; less a brush of lips than a full frontal assault.

Everywhere he touched left a trail of heat behind, her skin glowing from the warmth. They were fumbling with their clothing, with each other's clothing, and their lips refused to part for more than a few seconds. She was pretty sure she could climax just kissing him because he knew how to kiss; urgently, with teeth and tongue and lips.

With a shrug of shoulders and twist of her hips, her unlaced robe slid down her body and she stepped out of it. His fingers curled around her small clothes and with a soft ripping sound, they too disappeared. She couldn't have stopped the moan if she'd wanted to. Not that she did. His hands encircled her waist and he hoisted her, with flattering ease, onto the counter. She found herself wrapping her legs around him and pulling him closer, the feel of his toned body sending a rush of dampness to her.

Of course she wanted to know why it had taken him so long to figure it all out but that meant resisting his kiss for precious seconds and she knew from experience that wasting time was a bad idea. Privacy was in short supply, time even more so. She pushed the thoughts away and let her fingers pull on his neat little braids until the sweep of his silky dark hair brushed against her neck as he kissed her. That was enough to send even more heat through her and she moaned into his mouth, her fingers tangling in his hair as she urged him closer.

He finally stepped back so they could both catch their breath and then he moved in again, his dark head bent over her breasts, his tongue flicking out and guiding her pebbled nipple into his mouth. More heat and a delicious tickling sensation as his hair brushed against the valley between her breasts. Her legs tightened around his waist reflexively as he blew gently on her dampened nipples.

"I need," Joss began and then fell silent as he raised his head and met her lust-painted gaze.

"What? What do you need?" he asked in a voice gone husky with want.

"You," she whispered and gasped as she felt a finger trace along her swollen heat and slide in to her waiting warmth. Her back arched into his probing finger and she cupped his cheeks, pulling him in for another kiss.

His erection rubbed along her oversensitive skin as he leaned in for the kiss, his finger joined by another as he teased her. Every nerve was jumping and snapping to life, electrifying her blood. She reached out to wrap a hand around his engorged flesh and let the warm caress of a spirit spell flow into it. His groan warmed her neck and his fingers stilled in their exploration of her wet heat. She moved to cup his balls, allowing another spell, with a hint of electricity in it, to dance along her palm and wrap around his sac. He growled, his soft kisses along her neck becoming urgent nips.

"I need," he growled and she felt his shaft throb restlessly.

"What? What do you need?" she breathed against his mouth.

"You," he whispered and bit her lower lip.

"Then take me," she replied, her hands sweeping along the hard muscles of his back.

It was inevitable that she would knock over the honey pot but she paid it no heed as Aerin pulled her closer to the edge of the counter, gently pushing her legs apart. With a quick, hard thrust he penetrated her and she made an odd mewling sound because it felt incredibly good after waiting so long for it.

He planted his hands on the counter on either side of her, to brace himself, she assumed. Her pace was frantic from the pent up desire that was uncoiling and rippling through her. She felt his finger tracing along her hard nub and if he hadn't captured her mouth with his, the entire tower would have heard her as her climax crashed through her, around her, over her, wave after intense wave. He was holding himself back, she knew it, but was powerless to do more than ride out her orgasm at the moment.

After long, shuddering, twitching moments, she returned to her body, her walls still vibrating as they held on to his hot shaft.

"It seems a shame to waste the honey," he whispered against her ear and she shivered as the tickle of his breath stirred her blood.

With firm and gentle hands, he pushed her back until she was resting against the wall without her thighs losing their firm grip on him. With deliberate slowness and a wicked gleam in his eyes, he dipped his finger into the growing pool of honey and drizzled it over her breast before bending to lick it off with painful slowness. He leaned in, offering his finger and her mouth gladly accepted the invitation, closing around his finger and sucking slowly, her tongue swirling around his finger. She felt the reflexive jump of his cock inside her as she released his finger.

Once again he dipped into the honey and this time he trailed it down her stomach and rubbed softly at her bud, sending hot curls of pleasure through her. Her muscles gripped his shaft tightly as her blood pooled in her and began to spread, just like the honey he was teasing her with.

Any control the templar had departed with that and he pulled her close again, lifting her to ride on his hot, hard cock, his eyes never leaving hers. His pace quickened and she could feel the tension in his muscles mounting as his release raced towards him. She let her fingers drift down and cup his sac again. Another, stronger, current flowed from her palm into him and then he was plummeting over the edge, his lips whispering incoherent words into her mouth.

They rested, leaning into each other as he settled her once more on the counter, their breath coming out in gasping little pants, their skin slick with a fine sheen of sweat.

"Still hungry?" he asked after long moments.

She was indeed. She promptly showed him what she was hungry for.

In the morning the cook complained loudly about her messy kitchen and the mysterious disappearance of an entire pot of honey.


End file.
