Tag Archives: Dragon Age smut

A Seductive Contract – Dragon Age Fan-Fiction

Yes, I’ve been very inspired for short story fan-fiction in the past months, and this one is no exception. Another explicit smutty fic, this time taking place in Antiva, with the character from the Dragon Age book, Tevinter Nights, Lucanis Dellamorte. The story is password protected (with password indicated on the landing page of the story) and it includes artwork that I commissioned specially for this story by an artist I know, Kemvee.

I will probably write up a post about the fun process of getting the artwork done and how Kemvee was able to draw a character who we’ve essentially never seen.


Lucanis Dellamorte finds himself struggling while on a job
when his target attempts to seduce him.


Lucanis sat in the armchair of his target’s bedchamber, waiting patiently for her to arrive. He twiddled his knife to pass the time. The moon shone into the bedroom, creating a ray of triangular light on the bed.
        His target was a Venatori mage, not one of the most prominent ones, but one who had become a nuisance, and a threat to his cover. Lady Clelia had hired spies and assassins to find out if Lucanis had faked his death, which he had, and if he was actually alive, which he was very much so. She was a vocal advocate of him being alive, and he couldn’t lie low hidden in the shadows if someone was shouting from the rooftops he was still alive, regardless of whether they had evidence or not. Which was why she had moved up to the top of Lucanis’s target list. And now, on top of everything else, she was in Antiva, probably gathering evidence herself. Lucanis wasn’t going to let her reach Treviso.        
        This job wasn’t one assigned to him by any client, but he’d set himself a personal target list, a contract to himself, and he would treat this like any other job he took.
        After a time, the door to the bedchamber opened, and Lady Clelia walked in. Lucanis kept his gaze on her as she moved to the candelabra. He stood, moving swiftly to stop her from lighting the candles. He placed a hand on the wall, blocking her access.
        She paused and inclined her head curiously.
        ‘Demon.’
        Lucanis remained alert, still blocking her path, his other hand ready to grab hers, but she stepped away from the candelabra.
        ‘I was wondering when you’d show up.’ She walked to the dresser and pulled out a silky nightgown that looked more like a thin dress from where Lucanis was standing.
        ‘You’re not surprised,’ he said, trying to mask his annoyance. While he always assumed his marks knew he was coming, sometimes he wished that he’d catch them by surprise.
        ‘I told them, you know,’ Clelia said, letting her dress fall to the floor, ‘that you weren’t actually dead.’
        Lady Clelia still had her back to Lucanis. He could kill her now and have it done with, but he had questions for her first, which made her, in her state of undress, a different kind of challenge than any other target he’d gone after.
        She removed her bodice. Lucanis cleared his throat, trying not to let her curves distract him as a murmur of arousal threatened to foment inside him. She smiled slyly, turning her head to the side just enough to cast a glance at him. If Lucanis turned away, he’d be looking away from his target, and he needed to keep his eyes on her, and she knew that.
        Lucanis lifted his mask enough for it to sit on the top of his head, so he could bore into her eyes with his piercing gaze in an attempt to intimidate her – his gaze was known to make people turn away and break eye contact – but Lady Clelia simply droned on.
        ‘I told the other Venatori, “The Demon, Lucanis Dellamorte, is alive.”’ Lady Clelia turned to face Lucanis, her luscious breasts catching the light of the moon. ‘They wouldn’t listen.’ She slipped into her nightgown, which was in fact very thin and moulded her body perfectly. She took a few steps towards Lucanis. ‘Well, it was only a matter of time before I became your target.’
        Lucanis bore into Clelia’s eyes from where he stood, alert, holding his knife more tightly and standing firm.
        ‘How did you know, Clelia? How did you know I was alive?’
        Clelia smiled. Around her mouth were the lines that marked her many years, yet her face still looked young despite them.
        ‘I heard whispers,’ said Clelia. ‘The grandson of the First Talon who had once expressed wanting the title while drunk, suddenly the heir. What had changed the First Talon’s mind, I wondered. He says much when he’s drunk, your cousin, to the right audience.’
        Lucanis let out a mirthless chuckle, shaking his head. ‘Illario.’
        ‘The grandson the Venatori have been hunting, suddenly dead,’ Clelia continued. ‘And yet,’ she took a few steps forward, her eyes never glancing away from Lucanis’s gaze, ‘still Venatori mysteriously vanished, found dead, killed by a ghost, with whispers in the shadows of a demon, and the markings on the victims much like many others killed by one particular Crow.’
        Lucanis pressed his lips together, nodding. ‘And you noticed these markings, heard these whispers, but no one else believed you.’
        ‘Yet.’ Clelia kept her mouth open and she licked her lower lip, her eyes sizing Lucanis up and down. ‘I’m thirsty.’
        She walked to the mantle and poured herself a glass of wine. Lucanis found his eyes wandering to her bum and he caught himself biting his lip. He shook his head once and closed his mouth, looking back up.
        Lady Clelia turned back towards him. ‘I am a mage, Lucanis Dellamorte. You won’t succeed in killing me.’
        Lucanis waited for her to take a few sips of wine before answering. ‘What tells you I haven’t already poisoned your wine?’
        In a bound, Clelia was on him, her lips pressing onto his.


