owlmoose | Dragon Age Kiss Battle: 2013 Edition

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Dragon Age Kiss Battle: 2013 Edition

Welcome to the 2013 Dragon Age Kiss Battle!

Any kind of kiss is welcome -- het, slash, femslash; shippy, familial, gen; cheek kisses, mouth kisses, kissing of... other things; serious, fluffy, silly, or all three at once; fanfic, fanart, whatever you come up with; anything goes!

Update: The post is now open! The post will open to prompts and comments at approximately 9AM Pacific Time, Thursday February 7th (Click here for the time in your timezone). I don't anticipate closing it, so come by any time!

THE RULES:

To leave a request: Post a comment with a pairing (or moresome) and, if desired, a prompt. Put the pairing/characters in the subject line and the prompt in the body of the comment.

To respond: Reply to the prompting comment. Include characters, rating, and title in the subject line.

Multiple responses are both allowed and encouraged!

There is no limit to the number of prompts you can post.

Artwork can be posted inline, but try not to make it too large. Please link to images that are very large or NSFW.

Please, be kind to others regarding pairing choices, prompts, or anything else. This game is for everyone! :)

Anon commenting is on, as is OpenID, if you neither have nor want a Dreamwidth account.

Send your friends! :D

If you have questions, please ask them here. Thanks, and happy kissing!!

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Yesss, I love it. ;_;

just an ordinary mirror

"I can not believe I let you talk me into this," Anora stated, fuming at herself for her moment of weakness. Had she not told him time and again that his outings were dangerous? What in blazes had she been thinking in letting him convince her that she needed to go out and be around people in a blighted tavern? They could have been killed when that fight broke out! They would have left Ferelden in the hands of fools like Eamon or worse! “We are not doing that again,” she added sternly with a glare at Alistair as he closed the door to the parlor between their rooms.

“Oh don’t be such a stick in the mud. I swear Sten had more sense of fun then you do and that’s what you were having,” he said, brown eyes dancing as he pulled off the helmet on his head. “I really should have pushed for you to come with sooner. I can’t believe you manage to bluff Macarth. He had been cleaning the men out for weeks and you just wrung every copper out of him through the night.”

“It is difficult to accept appreciation of my talents when the gentleman in question then tried to take my head off Alistair,” Anora grumbled as she pulled off the mail gauntlets, wiggling her fingers some now that they were free of them. She tried to keep to her serious demeanor and remember all the trouble that had happened and having to run away from the blasted city guard of all things to make sure no one found out the king and queen of Ferelden were playing cards in a common tavern. She could not help it though as a smug grin slowly worked it’s way over her face. It was hard not to beam as she remembered besting that Macarth bugger at his own game when he had been being such a terrible winner over matters.

Alistair got a knowing grin on his face and pointed at hers. “Aha! See you did enjoy yourself, and Ferelden did not tumble into the sea from Queen Anora mingling with the commoners and having a little fun instead of working away in her ivory tower. Admit it.”

“Nonsense,” Anora said doing her best to pull on her usual serious mein. “It was a civic duty to put such a ruffian in their place for conning workers out of their fair pay on a game of cards just because one possesses superior skill.”

Alistair however was having none of her explanation. “Uh-huh...admit it and stop dodging there Anora.”

Blue eyes simply rolled heaven ward on an exasperated sigh. Of course Alistair would be childish about such a thing just because he managed to convince her to follow along on one of his mad forays into the city’s taverns. Obviously she should have done her original plan of reading and needlepoint for the night. She was to be in meetings tomorrow and as it stood was unlikely to get enough sleep.

With that thought she got to work getting out of the borrowed breastplate she wore, twisting this way and that to undo the buckles. Alistair came over to help her out of it as she struggled, not as use to getting into and out of armor as much as he was. “You know duty doesn’t have to be this unpleasant and endless to do list for everyone. You can admit to enjoying things.”

“I do enjoy things,” Anora said in an annoyed tone.

“Well then you should be able to admit you enjoyed knocking that bugger down a few notches now shouldn’t you?”

“This is ridiculous. Alistair I have nothing to admit and you are being childish over matters.”

