"So…" Alistair yanked up a fallen branch, quick to watch a pair of gloved hands try to cram something into a succulent pink mouth. Even with her cheeks bulging like a chipmunks she still looked adorable, her sharp eyes tearing up from both strain and surprise as she turned to him.

"You were the one to steal the last of the cake," he finished with, crossing his arms as if he won a great battle.

"No, no," she tried to plea for her innocence, but a spray of crumbs betrayed her. Clasping a hand to her mouth, Talia's big brown eyes rolled up to his and she loudly swallowed. She didn't lower her hand, but the edges of a smile poked out at both sides, bringing one to Alistair as well.

"I can't help it," Talia confessed, fingers digging into her braided hair to try and tug scraps forward. Some she pulled so far ahead they obscured her face, others snagged behind her long ears. Gulping once more, she admitted, "I was so hungry after the last fight, and…"

"And my lovely dinner wasn't enough?" Alistair scoffed as if she deeply wounded him.

The traveling camp of weirdoes and castoffs straddled around the fire behind them and to the left. Here they were away from the prying eyes but also the smoke to repel all the greedy insects. Talia took up first watch, leaving most of the previously described weirdoes to sit around the fire trying to not catch each other's eye. Alistair grew bored in ten minutes and stalked off to the bushes to find her, where he discovered an even graver secret — the identity of the cake thief. She made off with damn near forty of them already.

Crumbling more than the sweet treats, Talia hunched over on the rotting log she picked for a bench. Her elbows dug into her leather-clad thighs, fingers tenting together as she whispered, "You're not…you won't tell anyone, will you?"

Alistair bent clean over, and then some (she was positively fairy-sized), until his eyes met with her shy ones. With a smile turning radiant upon his lips, he declared, "Never," and dove forward. Talia met him halfway, her frosting-coated lips melting against his. Heat bounced about inside him like an excited puppy, rising from his gut and bursting bubbles up his spine until it found the brain.

They hadn't been at this whole kissing and macking stage for very long, a few weeks maybe. It was hard to tell when the only calendar they had access to was dug into the dirt with a stick. The newness left Alistair sitting on pins and needles for the next taste. He'd fidget endlessly, waiting for her to finish speaking with someone, or to pull her into a private corner in order to envelop his arms around her lithe body and tumble into bliss.

Barely satiated, Alistair pulled back, his lumbar region complaining about the reach. It took a moment for Talia's eyes to open, her glistening lips partially obscured as if she was about to pucker up for another. When she did glance up, a hint of a rosy blush burned over her cheeks. Hard to imagine someone like him could put that there.

"How come," Talia coughed a moment, "how come I never see you ravenous?"

"Discipline," Alistair shrugged, collapsing to the log beside her. It threatened to sunder in half from his greater weight, which caused both Grey Wardens to glare at the crack. With that example, Talia crossed her arms. "What? It takes great discipline to stuff as much breads and cheeses in my gullet as I can before someone spots me. Been training my whole life. Up at dawn, performing stretches, then shoveling in every manner of food I can scrounge up from across the entire estate."

That caused her to laugh. Maker, what that laugh did to him. He'd wear comical pants and paint his face like an Orlesian if it'd get a chuckle from her. Anything to feel that rush of joy exploding through his veins.

"Really?" Talia turned so she could face him. "Because you don't look fat." Her finger prodded through the small layer of armor padding, causing Alistair to skitter back. A dangerous light glinted in her eye, and her attack grew in strength.

"I…I happen to…wear it well," he spat out, trying to dodge her proddings by twisting, but she'd found a fun game. Well, two could play at that.

Lashing out with both hands, Alistair cupped against her waist. Her forest green armor fell flush from his touch, warmer than he'd have expected. For a beat Talia paused, curious to see what he was going to do, when Alistair's fingers began to turn into curious spiders.

"No…" she squirmed, but she couldn't escape the dance of his fingertips up and down her sides. "No. No!" The laugh returned instantly, Talia giggling as he tickled her to pieces. "You're a horrible man!" She gasped, snorting from the laughter as he circled from her trim waist that hid the cake up her ribcage.

In her flailing, her legs starting to rise as if she intended to kick him, another adverse reaction occurred. Alistair kept his hands steady while her chest did not remain so. By twisting to the side, Talia curled a soft cup of flesh into his palm. Sure, there were buckles in the way. Leather. Probably straps and other roguish things. But he was holding it.

