Here's chapter one guys, the Sten and your lovely lady Cousland in a sultry entanglement. Enjoy and be sure to comment to let me know your favorite pairs for me to work on next!

Amara Cousland dropped her dagger belt to the ground and fell heavily to the log bench by the fire. Her calloused fingers reached up to massage her temples absently as she contemplated recent events. Redcliff had been a disaster. After ruling that the circle tower was too far away to leave and come back in time to save the castle, Amara had allowed the arlessa to sacrifice herself in a blood ritual to save her son's life. It had worked in the end, after a grueling trip through the Fade. But Alistair was wrought with depression. He'd insisted that there must have been a way to keep everyone alive. And yet, Amara reasoned, at least she hadn't allowed the child to die. Before leaving her home in Highever her own mother had done nearly the same for her, a sacrifice Amara would forever mourn but understood the necessity of.

Resilient to reason, Alistair was brooding on the other side of camp. The newest warden relinquished her face into her hands, resting on her knees. There was precious little time to begin with; she had no leisure to play therapist for Alistair when they had yet to seek the support of the Dalish and Orzammar.

The clink of plate armor drifted over the popping of the fire, accompanied by the heavy scent of cumin and spice. The metal-on-metal clicks stopped abruptly a few feet behind her right shoulder.

"Something troubles you, imekari." Sten rumbled. A few more metallic scrapes signaled the giant folding his arms. Amara would normally bristle at the warrior calling her a child but she had no energy to dispute the difference between size and age. While she was in little mood for company, at the very least she could handle Sten's straight-forward logic and to-the-point sentences as opposed to Alistair's long-winded laments and emotional arguments. She sighed quietly.

"Unnecessary death troubles me. I fear Alistair may be right." She admitted, lifting her face to gaze through the fire to the opposite side of the clearing where the warden templar sat cleaning his shield.

Sten grunted his understanding. "The warden allows feelings to cloud his judgment."

"Has that never happened to you?" Amara questioned, glancing over her shoulder at the statue of a qunari.

"No." He replied simply. The assassin shook her head; she needn't have even bothered asking.

After a few moments of silence the qunari's helm landed next to her foot, followed by splint mail bracers, a breastplate, chain mail skirt, and a pair of mammoth red steel boots. Amara nearly chuckled as Sten took a seat on the bench to her right. The assortment of armor was eclectic at best. It had taken her a while to puzzle through the qunari's taste in equipment but once she figured it out the attraction was clear. Sten favored aesthetically pleasing things. He'd never said as much in words, but Amara assumed he could respect the talent of an artist in his work just as well as the proficiency of a swordsman. It was endearing, even, that a creature so physically imposing and conversationally foreboding would have a love of the arts that most human men would consider effeminate.

"You are ashkaari, your decisions were sound." Amara smiled at the praise. Sten had begun calling her the qunari equivalent of "enlightened" after she had found and returned his sword Asala to him. From the context she could gather it was an honor not lightly bestowed and she relished the admiration.

"It is easy to doubt when I don't feel like ashkaari." She admitted. Sten stood abruptly and began to walk away.

"Come," he commanded. "It would not be well to discuss in the presence of the warden—or the witch." He added, referring to Morrigan who he had never bothered to hide his distaste for. The giant stepped briskly through the flap to his tent, leaving Amara to be astounded by the strange invitation. She'd not seen the inside of it before, having no reason to be there. But rather than offend the qunari's sensibilities, she quickly leapt to her feet and pushed through the animal-hide barrier to find what she least expected, although it made sense once she thought on it.

The space was not cluttered with trinkets but it was certainly nothing short of what one would call adorned. The enclosing skins on each side had been colored, possibly painted, with intricate patterns in neutral tones. The ground was covered by various furs, patched together in a logical order, she supposed to sleep on. From the central poles that created the ceiling hung a carved silver lantern, covered in whorls and figures from base to tip, which cast a surreal glow inside the enclosure. It was a shrine to practical artistry.

"I wish I had your talent with decorating," Amara nearly laughed.

"It agrees with me," the warrior concurred. She watched as the giant qunari folded himself into a less imposing shape, cross-legged on the floor of the tent. Though she supposed it was a futile attempt. No matter how he sat, Sten would be more than a head taller than her, and a formidable presence.