The king made a noise of agreement as the breastplate came off. “I just want to hear you admit that you had fun and actually enjoyed being Anora instead of queen for a night.”

Anora shook her head at him and started to reach for her boots onto to squeak as Alistair poked her in the side. She stood up like a rod with wide eyes that stated dire ramifications if Alistair did that again.

The brown eyed ex-warden looked surprised himself, at the squeak or that at what he had done Anora was unsure but she knew there was going to be trouble as a playful grin crept over his face. “Alistair,” she said in a low tone of warning.

“What?” he asked in return in a tone that did little to help his appearance of innocence.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t? Don’t what? Whatever could you possibly mean my lady?” he asked still maintaining the mock air of innocence. “Do this?”

Anora squealed again as this time she got poked in both sides. She slapped at his fingers and tried harder to maintain her cool demeanor. “You know very well what I mean and I Eeeee! Stop that this minute Alistair!”

“Make me,” he retorted with a smile, clearly enjoying this much to Anora’s aggravation. “You look so much better all flushed and annoyed though I promise I’ll stop when you admit I was right.”

“This is completely ridicu- EEEE!”

“Oh whatever will befall the people of Ferelden when they find out the Queen’s greatest weakness is being tickled,” Alistair said with mock dramatics even as one arm wrapped around Anora’s waist to keep her in place while his other hand tickled away.

“Stop-EEE! I mean it AlistAAIR!” Anora replied, vainly trying to escape with dignity and tact even though her husband was apparently not going to have any of it. Every time she opened her mouth to say something he tickled her. Even worse he was still mostly in armor so she could not employ methods to make him stop. The Queen of Ferelden was reduced to a giggling and laughing mess on the floor thrashing about while trying to draw in air, the King hanging over her and granting no respite in his merciless campaign. It took awhile before she finally managed to pull in enough to speak again, quickly saying. “Yield! Yield!”

Alistair sat up some, looking smug as Anora pulled it much needed air. He waited with an expectant air that had Anora wondering if she might escape. However Alistair seemed to follow her train of thought ahead of her thinking them as he had her legs under him and made tickling motions with his hands at her. “You were saying?” he asked in a pleasant tone.

Anora sighed, disgruntled in defeat. “Yes I had fun.”

“Aaaand?” Alistair prompted, not about to let her escape easily it seemed.

With another sigh Anora continued. “And you were right, I needed to get out and stop being the Queen for a while and just be Anora...or Annie as you decided to have me dubbed. It...helped.”

Alistair’s smile changed, from smug to pleased though it maintained it’s playful childish tone. One callused hand tucked a stray lock of hair that had escaped her stern style during his tickling away behind her ear. It lingered on her cheek and Anora had to resist the urge to squirm nervously about it. “See? Now was that so hard to admit?” he asked, never ending in his teasing. “So, what do I receive as a reward?”

“Reward?” Anora asked with an incredulous air.

“Yes, seems to me that I saved Ferelden from the brink of war. It’s poor Queen was going to fall into a homicidal breakdown there and have the Orlesian dignitaries beheaded if she did not unwind somehow there after all. It was my civic duty to risk her ire and convince her that a night out on the town was exactly what she needed. No small feat given the lady in question. I mean have you met her? I’ve only been married to her for a little over half a year but I can tell you she’d head butt an ogre into submission for what she feels her people need and has this terrible habit of forgetting she’s human like everyone else and always putting herself last...”

He said some more but Anora honestly lost track of it, not something common of her but she could not help herself as she thought about things over the last half a year. Alistair had many duties as a king and a husband but worrying about her personal well being had never been something she had listed under his duties. How long had it been since she had someone that cared honestly about her as a person instead of her as a queen?

That temporary insanity that had been popping up all night reared it’s head again and much like the rest of the night Anora found herself not quite able to logic herself into refusing it. Her hands came up to catch Alistair’s face and he stopped talking in surprise an instance before she sat up enough to press her lips against his.

She must have shocked him because he was perfectly still for a moment before she felt one hand playing with those loose locks on her head restlessly. Anora had to admit that she was not use to kissing. Chaste pecks on the cheek and this press of lips in affection were all she knew even if she had wanted more than that. It had simply not been in Cailan to give and she doubted it was in Alistair either, after all she wasn’t...well...

