Chapter 1: A night with the guard

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age, the characters of the game, or any affiliated material. I do not claim anything in this work is decidedly cannon. Bioware owns the rights to Dragon Age and makes decisions regarding its cannon. This disclaimer will only appear on the front page, but applies to the work as a whole.

Author's notes: I tried to keep this piece considerably cannon-realistic despite it's obvious non-cannon elements. This piece assumes the Ser Gilmore mod never existed (and therefore Ser Gilmore never escapes Howe's torture chamber). Hopefully it will be interesting and give an insight into the pressure felt by a (closeted) male Cousland and any potential lover. This is my first fanfic, though not my first experience with writing, so input is welcome.

A note on requests: Please feel free to contact me for any reason, including for requests. To clarify, I mean that you should feel free to request certain information, certain story elements (i.e. "more action", "more angst", "get on with it"), or certain developments. I cannot guarantee that I will comply, but I will make every effort to ensure that reasonable requests are granted.

A note on dates: I have included dates in some instances to lend an air of authenticity to the work. I have made every effort to ensure the timeline is congruent and the dating system is accurate, but apologize in advance for any issues that may arise.

A note on notes: Most of my chapters will not have this great a volume of notes. I thank you for your patience with them when they are numerous.

Rated M for Lemons

This is a republication of this work. I deleted this work under another name during a fit of mania. Now that I am medicated and better I will republish and hopefully complete this work. I will take this opportunity to edit and extend the work when possible.

-O-

"The Teyrn has said we are to march north to the coast by the end of the week. It's nothing glorious, of course, but it is your own commission," started Ser Roland Gilmore, at a most inappropriate time.

Aedan groaned. He pulled down the blanket that had been draped over the other man and popped his head out from under its folds. He looked to his lover with a clenched jaw and a bitter expression "Andraste's Sword, Rory!" he groaned, "I know how important you find duty but do you think, just maybe, you could avoid talking about my father when my head's between your legs?"

"Sorry M-" Rory began to apologize, though he was cut off by a further aggravated Aedan Cousland.

"Andraste's argg" Aedan groaned, not even able to finish the expletive, "if you call me your lord right now, by the Maker I'm putting my clothes on and walking out of this room, seriously."

"Sorry, old habit" Rory sighed lightly, as he realised that all his talking was making the situation rather awkward.

With so few chances to explore his lover in the lack-of-privacy that was Cousland castle, Aedan refused to let this opportunity pass him by, despite his aggravation. He regained his composure and pulled himself up, leaning over Rory as he looked longingly into the other's eyes. Aedan's hand traced its way, slowly, to where his lips had been. "I much prefer your habit of sneaking into my room and laying with me, gorgeous" he whispered into the other's ear, his sultry voice acting more as a sensation of lust than a sound. He leaned in and kissed the other gently. His fingers wrapped around Rory's manhood and began their work. He pulled away and flashed a wicked smile, one that was used far too often and rarely meant as much as it did when he was with his lover. "Now," Aedan began as he leaned back in to bite at the other's earlobe gently "stop thinking so much."

Despite his sense of duty often getting in the way of his fun, Rory needed no more encouragement than Aedan's words moving through him like a gloriously pleasant poison of the mind. Rory sat himself up slowly and took charge, pushing Aedan to the bed beneath him before he positioned himself over the other man and began to return the kisses he'd been getting. For his part, Aedan was finally able to stop thinking. He could stop thinking about his father, his mockery of a military career, and all the women he had to flirt with for the sake of saving face. He was able to melt into the bed and allow himself to be taken over by the sensation of Rory's lips against his, the man's worn hands against his flesh and, before long, the sensation of their manhoods running against each other tauntingly, teasingly. His attention became entirely focused on the pleasure he was receiving, and his seemingly insatiable craving for more.

Rory slowly kissed down Aedan's chiseled form. Despite their youth, both men had been training long enough that every inch of both bodies seemed sculpted into place like an Orzammar statue. Aedan's eyes almost rolled back as he let a soft moan escape, both in pleasure at the feeling, and in expectation of what was to come. His expectations were met and exceeded, as always, when Rory's lips wrapped around his manhood and began the same work Aedan had abandoned at the earlier interruption. He moaned louder, glad once again for heavy stone walls and noise muffling doors. Within minutes, he was so close to finishing that it was almost painful to pry Rory from his nether parts and pull him back up to be level with him.

"Is something wrong?" Rory asked through hard, long kisses and heavy breath.

"Nothing" Aedan answered softly, smiling and chewing on his bottom lip slightly, "but I want to take you" and again the smile turned wicked, almost mischievous.

Taking the cue, Rory laid back, allowing the other to position himself on top of him. Despite his compliance, he couldn't help but pull the Aedan in forcefully for a kiss, as if to prove he could still command the other. Aedan always loved how even compliance was a battle with his lover, and he moaned blissfully into the kiss even as he pulled the other's legs to hang on his hips. He let himself remain enthralled in the kiss, supporting himself with one arm as he positioned himself teasingly against the other's entrance, and took once again to running his fingers against the other's hard length. Still, he waited to do more, teasing the other tortuously until he finally heard Rory's voice, almost pleading as it whispered "take me." Aedan pushed himself beyond the precipice and his hand gained a rhythm in its thrusts against Rory's shaft, moans escaping both their lips as they lost themselves in each other, in the ecstasy of the all too fleeting moment.

It could not last, of course. Both muffled sounds of coming when the time inevitably arrived and they shared few kisses before their armor was put solidly back in place, and the masks worn outside those walls had to be forced back on their faces. Still, those fleeting moments were precious, and they made up the only truth in Aedan's life of lies and secrecy.

The Journal of Aedan Cousland

9:30 Dragon—Seventh of Guardian

Despite my lover's constant reminders of the life outside my chamber walls, I cannot help but be lost in the time we share together. I understand that both our responsibilities would keep anything significant from developing between the guard and I, both for the obvious reason that my lover is a guard and for the reason I must keep away from paper. Still, it is refreshing to fantasise, to pretend that someone in my position has the right to love whomever, and enjoy whatever company. Still, we are hardly Orlesians, and one must return to reality and face one's duties, even as a second son with no true purpose beyond that of an insurance policy less the heir does not fill his own shoes. Mother and Father would never say as much but I believe it is all too clear that Fergus is the necessary son and Oren the next in line. My position is one of duty and secrets with no real benefits. But those eyes, those hands, those lips—they are worth every moment of secret, no matter how seldom I feel them upon me.