Eris Cousland DARP Dragon Age Origins - Duncan (NSFW)

The rain fell in a fine mist.

Dead-eyed she sat and stared into the flame of the smaller camp fire. She could no longer see the flames of her own home as Howe slaughtered through it.

Two days they had moved through the countryside, her and Duncan, barely talking, barely resting.

"You must eat" Duncan said, handing her a bowl, Eris looked down at it and then away.

"I'm not hungry" she said quietly.

"We should get out of this rain, get dry at least" and he's up and gone before she can even tell him she didn't care. And she didn't.

Fucking Howe. Bastard Howe. Traitor Howe.

Her hands curl into fists. To think she could have married the son of her parents murderers. How delightfully horrifying. She was going to kill him slowly, make him beg, make him suffer…

"Come" Duncan breaks through her thoughts and, after gathering up her things and putting out the fire, she follows him a small way, finding herself in a rocky depression, it wasn't deep enough to be called a cave but it would keep the rain off. She goes through the motions but what else can she do? She wants to stop, she wants it to not be.

"Take off your armour, we'll dry it out"

Eris blinks "what?"

But Duncan is already removing his own, laying it out before the fire until he's in nothing but his small clothes and Eris reluctantly does the same. She still had the dried blood on her, her fathers blood, her eyes blur with unshed tears and she growls, stomping out of the little nook to stand in the rain, looking up onto the sky, her tears lost in the rain on her cheeks.

She flinches when she feels a cloth run over her shoulders. Duncan. Methodically, almost clinically, he clears the worst of it off her before he hands her the cloth so she can return the favourite. Running it over his chest at first she isn't thinking of anything, almost deliberately blank. It's only as she moves over his stomach and he shifts, only slightly but it's enough to remind her of who/ he/ is.

When she had first met him she had suggested they had meet privately to…talk…and he had politely declined. He was handsome, refined and she remembered thinking at the time that he would look just as handsome as she rode above him naked.

Her movements only stutter slightly, but they become more tender, less clinical than his cleaning of her. It's the first time in days she felt anything other than numbing grief. She moves round him, the cloth cleaning away the grime until she stands at his back, she moves the cloth over his side, over his stomach, lower, over his hip, moving slowly…

His hand grabs hers and she freezes, keeping hold of her he turns, pulling her hard against him, their two rainslicked bodies presses together

"You are grieving." He says looking down on her, their faces close enough to feel his breath

"Grieving. Not dead." She says quietly

"It would be…improper…"

She can feel through his small clothes that while his mouth may disapprove his body does not. She wasn't pure…that night Howe attacked she had been in bed with sweet Dairren, she would have preferred the man pressed against her now though.

"I already asked you to join me that night…"

Duncan shifts then, as if his small clothes had suddenly gotten tighter. Ah so she has made an impression.

"I'm asking again…" she breathes, not moving, her lips close to his. He had to cross that distance. She needed to feel alive, she wanted him.