She pulled away quickly, her face going red from embarrassment. Foolish is what she was. Alistair and her might be managing well enough currently but she should know better than to get any romantic notions in her head. They would be as doom to failure as they had been with Cailan. Now she had likely made things very awkward between them and perhaps even damaged this tentative friendship they were managing to create.

“I-” Anora started to say before clearing her throat. Stuttering would only make her appear weak and unsure of herself so she sat straighter as Alistair allowed her to pull her legs out from under him. Brown eyes narrowed a bit as who knew what thoughts weaved through his head. “I apologize. I should not have-”

Apparently it was Anora’s turn to be interrupted. The hand playing with her hair firmed on her neck and she suddenly had Alistair’s mouth against hers. She half expected him to be rough given the grip on her neck but he stopped short of that, instead being insistent. Anora found herself yielding without a thought, content for once to offer instead of demand when she found her mouth being tasted like some curious dish. She could not remember ever being kissed like this ever and she had to bend her considerable will to keep her hands still on metal covered shoulders. It was not new to her to want but it was new to feel the keen edge of it that she feared might have been need.

It was Alistair that stopped, causing another fear in Anora that she had to swallow against as those tawny eyes seemed to touch every feature of her face for a moment before that playful grin of his made another appearance. “That...was an amazing reward my lady.”

Oh yay! This is very sweet. I'm reposting the link in this comment so it can be clickable. Thank you -- and also for taking the plunge and being the first person to post art!

http://artwo-dtwo.deviantart.com/art/Kiss-Battle-353692320

Thank you both! It was a great prompt.

Ahhhh I love this!!! THank you :) :) :)

Ah, this is so sad, and so fitting for the prompt. I love the references to the poem that you worked in, they were perfect.

Awww, this is so sweet. I love it.

Ahhh I want to settle into this like a pile of fluffy pillows.

Rogues

Thank you! I had fun with it, and yeah, the last sentence was delightful fun. :D

The common thought amongst their friends was that Isabela caused the mischief for the most part, disrupting their already too-hectic lives. Certainly, she did like to cast herself in such light that most suspicion would fall on her, it suited her. The pirate wanted everyone to think of her and no one to really know her. Backwards really, until one thought of Hightown and how the world worked there. Hawke might have told her that she'd make a half-decent noble if he didn't think he'd get slapped for mentioning it.

Hawke did his share of taking advantage of events, of serendipity and not so unplanned encounters. At the Kirkwall fair, he sat behind a booth emblazoned with a scarlet banner and written in gold "Kiss the Champion of Kirkwall". It was for a good cause, for the Chantry orphans, and he'd been asked to help fundraise. No one had specified the how.

The booth had been doing steady business since he'd set up. Several of the other booth owners had stopped by before the festival even began to make their purchases. He handled each with grace, kissing maidens on the cheek and turning red when people suggested more. He didn't want more, not from the crowd.

His friends came by, each spending time with him. Sebastian had been first, chuckling at the booth but declining all invitations for a 'quick one on the house'. Aveline had glared crossly at him until he bounded over and kissed her cheek, a laughing Donnic at her shoulder. Isabela had refused to pay, deciding that a silver for a chaste kiss was highway robbery. Even the Seneschal came over, arms crossed over his chest, demanding that Hawke 'get it over with already' after plunking his money into the tin. He paid a sovereign - and Hawke hoped that he didn't think that entitled him to more. But Bran seemed content after their kiss, a little too pointed and hard for Hawke's liking.

His first true test was Merrill. She brought her silver over and placed it earnestly in front of him, expectant eyes big and round. Chin jutting out as she lifted her face, she let him capture her mouth, yielding at the first press of their lips. He liked that she smelled sweet and earthy, almost like a home he'd forgotten as they kissed. She was soft, issuing a kitten-like from the back of her throat as they broke away, almost making him want to extend it. Hawke didn't dare.