Amara admired his physical prowess; Sten's strength and talent were yet un-matched. But as of recently, she'd begun to admire him as a man. When Alistair besieged her with questions or entreaties or Morrigan's self interest warred with her nerve, the young appointed leader of the troupe had begun to seek the company of the silent giant. Sten spoke little but when he did it was only sensible and to the point, something she'd come to value. And that was to say nothing of the exotic dichotomy between his frosted braids and dark island complexion. He had a stoic allure that she found more than a little intriguing. But the interest was best kept to herself, she had reasoned. Distractions tended to be fatal, as Sten would likely agree.

"Do you really see me as imekari?" She questioned.

Sten contemplated the question as the lantern-light created a host of shadows around his stone-cut features. "No, it is an incorrect description." He finally replied.

"What would be more accurate?" Amara probed further, curious of how she might seem to the island giant.

"You are hissra, an illusion, that which should not be. You are woman but warrior, small but fierce, ashkaari but full of pointless questions." He explained, an impressive amount of words at once, for the qunari.

Amara studied the lantern from the floor. Hunters chased prey across the base and near the top the wing of a dragon wrapped around from the side she could not see. "It's beautiful." She breathed.

Sten grunted. "I would expect you to appreciate such qualities."

"Why is that?"

"They say among my people that creatures of kin are attracted to one another. You are visually agreeable, as is it." Amara quirked an eyebrow.

"You find me attractive?"

"That is not a word I am familiar with. You are aesthetically pleasing to me." Sten clarified. Amara cleared her throat around a laugh and shifted to sit playfully on her knees. It wasn't exactly "you're sexy" or "nice rack" but she figured "you're symmetrical" was about as close as the dark qunari giant could express to attraction.

"What about Morrigan? Do you find her aesthetically pleasing?" Amara questioned, interested in how his taste in arts and armor correlated with women. The warrior folded his arms over the wool shirt he wore beneath his armor.

"Had she no mouth she would remain cold and pale." The warden nearly giggled at the spot on description. Amara knew that Sten hated Morrigan's frivolous and acidic words but despite her light coloring most men would find her curves attractive. As for being cold, Amara figured the adjective was more due to his distaste for mages than for any first-hand experience Sten had with her temperature.

"May I ask another question?" She pried.

Sten sighed, hunching over his folded legs looking almost relaxed. "I have no illusions that I could stop you from asking if I wished to." He admitted.

"What you told Morrigan, was it true?"

"I have told the witch many falsehoods."

"What about needing a helmet and armor for the two of you to, ah, be together?" She probed. She swore the qunari almost smiled as he chuckled, presumably remembering the conversation.

"It would not be so. The quun are stronger than you humans but even qunari women would not bear a child well if so abused."

Amara fidgeted uncharacteristically. Her curiosity, among other things, was piqued but she doubted that Sten would indulge himself in such frivolous pastimes. And yet, she could not help the words that bubbled from her lips.

"How exactly would it be then?" She asked.

"You are curious?" He returned. Amara nodded sheepishly. She had never been one to quail at such encounters but the novelty of this particular place, time, not to mention individual, made her anxious. Sten cocked his head, considering.

"I see no more harm in appreciating the usefulness of a pleasing woman than in appreciating that of a pleasing object." He acquiesced, gesturing to the lantern overhead. "I know you rarely abandon a question before receiving its answer, so I see I have little choice." He reasoned.

Amara squinted, appraising the folded giant, the casual turn of his shoulder and his head which had lolled to one side. "You're teasing me!" She accused. And there, again, was the near-smile stretching across the qunari's broad face.

"Perhaps, the quun do have such a concept. But I have spoken truthfully." In response Amara scooted across the fur rugs on her knees with an outstretched hand. Tentatively, she laid her fingers on the side of his mammoth neck, sliding down below his collar bone. And that, precisely, is when all Andraste's hell broke loose.

Sten immediately pounced, shoving her down onto the rugs with one massive hand to her shoulder. With dexterity that Amara could never have expected from such large fingers, he unlaced and unbuckled every confinement on her body, peeling away leather and cloth with equal ease until she was left with nothing but her hands to retain modesty.