A woman's breast. Her breast.

"Oh Maker," Alistair moved to yank his hand away, his hair blushing red, when Talia hooked her legs around his waist. He glanced down at the lock in surprise and he was met by her mischievous eyes.

A pink tongue darted out to lap her lips, her voice dipping lower as she said, "Don't stop."

"As—" He wanted to find a joke, something to diffuse the situation. Make her laugh, put it all back to the way it was and… Blessed Andraste, no he didn't. How bloody often did he lay in his tent wondering what that lithe elf that was their only hope in this world felt like? Looked like…without any knickers on? Far too often for him to ever confess it, that much was sure.

And she's letting you, encouraging you. Stop being an idiot!

Alistair dove for her, his exploring hand remaining where it started while his lips hungered for hers. A spicy heat wafted off her tongue, its wily ways wetting at first his lips then down his chin. Talia drew her teeth together, softly nibbling at the smattering of scruff and causing Alistair's foot to tap erratically on the ground.

Even with the leather and aforementioned buckles in the way, he felt the stirring of a nub growing more pronounced below his palm. That had to be her…Blessed Maker. He may have devoted quite a few hours to wondering what color they were. Size. If he'd ever get a chance to find out.

Talia slipped her palm lower off his shoulder to cup his elbow with the hand lost and alone. Taking control, she guided that forlorn appendage up to her… Right, they came in pairs. The second Alistair's palm cupped against her breast, his fingers took command. They scooped inward, pressing upon the giving flesh below. It was so much more bouncier than he'd imagined.

Young Alistair presumed they were like pillows, all fluff and air like goose down. But this was— Blighted void, this was endlessly better.

With both hands massaging her breasts, Alistair drew his lips to the side of her beautiful neck. Dark hairs tickled his forehead, the downed ones trying to distract him but nothing could as he suckled upon the thin skin. Talia shuddered in his grip, her eyes closed tight as she moaned elvish.

Lapping up a fold of her skin, Alistair scraped his teeth and nuzzled deeper. A warm hand grabbed his head, pulling it even tighter to her beautiful flesh. So much heat radiated off her smooth as silk skin. She tasted of the forest after a cleansing rain, and apples plucked fresh from the tree. At her swooping jawline, Alistair pressed a delicate kiss right before he began to scale her steepled ear with his tongue.

Talia's hand dropped from his hair, her fingers ceasing their sudden brushing. He was about to step back, probably release his never ending coddling of her chest, when she grabbed onto his belt.

"Wait," Alistair ducked his crotch back as fast as a snake strike. "Wait, wait, wait…" With his hands plummeting off of her delectable round bits, he skittered even further away. Those palms that'd been wrapped around two perfect peaches were now trying to hide away the bulge he should have known would get in the way. It had a habit of doing that.

It took a moment for Talia to blink away the stars in her eyes, her head swiveling up to him. "What's the matter? We're alone." She reached for his arm, but Alistair dodged, his brain pumping deadly acid through his soul. Danger danger. Look at what you did!

"Is something," Talia gulped and he heard the worst sound in the world — tears clinging to her eyes. With a sniffle she forced out, "Wrong?"

"Yes," Alistair mumbled, then he shook his head, "No. I mean, not with you. You're…you're so very you. Which is a good thing. Really. It's…I should go. Yep. That's all on me. Not you. Me, really. Going to go now." His body stumbled through the woods sending his ass bouncing against tree trunks. The pain didn't register because his brain could only accept the agony rising in her face.

Stupid. Alistair spun on his feet and dashed for his tent. Stupid, stupid, stupid! He wanted to whack himself in the head a few times, but as he approached the fire, that damn witch cast her piss-yellow eyes his way.

Damn it. She didn't know he just made a colossal fool out of himself, did she? Was she being her usual sneaky witch self? Spying on him stumbling about like the moron she knew him to be? Or did she use her magic to just…know things? Things no one should know!

"Idiot —" Morrigan began, but Alistair was in no mood. All but running so fast he could flatten it, Alistair leapt into his tent and tried to seal the door shut.

What did you do?

Why did you do that?

Pretty girl, who really wanted to…to remove her clothing and then do the thing people do without that in the way. You're supposed to want that.