Fenris slunk through the crowd, but shook his head when Hawke asked him if he wanted a kiss. That was fine, Hawke didn't want to ask for more than anyone could give. Once Fenris departed, Anders appeared as if he'd been waiting for the elf to leave. Anders paid his silver, hooking his arm around Hawke's waist and demanding his kiss.

It was sweeter than he'd expected, but intense. His lips were almost pleading against his own, fire and ice dueling to make his case. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn Anders had done the electricity trick that Isabela talked about so often, but even Anders wouldn't risk doing magic in a crowd. Hawke drew back from the other man, breath coming in hard rushes, unsure of what he felt. That was probably the intent of the kiss. Afterwards Anders didn't stick around, the first glimpse of templar armor had him deciding that there were better places to be.

The day went by quickly, and Hawke made a tidy sum, even more than the woman selling mince pies. The Grand Cleric said nothing as he deposited his full lockbox, shaking her head genially and glancing over at Sebastian. Hawke had to break down the few pieces of his booth that were left, the banner, the chair he'd dragged from home to sit in, the mabari he'd left guarding it all.

Varric was sitting in the chair when he got back, talking with the dog. Hawke didn't quite catch what he said, but then again, he wasn't meant to. "Hawke." Varric smiled his name when he got close enough. "I thought you were going to go home without seeing me."

"Didn't know you wanted to help the Chantry, Varric." Hawke answered, carefully avoiding the honey-brown eyes that were gazing at him. His hands were busy rolling up the banner, but nothing would serve as enough of a distraction.

"I'm more of a help yourself type, but I can be convinced to be charitable."

"Do you want me to convince you then?" Hawke asked.

"That was the thought." Varric said, his tone faking idle, as if he hadn't been thinking about kissing Hawke all day, holed up in the Hanged Man to resist the temptation. He set the silver down like a challenge, an offering between them.

Varric may have wanted to look like he had better things to do, but Hawke had spent his day waiting for the dwarf to appear. They never spoke about the undercurrent that linked the two of them in more than business. Years in the making, the tension coiled within him, turning energy into a dark, excited heat.

He leaned down to where Varric sat and caught his lips with a soft brush. It was strange to be so close to him, to inhale the smell of his leather duster as it lay pressed between them. The kiss grew into more than just a simple pass within moments, harder, fiercer, Varric's hand around his neck and Hawke's tangled in his hair. He could feel Varric's heartbeat, strong and steady as it went on, a mouth pressed to his, breath mingling together, one tongue shy and the other bold as they both learned the other.

And then it was over, Varric's chuckling lips pulling away from his own. Hawke was nearly dizzy as he drew back, rocking on his heels and reaching towards his yet-to-be-dismantled booth.

"I've wanted to do that for years." Hawke admitted.

"Been waiting years for you to do it."

"Drinks tonight?"

"Count on it." Varric smiled at him, getting up out of the chair. He didn't have to say it, but Hawke knew a date when he heard one.

"Finally." Hawke muttered to himself as he watched Varric amble away. He turned back towards the Chantry, giant edifice dark against the blaze of the dying sun - he had one more silver to give the Grand Cleric.

"Would you like it?" Solona asked, an eyebrow slightly raised as she did. The purse of her lips made him think she was teasing, but he didn't know what about.

"What do you mean?" Alistair countered. They were in the Wonders of Thedas, and he'd indulged his curiosity and gone over to look at the runic tokens and stones.

"You've been picking it up and putting it down since we came in. I thought you might like it. As a gift." Solona leaned over, body just brushing his as she picked up the small runestone on the table next to him.

"It looks interesting. I just don't know what it is. A small rune of some sort?"

Solona laughed as she looked at it, then turned back to give him a fleeting kiss. Just a quick press of her mouth to his, gone before he could do more than just return the simple contact. This one tasted like laughter and sweetness.

It was those kinds of kisses he loved, the kind that seemed so routine and everyday that he might not remember them individually, but he loved what they meant. They were his, proof that he was loved and loved someone. It was the quick, short kisses that showed their familiarity, that they were past the fumbling awkward stage most of the time. The warm touch of her lips to his when she went to bed, the quick peck before they set off in the mornings, they were the everyday kind of wonder he never took for granted.

"It's a shiver rune. Mostly used for distinctly non-combat purposes. It's small because it was made to fit into smallclothes."