To her relief he pulled the wool tunic over his head and tossed it among her discarded articles, though he kept the loose-fitting breeches tied around his waist. Eager to see what she was up against, Amara reached for the waistband but he snatched her wrist before she could pluck at the strings. Instead, he caught her other hand and pinned both together over her head under one large paw. "It is not time." He said simply. With the other hand he rearranged her legs, directing one to either side of his own. Given his size, that feat alone was impressive. Amara gulped, no longer sure how well she would be able to accommodate what would come.

With single-minded purpose the qunari's large hand wasted no time diving between her legs. He reached her inner thigh and began kneading the sensitive skin with the rough pad of his thumb. His touch caused a tingle starting from where his hand worked that began radiating outwards towards her extremities. Involuntarily her hands clenched rigidly and her toes curled with the sensation. It was then that everything began to pulse. The blood rushed to her face while she could feel her pulse pumping through her ears. The pulsing moved decisively between her legs as she squirmed hopelessly, clenching her legs around Sten's massive thighs.

In answer, his fingers moved inward, roughly rubbing beneath her pink folds. The pleasure was intense and heady already and Amara could not retain any sense of composure. She came undone entirely when his forefinger delved inside of her with a maddening twist and stroke. She moaned low in her throat, biting her lip to hold it in as best she could, lest the rest of the camp hear. Apparently Sten had thought of the same thing because he rushed to close his lips over hers. They were soft, unlike the rest of him and entirely not expected. His tongue slipped between her lips, eliciting another moan of pleasure into his mouth.

Unable to do anything but comply, she arched her back against where her hands were still held captive, forcing herself further onto his digit. Renewing the attack, Sten forced another think finger in beside the first. Already Amara felt stretched to her limit. Were she not consumed by the vibrant tingling sensation she might have panicked to think of what he had yet to offer beyond his hands but as it was she couldn't being herself to imagine it.

His fingers parted once, twice, over and over, until she thought she might scream. The throbbing consumed her body relentlessly until his fingers withdrew all at once, with one last stroke.

In mere seconds Sten had freed himself from the wool breeches and was again kneeling between her legs. Amara opened her eyes to survey the new addition and gaped helplessly. Sten's fingers were large enough but even three of them could barely compare to the erect appendage. It was easily the width of her wrist at the base.

"It will not be easy." Sten rumbled. Ignoring the obvious, Amara reached out to touch the tapering tip. With the modest practice she'd had, Amara clenched the base in her fist, giving one decisive stroke to the top. Sten sucked air in through his teeth as if holding back physically pained him, and perhaps it did.

With a low growl, Sten pinned her once more as he positioned himself at her entrance. Amara had thought that she could handle no more before but the painful stretching was nothing she could have prepared for. It was agony and bliss wrapped up in the same enormous package. All at once, the tingling flared once again, radiating from her epicenter that throbbed around the intruding member.

With one final push Sten forced himself in up to the hilt, pausing to allow them both a short breath. He allowed her the use of her hands and Amara immediately reached up to latch her nails onto his shoulders while giving a provocative rock of her hips.

He grabbed her legs and placed them against his chest so they dangled over his shoulders at the top. With that done he began a slow retreat that gained a strangled gasp from Amara.

Without warning, he slammed home, tearing into Amara's clenching flesh. She whimpered, a noise she'd never heard herself make, at the double edged sword of searing pain and undulating pleasure.

The thrusting seemed to last an eternity as she dug into his shoulders with renewed vigor, begging silently to fall from the steep cliff she hung at. Waves of gooseflesh took her each in turn, matching the never-ending tide of pulsing vibrations. Her thighs locked up from strain while her toes squeezed together, latching onto the sensations.

Sten increased the rhythm as her legs began to shake uncontrollably at the edge of her release. Each stroke filled and stretched her anew, drawing forth a final raw cry from her throat. Her entire body contracted and exploded into an ocean of raw fulfillment. Two more strokes took her before Sten shuddered and moaned against her lips, experiencing his own eruption inside of her. With one last sated thrust, Sten emerged from her yielding center.

The two spent a moment, gasping, as they looked at one another. Amara's head collapsed backward onto the rugs in sheer exhaustion while Sten lowered himself to the floor beside her.

"Your curiosity is satisfied?" He questioned. Amara took a long steadying breath before she found her raw voice to answer.

"I don't think I'll ever be satisfied again." She admitted with a hoarse chuckle.