His tone was husky and deep with desire, like molten lava overflowing, when into her ear he breathed the words, "You're sure this is what you want, Kadan?"

In contrast she trembled, a helpless bystander in the face of an erupting volcano. "Y-yes. Please. Yes."

His hand around her wrist was hot and firm, so broad that his fingers could touch the heel of his hand. "Then I suggest you finish your ale, Inquisitor." Her title hung in the electrically charged air between them. Her throat operating at its top speed, she swallowed the rest of the ale, her eyes watering from the sting of carbonation. Wiping her eyes free she stood, his hand never leaving her wrist as he rose with her and guiding them away, away from the music and the babble, away from the dark cloud which eternally followed the Inquisition in the face of the end of the world.

The air was stiff with silence as she followed him, mindlessly, awaiting what he would show her, teach her.

Before, they had joined; but not like this, never like this.

Her feet nearly left her boots when they were alone, in his room, and the door slammed behind her. The room smelled of him: musk, oil, metal, and faintly, sage.

Not yet had his hand left her wrist.

His hulking, yet comforting, mass was before her, her eyes level with his scarred chest. One day, she would inquire as to the origin of each scar; today, however, was not that day.

His breath into her ear was hot, setting the hair beside it aflutter. "What is your safe word, Kadan?"

The word that came to her mind was the smell that overwhelmed her, emitting from his hot breath. "Whiskey."

"Whiskey," he repeated in an amused tone. He bent low so that his one eye could meet her pair; he kissed her, chastely, on each cheek.

But after that pair of kisses, any notion of chastity was gone. Rough, wide hands grabbed her shoulders and pushed her against the wall. Hungry lips crushed against her own as those hands slid hers up the wall, pinning her in place. Her hips lifted but he pushed them back into place with a thrust of his own; when she moaned, he pushed both her hands into one of his and, pulling away from the kiss, rested one finger on her lips.

His voice was commanding, strong; many times had she heard it on the battlefield, but never before in their shared solitude. "When we are out there, you are the boss. When we are in here, I am." He pushed her hips, harder, against the wall, and she wordlessly watched him with wide eyes. "You must do as I say. You may only speak when I say so and you may only come when I say so. Have I made myself very clear?"

The rules were set. She nodded, once, firmly, and before an iota of thought could enter her mind he was against her again, rough lips, rougher hands, cupping a breast, clamping a soft inch of skin between teeth. By her hips he lifted her, his hardness becoming evident as she wrapped her legs around him, barely able to hook her feet around his hips.

"Bed," he growled, resting her on her feet again. "Now."

How could anyone have the willpower to say no to such a request?

Before she could sit, he said, "On your knees. Remove your top. Hands behind your back."

She obliged to his request — his demand — and awaited him eagerly on the edge of his low bed. From his dresser he pulled out two black cloths; one he used to cover her eyes, knotting it behind her head, cautious of her hair, and the other he used to secure her hands, capturing a nipple in his warm mouth and murmuring in her ear that she was a "good girl" when she remained still.

Deprived of her sight and touch, she relied on sound and smell to track him. For a time that stretched to an eternity he stalked around the room before she heard the thump of his drawers hitting the floor.

She felt the heat of his body before her, and she could smell the musk of his cock before she felt the tip graze her lips. Parting them, he swiftly filled her mouth, and she suppressed the moan that rose in her throat as she tasted the salty sweetness that was so distinctly him.

Deep in his throat he groaned as he began to thrust in and out of her moist mouth. Never did he go too deep or too quickly; he remained well within the boundaries that had been drawn from experience. One of his hands reached for her long black locks and his fingers weaved within them, scraping along her scalp; the other he used to cup a perky breast, massaging gently.

When he was ready he slid himself out of her lips, slowly, reveling in the pop her lips made when her mouth was once again empty.

After only a moment, those hands that she had come to love were on her; he flipped her so that she was resting on her shins and lowered her torso until the front of her shoulders were on his pillow.

She was malleable, putty in his hands, awaiting him to fill his next desire with her.