"Why would anyone ever want to put...ah." Realization dawned and he snapped his mouth closed. "Perhaps not." He said, looking around at the Wonders of Thedas. "These mages do make some interesting items." By interesting he meant disturbing, but he didn't want to talk more about it. Flames grew on his cheeks already, and he busied himself with books - there was no way they could be as bad.

Banked laughter sat behind her eyes as she watched him squirm. "Indeed." She said, enjoying his discomfort. She bought it anyway.

You're welcome! Glad you enjoyed it. =)

*cackles* Oh, this is more than worth the smug I-told-you-so-s I'm going to get from Brian that someone filled his prompt!

Thank you!

Yeah, I saw it and I just had to write something like this. Thank you!

Thanks :D

Aww, thank you, I'm so glad!

Thank you so much; I'm glad you liked it. <3

oh that's just lovely. <3

Thank you all! :)

It was small--hardly weighed a thing--but Marian was all too aware of the glass vial hanging in a pouch on her belt. That it was poison was bad enough, but Isabela had identified it as Black Hand, a particularly deadly substance that could kill a man in two breaths. Even tucked securely away as it was, padded with scraps torn from the dead guards' clothes, she felt it shift with each step she took. All it would take was one stumble, one misstep, and the vial could shatter--and she wasn't completely confident that her layers of clothing would be enough to protect her from the poison's effects.

Which was why, when Isabela whirled to pin her against a dirty Lowtown wall, Marian's heart jumped into her throat for reasons that didn't necessarily have to do with the pirate's close proximity.

"Isabela," she gasped as her hand shot to cover the pouch protectively. "What are you doing?"

The answering look in Isabela's eyes was enough to send Marian's blood racing to decidedly lower parts of her anatomy. "You never took me up on my offer," Isabela murmured. A rough fingertip dragged along the collar of Marian's armor, raising goosebumps in its wake. Isabela's lips curved up knowingly at the edges. "I'm not new to being turned down, but it usually involves the word 'no' at some point."

Marian wanted to answer, to explain that she'd been busy, and that Isabela's brazen offer had caught her so off-guard that she hadn't had the first idea how to respond to it. That would all require her to breathe, however--and somewhere amidst the solid warmth of Isabela's body pressing against her, the heat of her words brushing across Marian's jaw, and the feather-light touch of finger to skin, she seemed to have forgotten how.

Not that it mattered much. Isabela took her lack of words as an answer in itself, drawing back just far enough to press her mouth firmly to Marian's.

The strangled whimper that sounded in Marian's throat was entirely undignified, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. Isabela's lips were soft and full, tongue hot and slick where it teased at the entrance to her mouth. Desire twisted in Marian's belly as sure hands drifted down to her hips, holding firmly as Isabela's breasts crushed against hers.

When Isabela slipped a knee between her legs, Marian's own hands shot up to the back of Isabela's head, tangling in thick dark hair as she moaned into Isabela's mouth. Her head spun with the intensity of it all.

Just as she was on the edge of throwing caution to the wind and letting Isabela take her up against this dirty, cracked wall where anyone could pass by and see them, she felt nimble fingers slipping around to her front. She didn't realize their intent at first; she assumed they were working their way to the button of her trousers, or the buckle of her belt, and she ground wantonly against Isabela's thigh to urge her on.

Isabela's fingers were focused on another task, however--one that didn't become apparent until they had liberated the vial of poison from the pouch at Marian's belt.

For all her distraction, Marian still managed to be quick enough to close her hand around Isabela's before the pirate could make off with her prize.

"Really?" Marian panted, quirking an eyebrow.

"Can't blame a girl for trying," Isabela replied with a smirk. She rolled her eyes as she let Marian reclaim the vial. "Let's get it back to Martin, then," she sighed, stepping back to give Marian room to walk away. "He'd never have missed it, you know."

Marian shook her head with a practiced grin, hoping her disappointment wasn't too obvious. She'd been a fool to think Isabela would want her.

Before she could get too deep into self-recrimination, a sudden warmth pressed against Marian's back. She kept her hand tight around the pouch containing the poison, and Isabela chuckled into her ear.

