A/N: I'm not very good at writing smexy things, but to be safe, I will change the ratings to M. Feeling most vulnerable about the hotness, but I hope you enjoy! As ever, thank you for reading, subscribing and of course, reviewing!

Chapter 9: The finale act

And there they were, divesting each other of their— garments, with haste, and no heed to the rest of the world. Sten's bronze skin shone with the light of the moon, gleaming with perspiration, outlined against the sky, the sight of his taut, muscled form drew very appreciative thoughts in her mind. But there still was something that held her back—that demanded her notice, before she lost her voice of reason completely. When both qunari had described the act as unpleasant, she had not expected this. Sten seemed altogether too concerned for her well-being, gingerly—tenderly brushing his fingers over her skin, though this control too could not last. Kiera admitted that her curiosity of the qunari's definition of the act had created for her thoughts of violence, unrestrained strength and even bodily damage—and all these overturned when the man who beheld her now with such need in his eyes stopped, taking in her very naked body.

"Yes? See anything you like?" She grinned as that familiar furrow began in his brow. He remained silent, reaching over, scooping her off the boulder, moving them deeper into the trees.

His replying mumble surprised her, that he had considered quite so much in that moment. "The sand grains will be uncomfortable." Huh. She had not thought of that.

The sound of the waves retreated, but the salty smell of the sea hung crisp around them; they were not far from the stretch of glowing sand. He had laid her on a patch of large leafed vegetation, having determined that their current surroundings were clear of even more potentially harmful things. Even in this advanced state of arousal, she saw—did he care for such things, where most would definitely be distracted by now. His eyes fell upon her again, and he leaned in close, smoothing firm hands over her numerous scars, even as his lips were at her breast, the tender flicks of his tongue causing her breathing to grow uneven again, gasping when the graze of his teeth excited her—and she unloosed a moan. That sound caused Sten to freeze—tense again as he raised his head once more.

"Kadan," He began, the strangled tone and equally tortured look forcing her mind into one of clarity. "I do not wish to hurt you."

"You won't." She let her hand move down the length of his abdomen, before coating her hand in a healing glow. "Saarebas, remember? I will mend." But the lilac pupils did not seem any surer, and Kiera decided. She slipped one hand, lower, running her fingers over a very singular part of him, and he reacted with a shuddering sigh—a half-growl that reflected the eager throbbing. Kiera claimed his thin lips again, these that once were always disapproving, feeling them meet the other half-way, hungrily, lustfully, sharing a moment where their bodies seemed to meld, together.

He moved his hips, slowly, thrusting deeply and she felt a wave of ecstasy, of him filling her, and soon their rhythm matched, as did the beat of their hearts. His weight was a tender press—reassuring in his bulk, drawing images of the countless battles where they fought side by side. The power that lay beneath the armor always intrigued her, though she had signed those off as moments of stupidity. But she saw things now, with such lucidity, each bead of sweat that fell from their exertions, splashing against the ground, mixed with the dew which grew on the leaves—and Kiera felt that time had slowed, for her—and she wondered why it never had before. Her heightened senses made it clear that he had always been there, all along. And he was here, too. Their combined gasps, the shivering arch of her body, the way he felt pressed against her, the strength he so displayed as he lifted her clean off the ground, angling her in a manner so he would fill her more deeply, though still taking great pains not to injure, reacting to each tremble in her limbs. Her human body made him fear hurting her.

This had to stop, Kiera knew.

She was made not of glass, nor was he allowed to treat her like so, in their act of passion. "Sten—" she hissed, tilting his chin so she could have his attention. "I will not snap like a twig— just let go of that—" before he assented mid-speech and his actions became hurried— he pushed her back against the trunk of a tree for leverage. His breaths came more rapidly, as did hers, and she knew that they were both close. And when it finally did, she dug her fingers into his shoulders, riding the momentum that had carried them thus far— before the crash of pure ecstasy overcame them both, and they cried out in pleasure at the release. It was a long spill, a wash of bliss that did not end immediately, rather, continued in an unending, very satisfying throb of their passions.

Their lips met again, devouring and feeding, the conclusion of their act. Their demonstration.

For a long, breathless while he remained above her, his forehead touched against hers as he whispered something. Asala. Fingers brushing her swollen lips and tender parts. Breaths they shared, as their bodies lay intertwined. It was a long time before Sten spoke again, but while it lasted, it had been a comfortable silence, one that had her nestled against his chest, idly tasting the salt on his warm, warm skin. The swash of the waves soothed, as did the sky that was an endless expanse, the twinkling of stars and future promise.

"It is as you say—ironic, kadan."

She turned her head, meeting his eyes. She had formed her own conclusions in the time after, something that she felt had explained the qunari treatment of the act, and was certain that he did, too.

Bashful, even now— that look contained his hesitance—and she knew why her companion had rarely cast an eye in Morrigan's direction while they travelled together; having found the witch's state of undress both wanton and distasteful. This was the reason why the qunari found the act quite so repugnant, because it was the single-most action that took bodily desire—lust, making it out to be the uncontrollable expression of a physical function that should serve little purpose beyond breeding. A utility that instilled more teachings in favour of the Qun.

Their people had been taught to fear such aimless copulation, such an investment of emotion and trust that did not contribute to the collective whole that was the Qun. One could be hardly trusted to place the Qun above a significant emotional and physical connection with a significant other, and hence its teachings renounce the link of the two, becoming one only with the Qun.

It was a much less complicated system, when one separated affection from bodily pleasures—if quite strange and terrible to those like her.

She cupped his face with both hands, very tenderly. Her arms felt weak from their exertions—but it was all worth it. "What's ironic?"

"That it was you who had returned my blade, Asala."

This confused her; perhaps Sten did not fully grasp the meaning of the term. "And how is it ironic?"

"That you seem to have stolen it, again." The now-familiar smile curled, a true mirth appearing.

Now this, she did not understand. Was it a private joke? "What?"

"You have replaced it—my soul." Sten kissed her, just once more.

P.S.: It's official. If Bioware insists on making the Qunari unromanceable... I'm calling them racists.

Hope you enjoyed reading!