#alyssalenko

You Feel Like Home is a post-ME1 fic. It's set between ME1 and ME2, when the crew of the Normandy are celebrating surviving the fight against the geth and Sovereign. And it's the first time Joker gets to come to terms with his feelings for Shepard.

Blackwall’s shoulders ached. His shield arm had received the worst of the pummeling during the dragon fight, those claws nearly taking his head from his shoulders with a few swipes, the only barrier between him and the creature nothing more than his enormous shield. Even now, he saw it lying amidst his things, the reinforced shield warped into a hunk of useless metal. One more thing to mourn in the last few months.

With a groan, he shifted his body, attempting to find a better sitting position in order to take the pressure away from his back, but nothing seemed to help. Lying in his bedroll only exacerbated the issue, and attempting to sleep was going to be difficult, despite how exhausted and sore he was. An encroaching darkness turned the day’s earlier warmth into a cooler night, making him shiver even with sunburned skin.

“Alright over there, old man?” Sera asked, peering at him through choppy uneven bangs. He swore he saw a twitch of a grin. 

“Old man, hm?” He laughed, a deep chuckle reverberating in his chest. Sera was nothing but a troublemaker in the best of ways. She kept him entertained, kept him guessing, and their teasing banter, especially when directed at their companions, helped to pass the time with laughter. Briar even enjoyed those moments, finding peace in the midst of a troubling war against a creature that called himself a god, the joy was something they needed to keep going. “We all get a little old sometime.”

Sera scrunched her nose in disgust. “Ew. No, I ain’t. That’s just… icky.”

Blackwall didn’t bother correcting the menace, instead stretching his hands above his head, feeling the pull of the tight muscles in his shoulders and upper back. He wondered if it was a waste to snag one of the minor injury potions from Briar’s bag or if all he needed was sleep. As he lowered his arms, one particular muscle in his back twitched painfully.

A potion might be a good idea, after all.

Blackwall managed to get to his feet without more groaning, knowing that Sera was waiting for another opportunity to tease him about his advancing age. Instead, he kept his gaze on the Inquisitor’s tent as he approached, hoping he wasn’t bothering her with his aches and pains. Sera said something unintelligible to Bull who only laughed in response, and then he was forgotten, the two going back to their story swapping.

When he arrived at the tent, he found that Briar was not there. Even her leather bag where she carried most of the potions was gone. Strange, but not completely out of the ordinary. She was Dalish, after all, and her safe place was in the midst of trees, under an open sky, stars twinkling against velvet black, only lit by the fireflies as they floated among the treetops. She could’ve went for a walk, or perhaps went to watch the animals as they prepared for the coming night. 

It wouldn’t be the first time she’d disappeared for a few hours at dusk.

So, without a word to the others, Blackwall moved around the tent, looking for footprints in the dirt. A breeze rustled leaves in their trees, the fresh scent of new grass tickled his nose, and for a moment, he didn’t see anything but flowers, unbowed branches of magnificent trees, and smooth rocks tread over time and time again by wandering feet. But then, he saw the lightest indentations of a set of boots in the dust, headed further past the treeline, a clear sign that Briar had gone in search of something.

Cursing the tightness in his calves, Blackwall tried his best to maneuver through the forest, dodging dangling branches and stepping over the larger rocks in his path, attempting to not lose sight of the footprints as they danced through the grass and flowers, a woman at ease in her skin and in nature. A woman who was too good for him in every way and yet, somehow, she’d chosen to love him, flaws and all.

He didn’t deserve her and yet, she believed in him. It’d been so long since someone had done that.

Blackwall came to the edge of a pond a minute or two later. Pausing, his eyes surveyed the area, trying to figure out where the footprints led when he froze, realizing what he’d stumbled onto a second too late. 

Briar was in the middle of the pond, blonde hair tumbling down her back… her naked back.

She was naked.

Her lower half was submerged beneath the dark water with the rest of her body exposed to the cool air. Even from where he stood, Blackwall could see the gooseflesh along her arms, yet she continued to bath untroubled. Water trailed down her back, droplets shimmering in the rays of the setting sun, each one sparkling like iridescent gemstones. Her hair had turned golden in the light, like spun thread, the kind he’d sometimes see woven into garments for the Orlesian nobility. She was a vision, all lean muscle and curves, and for what felt like the millionth time since she’d absolved him of his past mistakes, he couldn’t believe she wanted him.

He must’ve made a sound, perhaps a choked gasp or something to that effect because before he could even attempt to leave her to her bathing, Briar glanced over her shoulder at him, dazzling blue eyes as wide as saucers. Caught, he ducked his head, eyes burning a hole into the ground in front of him, his entire body on fire.

