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Standing in the dripping, fetid caverns of the aptly named 'Bone Pit,' it finally dawned on Eliza Hawke that she had never seen Maraas wearing a shirt.
The surly Tal-Vashoth stood, arms crossed per usual, maintaining a wary lookout towards the entrance to the mine – wholly unnecessary, Hawke thought, since the workers had all fled, and whatever danger they faced had come from deeper within the caverns. Hawke grimaced as she pulled her daggers from the twitching corpse of a giant spider, wiping the ichor against her leather breeches as she turned towards the dour qunari with a crooked grin.
"Well, that's the last of them," she proclaimed, sheathing her twin daggers. "I can't wait to see the look on that Orlesian shitgoblin's poncy face when he realizes he still has to pay all his Fereldan miners." She spat derisively. "One of these days, Hubert is going to get what's coming to him. Just might be me who gives it to him."
Maraas stared at her with that oddly intense yet neutral expression of his, and Hawke forced herself to contemplate his face and not the broadly muscled chest so blatantly on display.
"I do not understand," he said in his customary measured tone. "You work with this man, yet you clearly despise him. You accept his contract, his terms, and his payment, yet you object to the way he conducts his business and treats his workers. Why aid him if you loathe him so?"
"I'm not aiding him, Maraas," she explained, willing herself to keep the exasperation of our her voice. "I'm doing this for the miners, not for that fucking toadstool. If I didn't intervene, he'd let them all be devoured by spiders or dragonlings or worse, because he doesn't give a shit about anything but his gold." She had attempted to explain the moral vicissitudes of mercenary work to Maraas before, with limited success, and it appeared that little she'd said had really made an impression on the taciturn horned man. She understood why, at least on an intellectual level – life as a Tal-Vashoth marauder had offered him little opportunity to examine the motivations for his actions, and his previous life under the Qun had offered even less. For the first time, Maraas was truly the master of his own fate – little wonder that he hardly knew what to do with himself. It had taken a considerable amount of cajoling on Hawke's part to get him to work with her, but she'd felt so sorry for him, languishing endlessly at the Hanged Man, distrusted by most of the patrons after the Qunari attacks of the year before – helping him learn to find his own way in the world seemed like the least she could do. If, that is, he would actually bother listening to her, the stubborn ox.
Heh, ox. Hawke chuckled at her own private joke, and Maraas lifted an arched eyebrow.
"Have I amused you?"
"No," Hawke said, her inability to keep the mirth from her voice putting the lie to her words. "I mean, not exactly. Not on purpose. I just find your stubbornness infuriating and endearing in equal measure."
"I am not stubborn."
Hawke guffawed. "Sure thing, big guy. All right. What say we head back to the surface, let the miners know they're safe, and then have a few words with Monsieur Arseface?"
"I do not believe that is his name."
"I know that's not – arrgh! See! Infuriating!" Despite herself, Hawke couldn't keep from shaking her head at the qunari's deadly serious expression – Maker's balls, she knew the qunari were a literal people, but Maraas took it to a whole new level.
"I am sorry I upset you."
"You didn't – ugh, nevermind. Let's just go. I'm freezing in this dismal pit." She ran her hands up her goose-pimpled arms for good measure, wishing she'd thought to wear thicker leathers. To her amazement and chagrin, Maraas, though entirely bare-chested, appeared oblivious to the biting chill in the air. His smooth grey skin was unblemished, and his posture as relaxed as though he were still lounging idly in the Hanged Man.
Her attention thus diverted, Hawke took the time to appreciate the view. Maraas was a gorgeous specimen of qunari manhood, his broad shoulders and firmly muscled arms a testament to his incredible strength, while his defined chest and the rippled muscles of his abdomen looked as if sculpted from marble. If only she could better see the rest of him – his firm, tight arse and muscular thighs, and Maker knew he had to be hiding a massive cock in those infuriatingly loose breeches –
"Hawke." Hawke's face reddened instinctively as she realized Maraas had spoken her name at least twice.