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Desperate Desire – Dragon Age Solas Fan-fiction

This fanfic was written with a bit of fun from readers. I made a series of polls on Twitter to determine the franchise, pairing, characters, etc. Readers also selected wanting angst to accompany the smut, with a bit of fluff.

As per, the excerpt is safe for work.


Solas can no longer bear being away from his Vhenan. He seeks her out
and allows himself to feel everything he desires of her, emotionally and physically.


Solas stared down at the table on which he leaned, tears brimming his eyes, consumed by his guilt and longing. A knot formed in his stomach. His own words echoed in his mind. “I felt the whole world change.” As did her words. “Var lath vir suledin!” Their kiss lingered on his lips, even after all this time, as had every kiss. It would linger for all eternity.
        Solas pushed himself off the table, shouting in anguish. Heaving, he trembled, the howling wind outside the White Spire the only other noise in the mountain range thaig.
        Solas thought back at how he came to this point, how it all began. He remembered waking and feeling so little, feeling numb, as it should have been, for it kept him focused.
        The people of the world he awoke to felt empty and devoid of true and deep emotion. They had a way of severing magical connections from mages and called these, Tranquil. He met Tranquil, and he felt that even those who were not sundered from magic were but a mere shell of what a true being could be, could feel, and the energy they could exude around them.
        Solas had felt devoid of emotions, neutral, and this was how he wanted it to remain. Stripped from the Fade in this world he had created when he held up the sky and separated the Veil from the world, sundered from magic, he was numb and weak, and only his regret remained.
        And then…
        Solas closed his eyes and whispered, ‘Vhenan.
        She made him feel everything around him, everything between them, as a tingle coursing through his veins. With every heartbeat, his skin was caressed with a ghostly sensation of crackling magical energy. A longing filled his heart, a need only she could satiate.
        Solas turned and clutched his stomach, feeling the pain physically as a wound in his gut. He balled his hands into fists and let himself slide to the floor, weeping.
        I cannot bear the thought of you alone.
        A loud sob escaped him.
        He had to find a way, some way, any way.
        Resolved, Solas lifted himself from the floor and marched to the place where he kept his disguises. He knew what he had to do.


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Lucid Dreaming – Dragon Age Solas Fan-Fiction Smut

Yet another Dragon Age Fan-Fiction short story that I wrote as a reward during the Dragon Age Day fundraiser, this one for Vampy, a scene between her Vianna and Solas.

As usual, the excerpt is SFW, and the content is password protected since it is explicit.


Vianna explores an area of the Fade marked by Solas’s fantasies
before living out one such fantasy.


