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Crème de la Krem

Ursyla Major

Rating - NC-17

Summary - The Inquisitor has a big crush on someone unexpected.

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Dragon Age is property of Bioware. Author is not making money from this story.

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It had been a long day, the inquisitor reflected, as she lay in her bed and looked blankly up at the wood beams of the ceiling. That week she’d been all over the Storm Coast, collecting shards and tinkering with astrariums, not to mention chipping at bits of iron and summer stone as she checked the caves for deepstalkers. They needed their hides to repair the ships, after all. Finally after several days, the war council was called, and she’d ridden for home.

Her cabin had been a welcome luxury. Every muscle ached, and her thighs protested the long ride with every step. Fighting had been brutal, between bandits, demons, and the odd bear. She felt like she’d been thrown into a raging river, and had hit every rock on her way downstream.

Morale was at an all time low too. The Inquisitor had been trying valiantly to deny it for the past month or so, but she was awfully lonely. Not for friendship, her companions offered her plenty of that. She was lonely at night, and longed for the company and relief that a warm body and soft fingers could provide. Being the Herald of Andraste was a singular job, and she hadn’t quite anticipated how hard it would be to find a lover that would separate her from the title; who would want to please her, rather than just fulfil their theological duties. The loneliness was keeping her up now, she wasn’t a bit sleepy, despite her exhaustion.

Casually she reflected on her options. Cassandra was out, she was surprisingly heterosexual. So was Blackwell, who was charming enough, but who could get past that beard? Sera had seemed willing enough at first, but had gone a touch chilly when she’d seen that the Inquisitor intended to embrace her role as the Herald. She sighed, Sera wasn’t exactly what she’d hoped for in a lover anyway. The little rogue was too vicious, and too obtuse. She had a feeling that if asked how she liked to be touched, Sera would tell her a story about a corrupt nobleman done in by his mistress. Even the Iron Bull failed to appeal to her, though he had seemed open to the idea.

More and more, the inquisitors thoughts had strayed to one individual in particular. His stories made her laugh even while his smooth voice made her shiver. Every time she returned to their home base, she would seek him out for a story, and he always delivered.

“Cremisius…” She whispered, letting her fingers trail down her abdomen under the sheets. What was it about him that made her so weak? Inside her mind, she pictured him with his armor off, propped up on his elbows over her. Was he a good lover? He must know better than most what a women liked. Her fingers slid below the waistband of her loose sleeping pants, and she began to touch herself. Heat pooled in her belly, and she slid her fingers between her lips and spread them, drawing fingertips smoothly across her core. She was already wet, just from thinking about him. She would need to rub it out of her system if she wanted any sleep that night. “Kremmm…”

Someone rapped on the door and the inquisitor sat bolt upright, jogged harshly out of her activity. Jamming moist fingers into her mouth to clean them, she rose and tugged the blanket around her bare shoulders before wrenching the door open. It must have been hilarious to watch the look of irritation on her face bleed away to embarrassment.

“Herald of Andraste. I… uh... heard you calling for me?” Krem stood there, a soft flush across his nose.

The inquisitor realized suddenly and with the appropriate amount of horror that she’d neglected to shut the windows. He must have heard her. Maker, he must have been able to hear the desire in her voice, what had possessed him? For a moment, possible reactions shuffled through her head. She could deny it, confusedly play it off, she could even sternly scold him for his arrogance. Of course all of these would imply that her pulse wasn’t hammering in her throat. Going with her heart instead, the inquisitor stepped backwards. “Why don’t you come in?” she invited, leaning against the door. He obeyed, nodding his head politely and stepping inside, then standing still long enough for her to close the door. “What were you doing out so late?”

“Patrolling, Ma’am. Iron Bull’s orders.” He was so matter of fact.

She could smell the wine on his breath. She prickled, and momentarily sternness got the better of her. “Guarding the tavern, I see.” Was his nose flushed with drink, chill, or embarrassment? Perhaps all three.

“No Ma’am.” He at least had the sense to look abashed, “Just a nip for the cold.” It was chilly enough outside the walls of her cabin, and the inquisitor took pity, turning to close the windows. When she turned back, Krem was looking at her. A small, goofy smile appeared on his lips. “Did you need something, Herald? Something fetched… or shall I rouse my boss?”

“Just company. I can’t sleep.” Again, her stomach flipped over, and she sat down on the bed. “Tell me about The Bull’s Chargers.” She instructed, leaning back on her hands. “Have you had any other interesting jobs?”

There was no hesitation. “Once we were hired by the noble in charge of the city to find and scare some sense into his hedonist son. We found the lad coming out of one of the city’s bathhouses later that day. He ended up running back inside, and The Bull followed him in. We chased him through the ladies section too, while all the townswomen screamed and pelted us with bottles of oil and perfume. Bull and I smelled like roses for almost a month after that.”