“I apologize, my lady. I did not realize you were… I’ll head back to camp.”

He fumbled over his own feet as he attempted to turn, wanting to run back to hide in his tent, too horrified by how completely a fool he was acting. Like a schoolboy who was green behind the ears, as if he’d never seen a naked woman before… as if he hadn’t already seen this very woman naked in his own bed.

“Thom, wait.”

His feet halted immediately, unable to deny her her request. Her voice was like a melody, soft and sensual, a song he’d memorized and turned over in his mind when he finally laid his head to rest. Briar Lavellan occupied his every thought, day and night, and even in his horrifying embarrassment, he bent to her will whenever she wished him to.

She’d spared his life, gave him a chance to atone. He owed her at the very least.

But his devotion… he would never deny her a damned thing.

He waited, hearing the water slosh around her as she approached, his heart thumping hard against his ribs, nerves and excitement warring within. Briar elicited an array of different feelings in Blackwall, from trepidation when they fight on the battlefield to lust when they are curled up against each other. But there is always one he can count on the moment those azure irises meet his gaze: a breathlessness that never seems to leave and a warm sensation curling in his gut. 

Love.

A feeling that burned as bright as the fireflies drifting among the flowers.

A light touch against his jaw alerted him to the fact she stood next to him, feet sinking into the soft grass, water dripping from the ends of her hair and down her skin, a mesmerizing trail he wanted to follow with his mouth. “You can look at me, you know? You’ve seen everything before.”

Blackwall swallowed around the lump sitting in the center of his throat, praying to the Maker and holy Andraste that his hands would stop trembling, that his heart would remain behind his ribs where it belonged, that he didn’t make more a fool of himself than he already had.

Tilting his face towards hers, Briar watched him with soft eyes, as if she understood everything plaguing him. Maybe she did, she was perceptive, compassionate, otherwordly. And everything he’d never dreamed to have by his side.

Reaching a hand up, he ran his fingers through her wet hair, water droplets clinging to his skin when the strands dropped back to their place against her back. “You’re stunning.”

Briar smiled, the joy she radiated like the sun on one’s face in the midst of summer: warm and comforting, infusing him with a renewed hope and he knew he was a man unwaveringly devoted. She didn’t speak, only ran her hands over his linen tunic, dipping beneath the collar to leave a trail of water along his chest. He shivered at the chill of her skin, each touch leaving him hot and cold at the same time, a conundrum of chaotic feelings and desires, all focused on the woman in front of him.

She shifted closer, her naked body pressing against his, her breasts rubbing against his shirt, leaving water spots wherever they touched. Her mouth trailed hot kisses against the curve of his throat and he instinctively reached for her waist, his hands gripping tightly to her hips, trying to find some semblance of control over himself. Briar laughed quietly, her breath hot against his already overheated skin, lips barely touching him as she moved downwards, following the path her fingers took. She made quick work of the laces of his tunic, pushing the shirt open to reveal his chest to her gaze, and she hummed in appreciation, running her hands over the wiry chest hair.

“See something you like, Inquisitor?” He teased, enjoying how her skin flushed with her arousal, the heady scent of her surrounding him. She smelled like the trees and air, like the herby soap she washed with, the sweet-sour of sweat still lingering against her neck. Blackwall bent his head to inhale every part of her, wishing they were in his loft in Skyhold… or in the plush blankets of her bed.

“You seem tense.” She whispered, hands traveling lower, nails scraping against his soft belly until she reached the loose waistband of his slacks, tugging suggestively. “Perhaps we should find a way to relax?”

“I’m yours to command, my lady.”

Blackwall felt her smile against his chest, his heart attempting to escape when she suddenly pulled away to wade back into the pond. She only took a few steps before she threw a smirk at him over her shoulder, hand held out towards him. An invitation. One he would never turn down.

There was no hesitation on his part. After kicking off his pants into a pile at his feet, he clamored after her, taking her delicate hand in his much larger one, her softness in contrast to his roughness, and yet they worked well together. 

Pulling her closer, the touch of her nipples against his chest nearly undid him right then, the memory of the last time they’d laid together too long ago, marred by the secret threat of his past haunting his every step. Now, mistakes were bared, much like the soft expanse of skin in front of him, her paleness taking on the hue of the last of the sun’s rays as they finally dipped below the horizon, a dusty evening following close behind.

