[OPEN] Peace Bore a Heavy Price

[lifeofendurance]

WHO: Everyone
WHAT: Aleron and Nathaniel are hosting an BSG boxing match open sparring session to work out personal griefs within the Inquisition.
WHEN: Drakonis 30, All Day
WHERE: Just outside Camp Shady (aka, the Warden's Camp outside Skyhold)
NOTES: More information, including the rules, can be found here. You do not have to have signed up to participate. Non-combatants can come and just cheer for their favorites or appreciate fine bodies getting physical. Please note in your subject line if you're spectating, healing, or open for fighting.



Just outside the site where the Wardens have established themselves, a space has been cleared. Its boundaries are marked with some wooden posts driven into the ground with loose ropes stretched out between them. A copy of the rules has been nailed to one of the posts. It flaps in the wind, but seems to stay in place with but little fraying as the day wears on:

1. No magic.
2. A volunteer healer will determine whether someone is fit for a bout.
3. Conduct the fight honorably. If someone surrenders the fight, it ends immediately and without question.
4. Don't deliberately incapacitate someone to the point where they won't be able to perform their duties after the fight is over.
5. All weapons must be blunt, even blades.
6. Challenged chooses the method of competition.

At the end of the fight, participants are to consider their issue resolved and move forward.

Off to one side, a basic triage is set up for combatants who have taken their licks. Volunteer healers are present to offer treatment for injuries and to determine who remains fit to fight. Their decision is absolute.

For the spectators, there is ample room to stand around and watch. One of the merchants from the pilgrim's encampment has caught wind of the impromptu event and decided it's a grand time to turn a profit. He's got a cookpot set up and is hawking fine treats like fennec-on-a-stick, druffalo kebabs, and smoked nug legs. He's also selling wooden cups of ale for five coppers, but it's questionable if there's more water or ale. Let the buyer beware.

Comments

[pinprick]

[Nathaniel nods his head and gestures toward the water bucket over there somewhere, with a dipper in it.]

New rule: the winner buys the three of us drinks after this.

[justice_is_blond]

Is that so?

[He's trying not to watch Zevran too much, but the glancing between them is... Well, maybe it makes sense. Zevran likely loses at seduction as often as the sun decides to travel backward across the sky, so he's trying to figure out how to win the final round and the game.]

I don't remember agreeing to that. Maybe I should let Zevran win.

[As if he he needs to let that happen. If anything, it's covering himself for the inevitable. Anders nods thanks to Vitta when she comes around with the water, taking his drink in turn. He doesn't sound serious in the least as he talks.]

I had a braided belt in mind for my coin, after all. There's a pretty one that could support the weight of cat and potions both.

[ombranera]

I will win on the merit of my own skills or not at all- [ He won't win this anyway, it's fine. ] I do have my pride, Anders.

[ No, no he doesn't. Pride is for other people. Vanity is his in spades of course, but pride? That is not for Crows or former Crows. He takes the dipper of water with a quiet word, waving her over to Nathaniel next. ]

Besides- you know I am quiet a cheap date. No reason to worry after your coin.

[pinprick]

[The banter washes over Nathaniel as he tries to clear his head, tries not to think of how lovely the curve is on the slope from Anders' neck to his shoulder, or the shade of his hair. He drinks deeply of the water and dabs delicately at his lips with the edge of his sleeve to remove a drop from the little patch of hair under his lip.]

The tiebreaking round, gentlemen. Zevran first.

[Because, in the interest of fairness, Zevran should get his chance while Anders's scent isn't still in Nathaniel's nostrils. And maybe the first time was a fluke. Maybe his humours are out of whack. Maybe Zevran really is as attractive to him as Anders and he just hasn't figured out how yet.]

[ombranera]

Really now?

[ And he had just become settled and comfortable on the fence- though it does give him an idea. Less time spent on his toes if he simply stays and draws Nathaniel to him. Still he cannot think of any real way to play this that will be fun and fine and easy- he has half a mind to disqualify himself by reaching for something he shouldn't simply so he might be done with his part and watch these two sort themselves out about one another.

But- fair is fair. For once. Tugging on that same sultry mask as is familiar

Zevran reaches out to grasp Nathaniel's wrist (again, look, hands are a thing for him as much as they are for others), to tug him ever so gently. Reeling him in to stand in the space between his spread thighs- but not so close as to touch. All at once the best possible trick comes to him and he smirks as much to Nathaniel as he does to Anders as he nudges Nate to turn about. Casually possessive his arms slip about Nathaniel's waist, his chin tucks over his shoulder, lips barely brushing Nathaniel's ear as he speaks softly. No one else might hear unless they were right on top of them.

Probably against the rules- but if he has to continue to watch such obliviousness on either of their parts? He might cry. ]

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have more than teasing, with him? [ A completely different tack than before. ] To have more than his smiles, more than a few idle comments? To have his mouth against yours? He truly does have a way with his tongue when given proper incentive.

[ One of his hands lifts, carefully, to rest over Nathaniel's heart, eyes flicking to Anders as he continues. ]

Though that is not to say he cannot beg sweetly as well. On his back or on his knees he is a wonder to behold. Can you imagine having him under your hands, under your mouth? How he might beg for you to stop teasing him and take him? His back arched to writhe against you, the grip of him around your cock- if wound tightly enough he loses a hair of control and his skin lights up with crackles of lightening. It is like making love to a thunderstorm with how he clings and cries out. The bite of his nails in your back, the slick clasp of his body around you- or would you have him ride? Those hands tangled in your hair, thighs straining as he takes every inch while still smirking, still crackling those little breathless laughs between each moan, well within reach should you wish to take his mouth as he takes his time and oh, when he comes? Like staring into the sun with how bright and blinding he might be, can you imagine the sound of your name on his voice?