The inquisitor grinned, imagining the Iron Bull covered with soap suds and perfume. She would usually excuse herself after Krem’s story now, promising that they would talk again later. Now though, a new option struck her, and she rose and advanced on him. He stood at attention, but his eyes were soft. As he watched, she reached up and touched the design on his breastplate. “May I ask you something else?”

“Certainly.” He replied.

“You’re what the qunari call Aqun-Athlok.” How to phrase it delicately? “Does that mean…” He looked at her amusement dusting his features though he did not exactly smile She realized suddenly that he was going to make her say it. Aloud. Her brow furrowed, and she turned stoic. “Does that mean that you take women to bed as most men do?” She should have asked Iron Bull what Krem’s preferences were. She didn’t even know if he was spoken for or not! Still, she squared her shoulders and set her jaw.

“Any particular reason you’re asking?”

“I’m the Herald of Andraste. You will answer my question.” The inquisitor let her arms slide around his waist, slowly, so slowly, giving him plenty of time to protest if he was going to. The armor was hard as her chest pressed into it, and the cold from it seeped through the blanket and permeated her skin. It made her nipples harden and poke against the loose fabric of her shirt. She hardly noticed it though, as her breath hitched. His nose was now inches from her own. Every fleck of color in his eyes, every freckle or small scar on his face was suddenly closer; clearer. “I’m asking because I’m attracted to you.” She whispered, feeling heat creep up her neck.

The Charger did not reply, simply leaned forward and pressed his lips to her’s. His mouth was soft and pliant, and she opened her’s immediately, demanding he do the same. When their tongues collided, she felt a jerk between her legs. The taste of wine was plain on his tongue, wine and elfroot and smoke. He smelled of it too, wood smoke, and outside, and the soft musk of women’s skin. Almost immediately, her arms snaked around his head, pulling him closer, trapping him against her.

Maker, he was a good kisser, her knees practically felt weak from it. She melted into him, a shiver running down her spine as she explored the corners of his mouth. Spending so long alone and desiring him had left her greedy, and her kisses ravaging. She wanted to taste everything. He bore the onslaught of her passion with the patience one might expect from a long time soldier. When she sucked on his bottom lip, he grunted heavily and armored fingers that had been pressing on her bottom clutched it tighter. The Inquisitor didn’t mind, she wanted him closer, and she wanted him to touch more of her.

The butterflies in her stomach had worked themselves into a frenzy by that point, and she pressed her thighs together in an attempt to assuage the renewed throbbing. It was all the worse now, and she let her hands trail down his armor, searching desperately for a break in the metal and leather while her lips stayed crushed to his. It was his fingers though, that found their mark first, as they slid under her sleeping shirt, and up the taut muscles of her back. His gauntlets were cool to the touch, not enough time had passed from patrolling to caressing, and goose flesh appeared on her arms.

“Inquisitor.” He whispered as her lips left his and then moved to touch the sensitive skin of his neck. His embrace was growing tighter now, and he parted her knees with one of his own.

“No…” She heard herself whisper as she peppered the sinews there with gentle nibbles and open mouthed kisses. “Say my name.” He obeyed, caressing her sides and repeating it over and over again. Finally he shifted and closed his mouth around the soft skin of her neck, and her entire back arched of it’s own volition. She cried out then, and tilted her head to give him more access should he choose to take advantage. There would be marks there in the morning, and everyone would know that Andraste’s herald had taken someone into her bed.

Breaking away from the embrace, she took a step back and sank down onto the bed. Her arms rose and dragged with them the hem of her sleeping shirt, and she carefully peeled it off her head. Krem stood there, cheeks flushed from desire, breath coming fast. He raised a gauntleted hand and wiped his lower lip on the back of it. He wasn’t looking at her face anymore, but staring openly at her.

“Take off your sword.” The herald instructed him, and he reached up and unbuckled his sword, weapon and sheath falling carelessly to the floor with a clatter. “That too.” She gestured to his breastplate, which followed after a moment of hesitation. There was a certain amount of self consciousness apparent in his face, and the Inquisitor realized belatedly that being naked at all, let alone naked in front of her might cause him some anxiety. “And those.” She motioned to his gauntlets, which he had to fiddle awkwardly with for the better part of a minute before all the buckles were undone and the things fell to the floor. “Now come here.”

He came to her, and she pulled him down again, legs wrapping around his waist as he found a comfortable way to settle on top of her. Even through his tunic, he fit perfectly into her. She felt his hand slide up along her ribcage the cup her breast, and she arched into his palm to encourage him. The soft caress grew bolder then, and he began massaging her flesh, tracing designs across her nipple with his thumb. As he worked, she felt his teeth scrape across her collarbone, tongue dipping into the hollow of her throat.