Vianna walked to the balcony of her Skyhold bedroom and placed her only hand on the railing. Her nightgown swayed in the wind as she looked to the distant mountain peaks of the Frostbacks, scanning the area with her eyes. She was searching, but she knew she would not find what she was looking for by merely gazing at the horizon.
        Dusk was darkening. Vianna bowed her head, an overwhelming longing overcoming her; it was the same every night. A tear ran down her cheek and onto her flowing white hair.
        Sighing, she turned and walked to her bed. She lay down and shut her eyes, trying to think of something else, someone else, than Solas.
        Within moments, she found herself wandering a forest that resembled the crossroads. Fog rose high above her head; elven artefacts lay scattered across the ground where smoke rolled over her feet.
        This type of dream was what it was like every night. Vianna would fall asleep and enter a place in the Fade where she knew Solas had been. She could vaguely feel his thoughts, his emotions. Each night it was a different location in the Fade or, at least, one that never looked the same. Every night, she explored and searched for signs of Solas, finding nothing but more endless vastness to walk through. However, this time it felt different, and there was more to the place than met the eye; she could feel it to her core.
        Vianna walked past some trees and came to a clearing that resembled a hallway that continued far into the distance, and all along the sides were Eluvians.
The Eluvians in this place were tagged with paintings at the back that overlapped to the front, and as far as she could tell, all of them included depictions of her. As she walked to the back of the Eluvians to observe the paintings, she saw that some were limned with memories: Vianna and Solas saving his spirit friend from the Tevinter mages, Vianna and Solas sharing their first kiss in the Fade, Solas holding Vianna as he took the anchor from her hand when he saved her life.
        All these memories gave Vianna a sense of longing but also contentment, knowing how much Solas cherished these moments he’d spent with her.
        Vianna continued to walk from Eluvian to Eluvian, observing the colourful paintings at the back of each one. There was a progression. Many showed scenery of places Vianna had never seen before, but in each of these depictions stood Solas and Vianna. He was holding her hand, and his other hand was frozen in a gesture of beholding. Vianna took these to be places Solas would have liked to show her, either through his memories in the Fade or in person.
        They were beautiful places by the looks of them, vibrant greens and lush flowers in all of them. Vianna wondered if any were of Arlathan Forest before the fall of Elvhenan. Curious, she continued walking behind Eluvians to observe all they had to show her.
        Vianna noticed different paintings on the backs of more Eluvians a little ways further. These illustrated Solas and Vianna in action, doing things together, as though they were memories, but Vianna had no recollection of any of this occurring.
        Vianna wandered to another set of Euvians clustered together. She passed her hand over one of the paintings where Solas held her, where they were both naked. In the depiction, her head was lolled back, and her long hair gusted in the wind. Solas’s hands were on her hips, his mouth on her breast, and his erection halfway inside of her.
It almost felt real. And Vianna felt momentarily aroused by the sight of them making love. Such intimacy she had never known with Solas, an intimacy she had wanted and craved, an intimacy she desired still.
        Vianna walked to another Eluvian where Solas had painted them sitting together, holding each other, eating grapes. Many of them showed Solas holding Vianna in various settings, and as Vianna walked past Eluvians, more and more portrayed them naked together doing various acts of lovemaking. And with each one, Vianna felt more and more a physical need for Solas to hold her, touch her, and make love to her.
        It occurred to Vianna that these were wishes, fantasies, perhaps a future they could have had together.
        ‘Vhenan.’
        Vianna turned around. Solas’s voice was distant, airy, and echoed through the crossroads where she stood.
        ‘Vianna, ma vhenan,’ his voice rang out again.
        Vianna followed the sound of Solas’s voice. She knew there was a slim chance of finding him, but she would never give up on him, never give up hope.
        Vianna came to a place where many Eluvians shimmered.
        ‘Vhenan.’
        This time Solas’s voice was louder, clearer. One Eluvian scintillated more brightly.
        Vianna noticed something particular about this one. It appeared that a painting had been drawn onto the mirror itself, as opposed to on the back as for all the others. Vianna approached the coruscating mirror and saw a large black wolf flicker onto the Eluvian’s surface. The wolf had red eyes, and before it, a flow of Vianna’s white hair and her hand reaching out to it.
        Reflexively, Vianna touched the wolf painted on the Eluvian, and it flashed for a moment before the black wolf began to change. Its shape moulded into a smaller sized wolf, its softer eyes glistening of a blue-green as if from the Fade, and its fur a pure white sparkling like snow, matching Vianna’s hair.
        ‘Vhenan,’ Vianna heard Solas again, closer this time and more desperate.
        Vianna walked through that Eluvian and suddenly felt like she was falling, falling endlessly, and suddenly she landed on her bed in her room at Skyhold.
        ‘Vhenan,’ Solas whispered, breathing into her neck.