"Oh – yes, that's me, what is it?" She cursed herself a fool as soon as the clumsy words spilled from her lips, and saw him raise his eyebrow again.
"I merely asked you to lead the way, as I am uncertain of our current destination, but you were not listening. Is there something wrong? You are staring at me. Why?"
Well, that was blunt. "Um… no reason. Anyway, you're right, best to be on our way, we're burning daylight!" Hawke spun on her heel and headed towards the cavern exit, hoping that Maraas was not keen enough to notice her blossoming blush.
"Do you wish to have sex with me, Hawke?"
Hawke stumbled in mid-step, her toe catching against a protruding rock and causing her to tumble forward in an undignified heap. She caught herself against the side of the cavern wall, and, for a moment, willed herself to silently die there. Alas, the Maker was not listening.
"What?" she yelped. "Why – how – I – no!"
Maraas frowned. "I apologize. I observed your intense scrutiny of me, and your facial expressions and posture were consistent with sexual desire. I clearly misread the situation. I do not wish to cause you discomfort."
Hawke stared incredulously at the qunari, wishing with every fiber of her being that a sinkhole would open up in the floor of the cave and swallow her whole. She was not that transparent – was she?
"I… I didn't think you were a master of reading body language," she said, infusing a petulance into her words that she desperately hoped disguised her morbid embarrassment.
"I am not," he said. "But your eyes lingered for approximately five seconds at the juncture of my thighs. In my time spent among your people, I have observed an inordinate amount of fascination with the male member, and I presumed you were curious about my phallus. Again, I apologize."
His phallus? Who even says that? The matter-of-fact candor in the qunari's manner broke through Hawke's shield of humiliation, and she put her hands on her hips, fixing him with a heated glare.
"You know what? Maybe I was thinking about your phallus," she shot back. "Or, you know, your cock, since I'm a mercenary, not a bloody art critic. And maybe if you ever put on a Maker-forsaken shirt I wouldn't be forced to stare at your chiseled abs and think about what you might be hiding under those trousers!"
Maraas looked down at his chest, as if realizing for the first time that he lacked the garment in question. "I have never worn a 'shirt,' Hawke," he said patiently. "My people prefer to enter battle wearing vitaar rather than bulky armor that might slow us down. You have not objected to this before."
"I don't object!" she exclaimed. "But Maker's balls, you can't just parade around in those pantaloons with your washboard abs gleaming in the sun and expect me not to wonder what else you've got going on."
"I don't expect anything," he said. "I asked you if you wanted to have sex, and you said no. If you would like to have sex with me, I am amenable, but I confess I am now very confused as to your intentions, Hawke."
For the first time in her life, Hawke was struck truly speechless. Well, this had to rank as the oddest come-on she'd ever gotten in her entire life. "I… wait, I thought you were insulting me, or offended that I was, er, checking you out. That was an actual invitation?"
Maraas frowned, frustration breaking through on his taciturn features for the first time. "I do not understand you or your people," he growled. "Why are your interactions so opaque and duplicitous, so cloaked in riddles and double-meanings? You deliver insults, but intend them to be compliments. You desire sex, but deny your urges. How can I learn to live among you if I cannot trust the words you say to match your intentions?"
Hawke's first instinct was to fire back a flippant rejoinder, but she realized, as she opened her mouth, that Maraas had made a fair point. She had lied to him, in a way, when she'd denied wanting him – of course she wanted him, she'd literally just been fantasizing about the size of his cock, for the Maker's sake. And yet she'd been embarrassed and defensive when he'd correctly identified her desires and offered to indulge them. She was unaccustomed to his blunt, unadorned way of speaking, and her first instinct had been to retreat into the familiar human ritual of banter and coyness – which she now realized must only read to him as deception and lies. All this time she'd been trying to teach him about human culture, and she hadn't bothered to understand his own.