"Maybe once we're done with him," Isabela murmured, her breath hot against Marian's neck, "I can convince you to finish what we've started."

This time, the grin that pulled at Marian's mouth was genuine. "Play your cards right," she teased.

"Oh, sweet thing, I thought you'd have caught on by now." Isabela's hand dragged along the small of Marian's back as she moved around to continue the walk to the Hanged Man. She glanced back over her shoulder, mischief glinting in her eyes. "I cheat."

Marian bit her lip, watching the sway of Isabela's hips for a moment before she rushed to catch up. She couldn't be done with this poison business soon enough.

He's my assassin. Sometimes people need to be assassinated.
He's my friend. He stopped the Archdemon with me.
He's the most loyal blade a woman could ever have, let alone a queen.
He's my Antivan translator. He's my dancing teacher, and there is no dance more graceful than one that involves daggers and death. He's the one that makes me laugh, leaning over the back of the throne as though my seat here was only at his will. He's the one that orders horses from the stables after a long day inside, flying over the fields ahead of me straight as any crow.
These are the answers she gives to the King, to the Antivan ambassadors, to the teryns and knights and arls who are all jealous of a knife-ear's privileged place at the side of a queen. His smile is lopsided as she deflects their curiosity, the crinkles at his mouth not quite reaching his eyes, which are cold and watchful for any threat. His fingers brush the hilts of his knives, polished lovingly smooth, when they ask the question.
"What is this Antivan elf to you, Your Majesty?"
In the dark corners of the palace those same fingers brush the skin at the hollow of her throat. When the moon is high in the sky and the only creatures watching are the cats, his kisses are not gentle pecks to her hand, but violent and needful against her lips. She grabs fistfuls of his hair and he cups her face in his palms, running his thumbs over the scars on her cheeks. His kisses are the secret she hugs to herself during the day, the memory burning on her mouth when they ask the question, "what is Zevran to you?"
"I'm your little indulgence," he whispers in low Antivan, and somehow it is the only answer that makes any sense.

When Isabela sauntered across the room and draped herself against the table he was sitting at, Sebastian realized it had probably been foolish of him to believe he could take a drink in solitude. Especially at The Hanged Man. But it had been a long day, and it was an unpleasant anniversary, and he'd wanted stronger drink than the Chantry kitchens would have afforded.

"Well, look what the tide washed in," Isabela drawled, leaning back on her arms in a way that highlighted her already impressive assets. Distractingly. "Let you out, did they?"

He frowned, raising the glass of Starkhaven whiskey--vintage the year he was born--to his lips, drinking deeply.

"You planning on drinking the whole bottle?" she continued, evidently undeterred by his silence.

"Yes," he replied.

She lifted her eyebrows in mock surprise. "Why, Princess. Didn't know you had it in you. Then again, all those stories, all those tantalizing little hints about the man you once were... he could hold his liquor, I imagine."

"He could."

She turned down her full lips in an exaggerated little pout. "Sounds like he was my kind of fellow, this lad of yours."

Sebastian drank down the remainder of his whiskey and poured himself another glass in one swift move.

"Not at all," Sebastian replied, as the heat of the whiskey warmed his belly. Feeling magnanimous, he offered Isabela the bottle, and the pout turned to a smirk as she took a hearty swig. "He was unrepentantly selfish."

She gestured broadly, taking herself in. Sebastian snorted and shook his head. "No. His selfishness was entirely genuine. Though you pretend very well, I grant you. I'm afraid I know the difference."

He didn't miss the little furrow in her brow, or the way her gaze suddenly shifted past him. "Not sure I like the way this talk's listing, Princess. Can't we just stick to the good stuff? Drinking and gambling and," she paused, and walked her fingers across the back of his hand, "taking pleasure?"

"Taking," he said, "grows very tiresome, after a time."

She sighed. "Always wondered if you'd be a happy drunk or a dark one. Pity it's the latter. Sure you wouldn't like to remember the nice things?" Isabela grinned down at him. "I could help. It would be fun."