[ This is most definitely cheating, but Zevran is not so kind a man as to not. He pitches his voice low, takes on Anders' voice and intonation, and moans. ]

Nate, maker, please-

[ Words more than anything, but words have weight, words have meaning, and he murmurs all of this with the same sultry affection that he can offer. Aside from a single soft press of his lips to Nathaniel's jaw and a pat on his chest when he releases him- Zevran does little more than reach for a cup of water he'd balanced next to him on the fence. ]

He might need a moment.

[pinprick]

[Andraste's blood.

Nathaniel has half a mind to turn around and shove Zevran off the damn fence. He is too much of a gentleman to do it, especially to an elf or a mage, so instead he staggers back to his camp stool and sits carefully. His face is flaming red and he is sweating, and so hard it hurts.

The images don't go away. They won't go away. Anders is going to be all over him in a few minutes and he has to be able to pretend nothing is different. He's going to have to be collected enough to give the prize to Zevran, because Anders would suspect something if he won after that performance.

He leans forward, head in hands, still red as a beet. It takes at least ten minutes for him to calm down. It feels like an hour. Putting those thoughts away is not easy, nor is their absence as welcome as he hoped. But when he has recovered, he stands and manages to look ironically professional.]

Anders?

[Doesn't look yet. Looking will bring back the images.]

[justice_is_blond]

[This show isn't nearly as good as the last time... until Nate starts turning red and sweating, and not looking at either of them. As the archer staggers to his seat, all Anders can do is look at Zevran. What on Thedas did the elf say? All he did was talk and Nate looks like he's about ready to come on the spot. Granted, Zevran can talk beautifully, and Anders knows it. Maybe he just sketched out what he'd do if there were no restrictions. The more Anders thinks about it, the more likely that is. The look he shoots Zevran says he thinks talking someone through a sex act is cheating.

How is he supposed to beat that, anyway? Anders sips his water and waits, finding little comfort in the fact that he won't be buying the drinks. He doesn't like losing, but maybe that means he should have challenged someone else to seduction.

Like Aveline.

When his name is called, Anders pushes up off the fence. Last go. At least he can make sure Nate enjoys it.

He starts simple and slow, looping his arms around Nate's waist and looking into the archer's eyes before nosing the little patch of hair Nate had brushed water from. The things look ridiculous on most men, but Nate carries it well. Frankly, he carries most things well.]

I've no idea what he said, but it doesn't matter. Words are one thing - empty - when not acted upon, and all he gave you was a kiss on the jaw.

[There's a confidence he doesn't feel in his voice as he shifts to his toes to give himself the height he needs for his next move.]

Words are never as good as deeds.

[Anders kisses his mouth then, starting soft and slow with a nibble of Nate's bottom lip before pressing in earnest, mouth opening, tongue darting out to try to lure Nate's into playing. One of his hands leaves Nate's waist and he takes his time dragging it upward, along stomach, chest, and neck before tangling it in Nate's hair.

He'll lose, but he'll lose with the delectable taste of Nate's lips on his tongue and the smell of the man in his mind. There are far worse ways to go down.]

[pinprick]

[Everything is going fine until Anders nuzzles his chin, and Nathaniel's nose is filled with the scent of his hair. Then, there are lips.

Oh Maker, there are lips.

There's a frozen moment where Nathaniel simply allows Anders to do as he pleases. Then, something gives and the dam breaks. All those images Zevran planted in his head come raging back, as does the erection he spent so long cooling off from. He surges forward, meeting Anders' kiss like a starved man, and doesn't stop, marching forward and backing Anders against the nearest tree, shoving him against it and pinning him there. Everyone who is attending can see what's happening. He doesn't even care.

Maker have mercy, he gives up.]

Time to find somewhere less public? [he murmurs, for his ear only. Hopefully, some part of Anders was sincere about this, or Nathaniel will feel like such a fool.]

[justice_is_blond]

[He'd hoped, just a little, for a kiss back. He'd not at all been ready to be shoved back against a tree, or to feel exactly how worked up Nate is pressed against him. Not that he's objecting. Anders holds Nate close, welcoming everything he's given and only leaning back to give Nate a shocked look when the archer speaks.]

Months, [he says in a jokingly mournful tone,] months I hit on you, years back, here, and all I had to do all along was kiss you? Yes. Yes, you inscrutable lump. As private as you need; I've no shame.

[Anders shakes his head before leaning forward and kissing Nate lightly on the lips again and taking one of the archer's hands. Let anyone talk who wants to, he doesn't care. And let Zev sit there, Anders just beat him at seduction and he's feeling so very smug right now. He does have charms.]

[pinprick]

[Feeling strangely giddy, Nathaniel allows himself to be led, but casts a grin back at Zevran. As distinctly as he can, he mouths:

You win.]

[ombranera]

[ Zevran offers them a salute with his cup, smirk wide and feeling oddly...


Sad? Wistful? He does not put a name to the feeling and squashes it down as quick as possible. ]