Briar’s hands tangled in his hair before she brought him down to meet her in a kiss, hard enough to bruise, sweet enough to drink in like wine. She was intoxicating, more so than any drink he could find at a tavern. Even Bull’s swill never left him as dizzy and drunk as Inquisitor Lavellan’s kisses. With a groan he couldn’t hide, Blackwall drank everything she willingly gave, his own hands exploring the curve of her ass, squeezing gently as he went, the give of muscle and skin in his grip only serving to further entice him.

Briar giggled against his mouth, hooking a knee around his leg, pressing against him more insistently. With one hand still firmly planted on her ass, Blackwall’s other hand snaked back around to the front, over her hipbone and down her thigh, tickling the curve of her knee to get another giggle from her, before gripping her calf to keep her steady.

With all of the strength within him, Blackwall broke the kiss, lips hovering barely out of reach, a smile tilting the corner of his mouth as he spied the flush against her cheeks and how her mouth chased his, trying to catch him in another seductive kiss. 

Pressing his forehead against hers, gaze unbroken, he whispered into the little space between them. “What is it you desire, my lady?”

The flush spread across her chest at the endearment and he only felt himself grow harder, needier, knowing the effect he had on her. She opened her mouth slightly, little puffs of breath leaving as she tried to concentrate on what he was saying. It took her only a moment to answer, those dazzling blue eyes he always looked forward to seeing each day like sapphires in the dark, endlessly deep and mysterious.

“You, Thom. I always desire you.”

It was all he needed to hear (and how he loved to hear those words tumble from her mouth).

Blackwall brushed against the curls between her legs, the hair giving way to soft flesh, and with a stroke of his finger against the mound he found, Briar gasped, burying her face against his chest, trying to soften the whimpers that left her mouth at his touch. Her reaction emboldened him, and he delved deeper, a finger entering her slowly, methodically, the thickness of the digit stretching her beautifully. She mewled, shifting her entire body closer even though there was barely room between their bodies as it was.

Andraste’s ass, she was already wet, drenched for him, and he knew himself well enough that the moment their bodies met, he would lose control. 

Briar’s mouth found his nipple, and she pulled the nub between her teeth, sucking and biting gently as she went. Need had him groaning again, pressing his erection against her stomach, in full view of every animal surrounding them, but that mattered little when she jumped to wrap her legs around his torso, situating her core against the head of his dick, hot and wanting.

Running his teeth against the pulse in her throat, he tasted the salty tang of her sweat, but also something sweeter. Something wholly Briar: honey, lemon, something that reminded him of mint. A bit of spice to offset the sweet. Whatever it was, he craved it like a dying man craved water. 

He sank into her heat easily enough, her walls stretching to accommodate his size, and she released a breath he didn’t realize she’d been holding.

“Doing alright?” Blackwall whispered at her ear, running a tongue up the length until he reached the tip, then reversed the motion. She shuddered against him, pressing kisses along his temple, his forehead, his hair. Sometimes, he wondered, if she loved the taste of him as much as he did her.

“I’d be doing better if you’d- OH!”

Her words cut off with a moan as he sheathed himself inside of her. Everything about Briar Lavellan was warm, so warm, but the place where their bodies met was scalding, as if he stood inside one of Skyhold’s hearths, the flames devouring his skin as readily as she did. He wasted no more time with pointless words, knowing they needed none to show their love and devotion to one another. All that was left was the sounds of their love making, wet skin against skin, the gasps and moans leaving both of their mouths, interspersed between kisses and love bites. 

As Blackwall’s fingers dug painfully into her hips, each rut bringing him closer to release, Briar pressed her lips to his ear, her fingers tugging at his hair enough to be just on the edge of painful, and with a low raspy whisper, was his immediate undoing. “I love you.”

With a gasp, Blackwall spent himself, the words she’d spoken repeating in his mind over and over as she too found her release, walls tightening around his cock, milking him for everything he had. She clung to him, her body trembling as her climax finished, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders and for a moment, he vaguely recalled the pain he’d originally came here looking to find relief for.

Now, all he could think about was how tight her pussy was against his cock, and how sweaty they were once again.

A gruff laugh escaped him as she released her hold on him, sliding down his body to her feet, so boneless she could barely keep herself standing without his support. She glanced up at him, brushing the mess of blonde out of her face. “What is so amusing?”

“I was thinking what a good thing it is that we’re standing in the middle of a pond.” Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pressed his nose against her throat, inhaling her scent once again. “We don’t have to go far to clean this up.”

She giggled, the sound a comfort to him. “Who said we’re cleaning up? I have more plans for you.”