Maker's breath.

Alistair collapsed to his knees, banging his head into the ground.

He did want it. Dreamed of it. Thought about it so much it was a wonder he could walk straight. But…damn, damn, damn it all!

This was supposed to be easy. Bees did it, birds did it, Zevran practically crowed about it every second he was awake. But of course, it should come as no surprise that the colossal fool of a Warden could muck it all up. Be a man, already. Just ignore that quaking fear in the pit of your stomach you're pretty sure is not remnants of the bean dinner.

What kind of coward is afraid of…it?

Alistair scraped at his cheeks, leaving lines of white flesh in his wake. "This coward," he muttered, when he spotted a shadow arriving outside his tent. It was shapely and short, so probably not Sten's. Holding his breath, he groaned when he heard what he knew was coming.

"Alistair?" Talia asked, his name warbling from the hurt in her voice. "Can, uh, can we talk?"

Scraping himself a few more times as if leaving small red welts down his face would repel her, he sighed, "Sure. Why not? Couldn't get much worse." He tried to whisper that last part to himself, but as Talia's head prodded through the tent gap he gulped from the sting in her eyes. She heard it.

"You, um," she twisted to make certain the tent was closed before taking a knee to avoid the low ceiling. Though, she came in such a tiny package she could probably stand up without worrying. It seemed more to meet Alistair eye to eye, who was trying to hide his shameful gaze anywhere possible.

Damn. Should have put that old templar helmet on. That'd have obscured both his face and the burning pit that had been his cheeks.

"It seemed as if…" Talia worried her poor thighs, the leather crackling from such an abuse. "I thought things were going well, until…" Pinching her eyes tight, she spat out, "Did I do something wrong?"

He shouldn't have but a stupid laugh broke from his throat. She didn't do anything wrong. She couldn't do anything wrong. She was perfect. It was that cursed fool who couldn't stop following her around, stealing glances from across the road, dreaming of her.

Aware that he'd set off on the wrong foot, Alistair tried to reposition and start again. "It isn't you, it's…me. Really. I swear. Cross my crossed thing. Legs?" That sounded more accurate given the situation. Pulling in a deep breath that stung of ash, Alistair confessed the truth, "I've never done that…with anyone."

That surprised her, Talia's face crinkling as she turned to him, "Never done what? Run out on someone?"

"No, no," Alistair shook his head, clinging to anything other than the truth, "if I'm overwhelmed, or forgot to put on pants, or am staring down an entire salivating horde of darkspawn while armed only with a fork I'll happily turn tail and run. It's more…" That you're stalling. She was gonna laugh. No, worse. She'd laugh, then tell everyone so they could all laugh.

Laughs all around.

"I'm, um," he flexed his face, trying to crinkle his honker of a nose so deep inward it'd vanish, "inexperienced with women."

"Inex…?" Talia began, before the shroud of confusion lifted from her eyes. Alistair girded his unused loins, but it wasn't a braying laugh she bathed him in. "Really?" gasped from her lips.

"Uh," his useless hands lifted, his shoulders shrugged, his head bobbed like a boat on the waves, "yeah. Really."

"I just…" Her diamond sharp eyes that he'd catch flickering over his body took their time. As they rounded about his churning gut and down to his aching thighs, she said, "I can't believe it."

Alistair snickered, "Why not? I mean, you know me… That Alistair, always finding himself covered in mud and wondering how he got stuck up that tree in the first place. That's, uh…" Not helping.

"But you're…" she expanded her hands out as if whatever Talia considered obvious would appear between them. "Never? Not even once?"

Maker's breath, why couldn't this have gone, "I'm a virgin?" "You're serious? That's pathetic, leave me alone." Okay, he didn't really want it to take that route, but it'd be far less humiliating than having a girl wonder what his problem was.

What was his problem?

Digging into the back of his neck with both hands, Alistair craned his head up to the ripped canvas roof. "There weren't a lot of opportunities. Abbies aren't known for their rollicking orgies, not unless you get into the wine making ones. It's…"

"So," her soft hand reached out between them and cupped his elbow. It was yet hanging freely in the air, Alistair unable to release himself or look down. No doubt his entire throat was ruby red from the body-sized blush. "It's a matter of you not having the opportunity?"