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The Warden and the Commander

I’ve written another piece of smutty fan-fiction taking place in the Dragon Age realm. A small note: Typically I stick to canon sexualities, but these two characters developed such a deep emotional bond, that it turned into a love they found they felt for each other.

This piece was written as a gift for Chantelle, as part of the rewards for the Dragon Age Day Tiltify donations.

The excerpt is safe for work, and the short story is password protected for those who wish to venture forth into reading this piece of smut.


Alistair and Cullen begin to regard each other in a way they never thought possible
when they develop a deep emotional bond.


Alistair walked beneath the raised portcullis of the Inquisition’s fortress, following Hawke and the Inquisitor. He looked around, noting how impressive Skyhold was up close.
        ‘Ah, you’ve returned,’ a familiar voice said.
        Alistair perked up, feeling a wave of joy as Cullen approached their group. He waited for Cullen to finish updating Inquisitor Areoelle, then Cullen turned to him and smiled.
        ‘Alistair Theirin.’
        ‘Cullen Rutherford. I hear it’s Commander now. Well done, my friend.’
        The two clasped hands and clapped each other’s backs.
        ‘We have to stop meeting like this,’ said Alistair.
        ‘First Kinloch Hold, then Kirkwall, now here,’ said Cullen. ‘And demons just keep popping out of nowhere.’
        ‘First in the Circle Tower, then in the city, and now right out of the sky,’ said Alistair.
        ‘Makes you wonder if we’re ever going to quell demons long enough to keep them from popping up again,’ said Hawke.
        ‘That’s why you’re all here,’ said Areoelle. ‘If we can find a way to stop Corypheus, we will.’
        ‘Come, come. We have much to discuss.’ Cullen led the way up the steps, as the Inquisitor put him up to speed on their discoveries. ‘I’m sure you have much to discuss on the matter amongst yourselves. I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything from me, Inquisitor.’ He turned to Hawke and nodded. ‘A pleasure as always.’ He looked towards Alistair. ‘Come find me later; we’ll catch up.’
        He turned and headed towards one of Skyhold’s towers. Alistair found himself feeling somewhat wistful. He shrugged it off, focusing on the matter at hand.

* * *


        There was a knock at the door.
        ‘Come in.’ Cullen stopped pacing and looked up from his parchment. ‘Alistair!’ He was pleased the former Templar had taken him up on his offer for a catch-up. ‘It’s always good to see you.’ Cullen placed the parchment on his desk.
        ‘We seem to have odd jobs that somehow always bring us to the same place, at some point.’ Alistair had a smile on his face, but Cullen knew with what was happening at the moment, he must be having a difficult time of it.
        ‘How are you, truly?’ he asked, sobering.
        ‘Honestly? Sometimes I just want to bash my head into a wall,’ replied Alistair.
        ‘That bad?’
        ‘The echoing voices aren’t the worst part of it,’ said Alistair. ‘It’s the dreams. And it’s not even a real Calling.’
        ‘I’m sorry.’ He walked over to where Alistair stood and leaned back on his desk. ‘We knew Corypheus was dangerous, but this…’ He shook his head. The warden gave him a wan smile. Cullen reached for a bottle on one of the bookshelves behind him. ‘Brandy?’
        ‘Yes, please!’ Alistair chuckled. He inclined his head and Cullen followed his gaze to the broken shards of a lyrium bottle. He met his gaze.
        ‘I’ve stopped.’ Cullen was resolute in his decision and no longer wavering. Alistair’s eyes widened momentarily. ‘I wanted to break all ties to that past.’
        Cullen uncorked the bottle of brandy and poured some into two glasses.
        ‘Then I suppose it’s my turn to ask you how you’re doing,’ said Alistair.
        Cullen handed him one of the glasses. ‘I feel like ramming my entire body into a wall.’ Cullen tried to suppress a smile, but couldn’t help but feel relieved he could share openly with his fellow former Templar.
        ‘To bashing heads and ramming walls,’ said Alistair, raising his glass. Cullen echoed the toast, chuckling. ‘And to dashing gentlemen.’
        ‘That we are.’ Cullen smiled.
        The two sipped in silence for a moment. The brandy was warm in Cullen’s throat, coating it thickly, unlike lyrium, though stinging on the tongue just enough to help let the craving pass.
        Cullen opened his mouth to speak, and the two began talking at once. They stopped, laughing. Cullen took another sip, letting the other man speak. Even with all that was going on, Alistair was enthusiastic, much as Cullen remembered him from earlier encounters. It wasn’t that they had become friends as it were, but life always seemed to put them in each other’s paths. Cullen did appreciate the warden’s company, and couldn’t help notice that Alistair’s smile reassured him.