"Would it?" he asked mildly, pouring yet another tumbler of drink. He offered the bottle again, and she raised the neck of it to her mouth, wrapping her full lips seductively around the entire lip, never taking her eyes from his as she drank. "It was fun for me, perhaps. Less so for them. I never cared as much for their pleasure. But it made for a story, I suppose. Fucking a prince."

A flush of color spread to her cheeks. He almost smiled. Of all the things to startle her. She regained her composure quickly, though, lifting one shoulder in a shrug and drinking deeply from his bottle again. "Bet your time being pious has taught you to be... kind to your fellow man."

He bowed his head, eyes following the swirling pattern of the wood table's grain. Out of the corner of his eye, he had a perfect view of Isabela's firm thigh. For a moment--just a moment--he let himself imagine those thighs wrapped tight around him, let himself imagine how glorious Isabela would look with her head thrown back and the fall of her dark hair tumbling around them, let himself imagine how warm she'd be, and how good she'd feel.

Then he pushed the image away, and pushed himself up from the table.

"Your bottle's not empty."

"Keep it," he said.

"It's no good, you know, pretending." Isabela crossed her arms over her chest, but this time, he felt certain, it wasn't to bring attention to her breasts. "You can hide if you want, but you're not going to be happy while you're doing it. And neither is she."

"That's enough," Sebastian said, but when he tried to step past her, she slid effortlessly between him and the door, reaching out to grab his wrist. He let her keep it, for the moment.

"Don't you remember?" she asked. "Don't you want to remember? The warmth. The comfort. The laughter. The connection. Surely you knew some of that, too. You're wound tighter than that bowstring of yours, and don't think I don't see it. There's more than this... self-flagellation and drinking alone. It's crimina--"

And because he could be as fast and as sly as she, Isabela's lips were still parted to speak when Sebastian darted forward and pressed his lips to hers. She released his wrist, but only so she could grab the back of his neck and tug him closer. It wasn't a tender kiss, or a gentle one, but it was still somehow kind, and it gave as much as it took. For both of them, he thought. She'd kept him company at a dark moment, on a dark day, and for all her teasing, all her prodding, he knew she meant well. In her incomprehensibly Isabela way.

And she was right. There was a kind of comfort in this.

Perhaps that true for both of them, too.

Standing so close, he wondered how someone so long bound to land could still smell of the sea.

"Isabela," he murmured against her soft lips, smiling faintly at the surprise still widening her eyes, "you seem to be under the mistaken impression I've forgotten. I haven't. But this choice is as valid as the other."

Then he gently pressed his lips to her still-furrowed brow and stepped around her, heading for the door and the cool night air that would clear his head and steal the warmth of kisses from his lips.

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Page 10 of 17

Dragon Age Kiss Battle: 2013 Edition

Re: The Leaving (m!Mahariel/Merrill, G)

FHawke/Merrill

Re: Alistair/Anora

Re: Alistair/f!Warden - Artwork!!

Re: What We Both Have Lost - F!Mahariel/Cauthrien, T

Re: Another First Kiss, Anders/f!Hawke, T

Re: La belle dame sans merci (Cullen/Surana, G)

Re: Interrupted - f!Brosca/Leliana - G

Re: If At First You Don't Succeed (f!Aeducan/Alistair, PG)

Isabela/Nathaniel Howe

Re: The More Things Change, Isabela/Alistair/(f!Cousland)

The Last Silver, M!Hawke/Companions, T

Laughter and Sweetness, Alistair/F!Amell, T

Re: Another First Kiss, Anders/f!Hawke, T

Re: The Last Silver, M!Hawke/Companions, T

Re: If At First You Don't Succeed (f!Aeducan/Alistair, PG)

Re: If At First You Don't Succeed (f!Aeducan/Alistair, PG)

Re: If At First You Don't Succeed (f!Aeducan/Alistair, PG)

Re: If At First You Don't Succeed (f!Aeducan/Alistair, PG)

Re: Mahariel/Morrigan

Re: Revisions, Bethany/Isabela, PG

Re: Carver/Aveline - Kirkwall, for One Moment, T

Isabela/f!Hawke, Ulterior Motives

Re: f!Cousland/Zevran

A Kind of Comfort Sebastian/Isabela, T