"Ugh," Hawke said, her ire deflating. "I'm sorry, Maraas, I didn't mean to confuse you. I'm just not used to such candor. I guess, among humans, flirting is kind of a… a game, I suppose? You banter and tease back and forth, until one of you gives in. I wasn't prepared for you to just baldly ask me if I wanted to fuck you." She offered him a wry grin. "Though, for the record, I'm certainly not opposed."
For the first time, Maraas allowed himself a small smile. "Flirting. Interesting. It sounds entirely too complicated and unnecessary to me, but if it pleases you, then I suppose I can try to… flirt."
Hawke laughed, and this time allowed herself an undisguised lusty examination of Maraas's bare chest. "You don't need to learn how to flirt, sexy," she said, her voice a low hum of appreciation as she approached him, daring to place her palms flat against the muscular plane of his chest. "Your perpetual shirtlessness is flirtatious enough."
Maraas gave her a true smile, and Hawke felt herself melt – she had never seen the taciturn qunari smile before, and it suited him – he looked so gentle, almost innocent, like he'd just discovered how to make her happy and reveled in the discovery. "Then I am especially glad I do not prefer to wear one," he said, and Hawke gasped as his hands found their way to her waist, encircling her and pulling her close. She leaned in, ready to meet his lips with hers, when he pulled back and frowned. "But should we not leave this place? You are uncomfortable with the chill in the air, and I confess that a bone-strewn cavern is a less than ideal place to consummate a sexual relationship."
"I dunno," Hawke said slowly. "We are in the 'bone pit,' after all." She snorted. To her dismay, Maraas frowned.
"I don't understand," he said. "Is there something erotic about bones in human mating rituals?"
Hawke burst out into laughter. "I mean… you know, boning? Haha, bone? Get it?"
"No."
Hawke sighed. "It's another term for cock," she said. "Or phallus." She snickered again.
"But there are no bones in the qunari penis," he said, the confusion evident on his face. "Perhaps human phalluses are different –"
"Oh Andraste's tits, never mind! Shut up and kiss me!" Hawke exclaimed, pulling Maraas to her and locking her lips to his.
She had always admired his lovely mouth, his bow-shaped lips full and luscious, and had imagined kissing him slowly on many an occasion. She was pleased to discover that they were just as soft and warm as she'd always imagined, and she was further pleased to discover that he was more adept at kissing than she'd imagined he might be. He skillfully moved his lips against hers, and when his tongue probed at the entrance to her mouth, she admitted him eagerly, her quim tightening in desire as he swept his rough tongue against hers in an increasingly passionate kiss.
"Mmm," she groaned against him, her hands finding purchase on the broad smooth plane of his back as he crushed her close to him, her breasts pressed against the rock hard sculpture of his chest, separated only by the thin layer of her leather armor. Maker's balls, he felt good in her arms, the interplay of his muscles beneath her hands a promise of the strength and vigor that she would soon get to experience in the most intimate possible way. Her cunt moistened with the thought, and Maraas, his lips now trailing a soft path down her neck, grunted in desire.
"I can smell your desire, Eliza," he murmured, and she gasped out loud as a firm, thick finger traced the crevice of her lips through her thin leathers. His touch left her shaking, and her heart pounded with anticipation and desire – and the intimate realization that he'd never called her by her first name before. Desperate to retaliate, she slid a hand down his chest, pausing to drag a fingernail against a taut nipple, before she reached the waistband of his trousers and cupped her hand against his stiffening cock through the tented fabric of his pants.
"What a lovely phallus you've got, Maraas," she said, squeezing him playfully, a thrill of victory shooting through her as he grunted in surprise at her touch. "Much easier to examine this way, don't you think?"
