"That one would be a very hard one to top, yes." It was one of Varric's best stories to date, popular with Kirkwall's masses and elite alike. He had to wonder how many accepted it at face value. Among some of the refugees, hers was a name much larger than life.

He shivered lightly for that whisper and touch, more than ticklishness at play. His inhale through his nostrils was audible and quick.

It was back to eyes closed, losing himself in sensation. All of the little back and forths were gaining momentum in him, a slow burn on the rise. He made a soft noise when her hand settled in his hair and met the flick of her tongue with the tip of his. His fingers curved against her back in a harder press, the dig of short nails blunted through cloth.