* * *


        The night air was crisp as the wind hit Alistair’s cheeks. Leaning over the parapet, Alistair closed his eyes, breathing in the fresh scent of the Frostbacks. Afar, he heard someone shouting.
        Alistair craned his neck, listening.
        ‘Get off me, you demon!’
        ‘That’s Cullen!’ Alistair gasped. Unsheathing his sword, he ran to the commander’s office; Cullen kept shouting in distress. Alistair kicked open the door, brandishing his sword, but only found Cullen in the room. He was sitting in his chair, his head had lolled back, and his body kept tensing as he mumbled and shouted.
        Letting out the breath he realised he’d been holding in, Alistair sheathed his sword and walked to Cullen’s side. He placed a hand on the man’s shoulder to steady him.
        ‘Cullen. Cullen! Wake up.’
        ‘No, I won’t let you torture me, you fiend!’
        ‘It’s me, it’s Alistair. Cullen!’ Alistair gently shook Cullen.
        Jerking awake, Cullen shouted out, sitting upright. ‘Unhand me!’ He lifted his arm, his hand in a fist, then his eyes widened.
        ‘It’s all right, Cullen. You’re all right.’ Alistair soothed.
        ‘Alistair!’ Cullen let out a shaky breath. Sweat dripped down the side of his face. ‘What are you doing here?’
        ‘I heard you shouting,’ said Alistair. ‘Gave me a right fright, you did. Came ready to rescue you, you poor damsel.’
        ‘I, uh…heh. Thanks.’ Cullen shifted, leaning his elbows on his desk. ‘I was having a nightmare.’
        ‘Yes, I think I heard something about demons.’ Alistair elongated the word humorously, trying to make light of the situation. Cullen deflated. Alistair pulled up a chair and sat next to him. He placed a hand on Cullen’s shoulder. ‘You want to talk about it?’
        Cullen’s eyes deceived a yearning Alistair had never seen in him before. ‘I have never been able to speak of the horrors I saw at the Circle or in Kirkwall.’ He looked down at his hands. Gritting his teeth, Cullen balled his hands into fists. ‘What the mages did to me, what I had to do to them… Everything that Mederith commanded me to do that I blindly obeyed because I thought it was the right thing to do.’ Cullen looked at Alistair. ‘I was wrong. What happened was wrong; what I did was wrong. It haunts me every day.’
        ‘These things tend to,’ said Alistair. ‘But you’re not alone.’
        Cullen’s lips slowly curled into a warm smile. Alistair felt a tingle in his stomach, and he stared back at the man until the two let out a short laugh, turning away.
        ‘Did you really come to my rescue?’ asked Cullen, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.
        ‘Would you have preferred I left you to fend off demons on your own?’ Alistair returned the amused smile.
        ‘You don’t think that I, Cullen Stanton Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisition, can defeat a horde of demons?’
        ‘I think that I, Alistair Theirin, bastard son of the late King Maric Theirin and Grey Warden, can defeat a larger horde of demons.’
        ‘Oh-ho!’ laughed Cullen. He chuckled and playfully shoved Alistair.
        ‘There, all better?’
        Cullen beamed at Alistair, his eyes tender. ‘Yes. All better.’
        Again, the two men glanced fondly at each other for a long moment before turning away.
        ‘I should probably get back to reading reports,’ said Cullen, scratching the back of his neck.
        ‘They must be boring if you fell asleep on them,’ replied Alistair. He stood and walked to the door. ‘I’m just down the walkway if you need me.’
        ‘Thank you.’
        Alistair left Cullen’s office, shutting the door behind him. He took a few steps forward before looking back at the door. He smiled. Then he returned to the tower where he was staying, feeling light in his step.

Continue Reading “The Warden and the Commander

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