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I didn’t care that he was a boy or that he was my best friend or that we probably shouldn’t be doing this; the only thing I cared about was the way his lips moved with mine.My heart was leaping. This wasn’t gross or weird. This was good. This was new, exciting, thrilling. I could have stayed like that, kissing him, all weekend long. His lips on mine just felt so good. He put his hands around my waist and pressed me closer to him; our dicks grinding each other. Daniel groaned as we pressed our bodies together, my hand running through his back, I could feel him getting sweaty. Our kiss became harder, more intense. What started as a soft embrace quickly developed into something wilder as I pushed my tongue into his mouth. He ran his tongue over my lips, as if tasting me. My hands found his way down to his butt. I did what any sane person would have done in my place, I squeezed it. Daniel groaned even louder as a result.I do not know how long we stayed like that. It could have been a. Then I saw her, sitting at the end of the bar by herself. I knew right then that she was different. She had raven black hair which was an extreme contrast with her milky white skin. She had a zip up black hoodie on but I could tell her breasts were big and full. The short skirt she had on was another story, and did little to hide her shapely long legs. She was gorgeous in a different type of way. Not the type of woman I usually see out on a Friday night. I watched her for about an hour getting hit on by most of the guys in this bar. Mostly amateur's. I chuckled to myself as she turned down one after another. Between the guys hitting on her I would watch her scan the room as if she was searching for something, or someone. I knew she was going to be my prize tonight and I made my move. I sat down beside her at the bar and casually ordered my drink. I looked over to her as she looked me up and down as though she was inspecting a piece of merchandise. She started to speak, but I.
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Fergus had seen better days; he had a thick, unkempt beard, and his hair was longer than Cailan’s; he had a scar running from one ear, across his cheek to his mouth, making his lip pucker strangely. He was filthy and wearing what must have been scavenged armour, but he was unmistakable despite that. He looked a great deal older than he had in game, and I wondered what he had been through since Ostagar.As Wynne worked, the gash in his shoulder stopped bleeding, then slowly closed; she rose carefully, obviously drained, and I hurried to her side to offer my support as she got her balance back. None of the small group of soldiers looked able to answer questions, and Aedan was clearly so torn between relief that Fergus was alive and fear – that he might still die, that he’d react poorly to the news out of Highever – that he was in no shape to make the necessary arrangements. Cailan came back to my side from where he’d been talking to the guards who’d initially spoken to the ragtag.

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