He detached himself from her for only as long as it took to divest himself of his trousers, and Hawke's eyes popped as she beheld his fully erect cock in all its glory. She'd thought she'd seen large cocks before, but none of them could compare to the qunari's massive manhood, stiff and rigid against his belly. A pearl of glistening desire had already formed at the tip, his eagerness for their union as blatant and obvious as her own. Seized by a sudden urge to taste him, Hawke dropped to her knees and sucked him into her mouth, her lips applying suction along his length as her tongue swirled against his head, tasting his salty essence as her fingers dug mercilessly into the firm flesh of his ass, leveraging herself against him as she swallowed his cock.
Maraas roared in desire, his fingertips digging into Hawke's skull as he held her against his twitching cock, and Eliza felt her cunt throbbing again at the thrill of making such a stoic warrior lose his composure so thoroughly. Maker, he tasted so good, but as much as she loved taking his cock this way, she knew she wanted to feel him inside her, her quim milking him until he spent himself inside her. Sliding her mouth off his cock, she placed a kiss at the tip of his head and stood, divesting herself of her own armor. Maraas eagerly surveyed her naked body when at last she stood bare before him, and there was no cultural misunderstanding this time as she registered the ravenous desire in his eyes.
"You will be tight for me," he said, and Hawke's cunt throbbed at the truth and promise of those words. "I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't hurt me," she assured him, and somehow knew it to be true, despite his intimidating size. "Fuck, I haven't been this wet for anyone in – hell, ever. You're bloody gorgeous."
He smiled again, and Hawke's heart thrilled at the sight – she could certainly get used to this man, so stoic and awkward on the one hand, but so gentle and curious on the other. "It appears you are indeed capable of 'candor,' after all."
Hawke laughed, blushing as she realized how confusing she must have been, and what unnecessary angst she'd put them both through. "I suppose I am," she agreed. "Well, don't worry, I won't let another day pass without reminding you just how bloody gorgeous you are."
"I look forward to it," he said, smiling at her again, and this time Hawke came to him, wrapping herself around him and pulling him to the rocky ground with her. She was briefly aware of the discomfort of the cave floor, but when Maraas filled her with his cock, she was aware of nothing else.
Maker's balls, he was so big, but she wrapped her leg around his waist ever higher, wanting to feel all of him inside of her, the ecstasy of feeling him pressing against her inner walls driving her mad with pleasure. A low groan of desire issued from her as he moved rhythmically within her, and she grasped eagerly at his back with frantic hands, wanting him to move faster, take her harder, deeper, more, she wanted all of him –
She yelped as he nipped at her earlobe, his breath hot and ragged in her ear. "Fuck, Maraas," she breathed, pressing her lips against his jaw. "You feel so fucking good."
"I am pleased, kadan," he murmured into her ear. "I want you to come for me."
"I will," she agreed, hitching her leg up higher against the small of his back, taking him in deeper, feeling his cock gliding against her like he was made for her. "I'm ready for –" Whatever pillow talk she'd intended was erased from her mind as she felt a thick, rough digit sliding down her slick cunt to press against her nub of desire. A mindless scream tore from her lips as she came hard against him, her body trembling uncontrollably with the reverberations of her desire as he pressed against her again and again, milking her orgasm, and she barely heard his own grunt of completion over her own hoarse cries as he emptied himself into her.
At long last they came back to themselves, slick with sweat and smelling richly of sex, and Hawke reluctantly rolled away from Maraas's embrace to gather up her hastily discarded leathers. She turned to regard him, still laying naked on the cave floor, and a wild, giddy grin spread across her face.
"So, I hope you enjoyed your trip to the bone pit," she said, slipping into her leathers. "I certainly hope it's not our last."
"It is my intention to return, certainly," he agreed, standing up and retrieving his own trousers. "Though, perhaps next time, we could visit the 'bone pit' in a more metaphorical manner.'"
Hawke burst out laughing, and leaned over to place a kiss against his cheek. "Agreed," she said, then gave him a conspiratorial look. "In fact, I think we could turn the whole city into our own personal bone pit. Whaddya say?"
Hawke was surprised to hear his laughter join her own, as they made their way out of the Bone Pit and back towards the city, and a new day filled with new promise.