Digging her feet into the mattress, the Inquisitor found his hip bone and began grinding against it, hoping to relieve some of the building pressure. It did little to staunch her desires, indeed only seemed to fan the flames of them higher, and caused her to buck all the more wildly when she felt his lips clamp around her nipple. “Fuck… Krem… Ohh...” She whined his name as longingly as before, and her fingers ran through the soft bed of hair. The hot sensations left her writhing and gasping as he lavished her with attention, alternating between suckling and tracing circles with the tip of his tongue. It seemed the longer he hovered, the more of her tit he pulled into his mouth. She only half felt his fingers clasping the waistband of her pants, but raised her hips for him to tug them off all the same.

Krem tossed the pants aside and settled on top of her again, one elbow propping up his weight while he moved his mouth to her other nipple. The first one that had been abandoned felt especially naked now, glistening in the moonlight and deprived of the wet heat of his mouth. She brought her own hand up to cup the small globe of flesh, the pads of her fingers tracing away the lingering moisture.

Her skin was so soft, and whimpers so inviting, that he could hardly help himself. Both of them knew what she wanted, but the Charger refused to rush. She was the Herald of Andraste as well as the most unabashedly desirable woman he’d ever seen, and he had every intention of tasting every inch of her. He teased her breast lazily, then let his mouth trail across her ribs, the taught plains of her stomach, and finally the tender crease of her thigh.

It was only when his fingers parted her lips that the Inquisitor realized where his other hand had wandered, and she cooed as he dipped his fingers into her wet core and began smearing the moisture there up the length of her until he found her clit. Carelessly, he circled the small bundle of nerves a few times before breaking away from her and bringing his fingers to his mouth to taste her. Slowly and theatrically for her viewing benefit.

Enthralled, the Inquisitor watched as he sucked his fingers clean, strands of cum connecting his mouth to them for a few moments before they snapped.

Leaning forward, she captured his mouth in another kiss, running her own tongue over his lower lip to catch the forgotten moisture there. “Maker, you taste good.” He mumbled when the kiss broke, his voice had gone huskier than usual, and this close she could see his pupils had dilated.

He was right, she did taste good, and it was all the better sampling it from his mouth. She stroked his face then, tracing the ridges of his angular cheekbone and jaw. Her thumb touched his lips, and there was no denying their softness or swell. They were both panting by then, both aching for the other. She was naked now, the moonlight reflecting off her bare skin and contrasting it sharply against his tunic, breeches, tassets, and boots.

Slowly, as if waiting for her to change her mind, he re-positioned himself between her legs. It was a pretty sight, watching the mercenary press his lips to her lower ones. He kissed them once experimentally, then his tongue darted out to part them. Nuzzling his way between them, he lapped gently at her, flicking his tongue across her, trying to taste every inch. From her vantage point, she could see each stroke of his tongue.

Tilting her head back, she luxuriated in the gentle circles that rubbed so right they burned. The soft lapping made her squirm, and the Charger’s fingers found her hips and caught them in a vice grip, forcing her pelvis to be still and endure the torture. “How do you like to be touched?” Krem asked after he’d taken some time to explore. Her lips were tumescent, and might have been flushed, but he couldn’t see it in the silvery moonlight.

“Mmm.” the Inquisitor whispered, articulation low on her list of priorities. “Just like that. Just like that... but harder- not that hard!” He complied expertly, his tongue precise and merciless. She heard herself swear, and her fingers found his short shaved hair again, feeling tickle of it against her palms as she tried to fist it.

He looked so handsome there with his mouth suctioned on to her, cheeks nestled between her swollen lips, eyes wide and staring up, his nose flush in the dusting of cropped curls above. On top of his head there were a few locks long enough to grab, and she did so, tugging whenever he found the exact right angle and rhythm. When he moaned, his entire mouth vibrated, causing her to arch. She could see his own hand down his britches, touching himself discreetly. “Does the Herald of Andraste fucking your mouth turn you on?” she asked, eyes slitted and unfocused as her head lolled to the side. “Oh… Maker… OH!”

All he could do was nod once and squeeze her sides. He was too focused on cramming her entire cunt into his mouth to detangle himself and speak. Every time her hips rose for him, he grunted loudly, and ground his pelvis into the mattress and his fingers sandwiched between. He was sopping wet. It was the soft mewls of pleasure and quick and irregular bucks of her hips that he had to thank for that. Adjusting his angle, the next time she bucked, she ground her pussy dead into his tongue, and he flicked at her clit as it passed. The new position was giving him a crick in his neck, but the taste and smell were too intoxicating to stop. He was no stranger to working hard through distraction anyway.