"Yes," he spat out fast, before gulping. You just had the opportunity before you and ran from it, moron. "Maybe. No? I only, I was raised more…traditionally."

"Nothing until marriage?"

"Not that traditionally," Alistair spat out so fast it brought a flicker of a smile to her lips. His tugged in response, wanting so badly to yank this conversation back to the land of irreverence. But no, he needed to tell her. To explain…once he figured out his reticence for himself.

Closing his eyes, he let his head slump forward, both hands plummeting into his lap. The truth, the real rotten truth buried so deep inside he forgot it even existed was that he was scared. Terrified that he'd, well, be himself. Somehow fail so spectacularly that not only would Talia run from his affections, she'd banish him from the Wardens, from Ferelden. Maybe Thedas itself.

It was like running out into the middle of an Orlesian dance where he didn't know any of the steps, but if he botched a one it'd be off with his head. Not only did he not know that dance, he had no concept of dancing in general and someone knotted his laces together for good measure. Stupid.

He should have just gotten it over with before. There were ladies of purchased affection who'd cozy up to both Templars and Wardens. But no, while his fellows at arms were happy to fork over a few coins for a roll, Alistair abstained. He thought he wanted to be…to care for her, to feel safe enough he could be himself with her. All that did was leave him as unknowledgeable as before, and likely to break his own heart from his stupidity.

"It's…pathetic." His brain stumbled for a joke, any in particular didn't matter how bad it was, while his heart thudded to a crawl. "Like finding a grown man who can't use a spoon. And I don't know how anyone puts up with Oghren in bed or at a table."

"Ali…" From the darkness, her hands scooped around his. They were so tiny in comparison. He'd laughed that she had to use daggers because she couldn't hold a sword in her small grip. Now, as they swaddled the back of his useless hands, she looked the giant.

Slowly, she weaved her calloused fingers through his, locking them together in an embrace. "I don't think it's pathetic."

"You don't?"

"Do you judge me for having already been with others before?" Her voice wavered in the air, fading to almost nothing before reaching the end of her question. They hadn't talked about it, he hadn't thought about it.

He hadn't cared.

"No." Alistair shook his head bringing a grateful smile to her lips.

"Then I afford you the same," she laughed, her soft palm cupping his cheek. It felt cool against his shameful blush, calming the burn. With a gulp, he turned in her grip, his lips brushing against her comforting skin.

"I'm glad you told me," Talia whispered, "because there's no chance I would have ever guessed."

"Really?" he scoffed back, forever confused by her thoughts.

"You should check a looking glass some time," her eyes darted down his chest, which she'd seen stripped clean of all armor on occasion. Usually, as he was peeling out from the washing lake to his tent because there was a kindly nest of hornets who needed to use the place next.

Talia drew her lip in between her teeth and bit down, her eyes burning even by the lowlight. "I like you, Alistair. And I don't mind waiting until you're ready."

Maker's breath, he wanted her.

No, no, you still know about this as much as jamming a stick into a hole. The flutters in your gut, and the sweat building up on your forehead tell a different tale.

"I like you too, Tal." He scooted forward on his knees, his hands swooping around the small of her back. Catching her lips in a kiss, the wasp's nest in his gut transformed into pretty butterflies. Each one flitted up to his heart and perched there, radiating a satiety he didn't think he'd ever know.

With his nose burrowing into her cheek, he spoke with his lips glancing against the side of hers, "Even if I don't deserve you."

"Don't be silly," she playfully swatted at him, a laugh filling her worn face, "you do too, you goof."

Bundling up both her hands in his, Alistair pressed quick kisses to both sets of knuckles, then one for each paired up fingertip. "This goof of yours should probably get some sleep. Big day tomorrow of stabbing, bashing, kicking. Thought I might change it up a bit with a dash disemboweling. You know, to entertain the cheap seats."

Her rich smile soothed the last of his aches, Talia pulling her hands free as she moved towards the tent door, "All right. I'll let you sleep, disemboweler." Pausing before her exit, in a breathy voice she asked, "You will tell me when you're ready?"

Nodding, Alistair raised a finger to his chest, "Cross my heart."

"Good night, Alistair."

The tent flap fluttered shut at her loss, Alistair pressing his fingers that smelled of her to his lips. "Sweet dreams," his eyes swung over to his wadded up bedroll, "because I can guarantee you're going to be in mine."