Her drawers and smalls were pulled down to her knees; he lifted her legs, one by one, until she was bare before him.

He kissed her; from the back of her shoulder, up her spine, across her round ass and down her thigh. Running his hands up the inside of her thighs he spread her, her wetness awaiting him.

Lowering his face to her womanhood he spoke, the depth reverberating through her, "You've been very good, Kadan. So good, I think I should reward you. Would you like that?"

Simultaneously she inhaled and spoke, "Yes."

His wide tongue trailed a path up one thigh and then another. He then searched across her pink lips and delved into her womanhood, her spine stiffening as he did. No noise would escape her, however, until he said that she could.

He did his very best to make her break his rule.

Finally, agonizingly, after her wetness was nearly dripping, his tongue found her pearl and began to work it in slow circles, sending wave after wave of electricity through her core. One finger slipped inside her slick wetness, disappearing and reappearing, moving in a dance with his tongue. When she believed that her nerves could take no more, his other hand cupped her ass and began to draw lazy circles at her entrance. Involuntarily, her hips bucked and every nerve seemed to freeze on edge. A languid, slow moan escaped her lips that were swollen from being kneaded by her teeth, and the hand that had been cupping her ass pulled away to spank it.

"Did I say you could come yet?"

"N-no."

He spanked her again.

She loved it.

With even more voracity he resumed; his tongue flicking across her pearl, two of his fingers slipping inside her wetness, and one slick with saliva slipping inside her entrance.

"B…b…." No words came out as she clamped down on her lip again. The heat in her core was reaching a nearly unbearable level, and although she held herself together as well as she could, it was growing out of her control, she needed to explode, the heat needed to escape, to set her veins alight, to —

"Come."

One word, gruffly uttered, and she was undone. She cried his name aloud as wave after wave of sensation berated through her, leaving her gasping and trembling. With one long swipe of his tongue he cleaned away all her juices, and she shivered in response.

"Don't move," he whispered, husky again. He lifted himself to his feet and ran his hands over her sides, her hips, her ass.

Her entrance was so slick that he nearly slipped away; but when he found purchase he slid in, deep, and she threw her head back and cried his name again, earning her another spank.

He began slow, but the sight of her, hands bound, eyes covered, was too great for his willpower. He grabbed her hair and pulled, using the leverage to bend himself low, his teeth coming down on the soft curve of her ear.

"Do you like when I'm rough?" He asked, his voice breathy. Before his question had entirely left his mouth she gasped out a "yes". He drove into her, hard, biting a line down her back.

To her, there was nothing but his cock inside of her. Without her vision he felt amplified, taking over every deprived sense, and before she could think he was fucking her even harder, his pace almost frantic. The heat in her core built again, threatening to overwhelm her. A deep growl ripped from his throat and his hand came down on her ass again, spanking her, harder, and the cry of the word "again!" left her lips before her mind realized that it was exactly what she wanted. When he spanked her once more it was a jolt of sensation directly to the heat building up in her core and it was spreading out, out, from her middle to her limbs to her fingertips and toes. She was shouting, she realized, his name and "yes" and "please" and "Maker" and perhaps something else but she didn't know, she wasn't sure, it was garbled because everything felt so good. He was fucking her so quickly, with such need it bordered on desperation, and he was shouting her name, and she was shouting his, and once again she was coming as she felt him spill inside of her.

"B…Bull…"

"Shh…" he whispered, tender now. As swiftly as he could he was pulling out of her, untying her hands, uncovering her eyes, gently rolling her onto her side so that he could curl up behind her.

She was tired, her eyes and limbs so heavy, as he used a clean cloth to wipe down the both of them. He began to massage her back in slow, languid circles.

"Was everything ok?" All aggression was gone from his tone, replaced with kindness and concern.

"More than ok," she breathed, smiling.

"Should we do it again?"

"Maker, yes!" Suddenly she was laughing, and he was laughing, and all the tension in her muscles and soul dissipated in the care of his tender hands and kisses.

"Thank you," she whispered, the smile not leaving her lips even as she slipped into the warm arms of sleep.