She could feel him working her, tireless in his task. His fingers teased her entrance for a moment, before he tentatively slid one in. It felt deep and intimate, and after a moment he began to thrust, curling his fingers up to tease a sensitive spot beyond her lips. Pressure and sensation doubled in on itself and her hips rocked erratically to accomodate. Breath tore audibly from her throat and her brows furrowed as she rode his hand. He was merciless, and the closer she got, the steadier his ministrations became. Cum dripped freely down his chin, making his neck sticky, and pooled in the palm of his hand. He resisted the urge to pause and lap them clean. More than anything he wanted to watch her finish while he was buried inside her to the knuckle. He could feel her soft lips sucking on his fingers, muscles clenching whenever he pulled out and relaxing when he thrust back in. She had to be getting close.

Heat was pooling and coiling in her abdomen now, and she felt a rush of gravity as everything inside her condensed. Her fingers dug into the sheets, fisting the fabric, and whimpers clawed their way from her throat. Vaguely she was aware of begging. “Please, oh please. Just like that. Just there. Don’t stop… don’t stop… don’t stop…”

Gravity fell away, and a shudder ran through her. There was a rushing sensation that lifted her up and up and up and left her hanging in stasis. Waiting and cresting. The pleasure reached it’s zenith after a few endless moments and abruptly the coiling mass of pleasure inside her violently unwound itself and exploded outwards, wracking her body with waves of release. She whined his name over and over again, slurred and elongated as she moaned through the sensations that gripped her. The green mark on her palm crackled and grew, pain shot up her arm, and for a brief moment, the whole cabin was lit green.

Krem slid back to watch as his hand was drenched as her muscles flexed and twitched around him, shuddering involuntarily this time. Her folds were glistening now. He’d been thorough about swallowing every drop, but he spread her open and ran his tongue across the soft flesh again, just to be sure. When he accidentally nudged her clit, she bucked, and the hands in his hair pulled to the point of pain.

The Herald of Andraste was limp now, looking less like a figurehead of a revolution and more like a figure who’d just had revolutionary head. “That was…” Her sentiment was interrupted by a moan as the soldier’s fingers slid from her leaving her feeling strangely hollow. “You were...” There were no words.

The Lieutenant shifted, his pants uncomfortably moist, and crawled up to lay next to her. She moved to bury her face in the crook of his neck, starkly naked against the heavy tunic he wore under his armor. Her hair was tangled and her breath was still coming fast. Her hand slid slowly towards his cunt, and he let her caress it through the buffer of his pants for a few moments before he gently caught her wrist. “I’d rather you didn’t.” He whispered, “It’s embarrassing... It’s wrong.”

Limply, the Inquisitor raised her head and regarded him for several seconds through half lidded eyes. It was clear from her face that she wanted to touch him. “I want to return the favor.” When his grip did not slacken however, she relented and lowered herself back to his shoulder and burrowed deeper. “Come back tomorrow?” She asked, and he could hear the touch of sleep in her voice.

He’d fucked her senseless, it seemed, and he felt a prideful smirk spread across his mouth. He’s turned Andraste’s daughter into a puddle of goo. Him. Cremisius. The man who was bullied for not being a man whenever the Chargers stopped at a particularly conservative tavern. “You leave for the Hinterlands tomorrow morning.” He reminded her kindly. “I’ll come back when you return.”

The Mercenary held the Herald long after she relaxed fully and breathed a soft snore. He waited a few minutes further then detangled himself then and slipped from the bed. Finding her blanket where she’d discarded it, he covered her again, then dressed quietly and slipped from the small cabin she called home.

He hadn’t gotten more than a few feet before he was startled by a deep voice. “Crème de la Krem, did you make her crème?”

The mercenary turned to glare at his captain, who was seated a few feet away on the stone wall, nursing the wineskin the two had been sharing. Upon seeing the dirty look the young human cast him, the Qunari threw his head back and chortled, smacking his ample stomach several times. Not only had his Captain been waiting for him to finish, but it seemed like he’d been working on puns as well.

“Very funny Boss. Next time you might try something subtler. I can’t believe you knocked on the door and pushed me up.” Krem snapped, reaching for the wineskin and then grunting in irritation when it was revealed to be empty. Casually he looked down and scratched his thumb nail across a suspicious white stain that had set on his breeches where the Herald had been grinding against him.

“I can’t believe you didn’t panic and run like that time in Orlais!” The Iron Bull shot back, smacking his hands into his knees and standing up. “Anyway, I may just have one eye, but I’m not half blind. Someone had to give you a push, or you’d be spinning tall tales and flashing her puppy dog eyes until the end of the age.”

Krem turned to go.

Behind him, his boss had one more smart thing to say. “By the way, Krem, you’ve got something on your chin!”

#krem #cremisius acclasi #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #fanfic

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