May 26-30, 2014

Disclaimer: I was anon for several days! At least two. Written for this prompt on the DA kinkmeme. Do not archive without permission.

Moral support

Leaving Aedan and the others to construct traps for the shy girl on the corner, Alistair wandered off into Lothering on his own. He had offered to help, but Leliana had told him that she didn't really think trap-making was for him, and Alistair had to admit she was right. He was good at making goofy jokes and hitting things with a sword, but building traps, no.

Alistair crossed the bridge and headed for the chantry. There was one other thing he thought he was getting pretty good at, actually. And maybe, now that he had some free time, he could put that particular talent to good use. He'd been thinking about this since their first visit to the chantry. It was just possible he'd stepped in mud a few more times than necessary around Lothering because he had something on his mind. There was a lot of mud to step in, in his defence; the whole village was churned up by all the people coming and going.

He pushed the door to the chantry open and stepped inside. The chantry was less muddy than the rest of the village, and brightly lit, but it was noisy and crowded. It smelled of beeswax candles and desperation.

Ser Bryant looked up in surprise when Alistair approached him. "I must say, I didn't think you'd be back here, any of you."

"I had to come," Alistair said. "I think what you're doing here is, well, a good job in a hard situation. All you templars are really doing your best for the people of Lothering, so I just thought it was the least I could do to give you something back, to show that you're appreciated."

Ser Bryant looked unimpressed. "I thought your group came here looking to get assistance, not give it. What is that you think you have to offer the templars of Lothering?"

Alistair smiled sunnily. "Me."

That got him another stare, longer and more thoughtful. "You're not here offering to fight at our side, are you." Despite the way he phrased it, Ser Bryant sounded a little hopeful.

"No, no," Alistair said. He was a warden, and he was sticking to Aedan's side, except for little excursions like this one. "But I just thought, well, you look like a fellow who could really use a good sucking-off."

"What?" Ser Bryant said weakly.

"Your cock," Alistair explained. "In my mouth." He looked around. "Do you have a little side room for yourself and your fellow templars, where you hang out and do templary things together? If we go at it right here, there might be lightning bolts, or the statue of Andraste falling on us."

Ser Bryant's eyes darkened. "You're serious," he said, and then, "Come with me." He gestured at his fellows as he led the way to a side door, and moments later Alistair was in a small room with three templars.

He thought he remembered, from the days of his chantry education, that this would be a private chanting room, intended for sisters and brothers who meant to become chanters and came here to practice together. Now it was crowded with random screens and chairs shoved in here to make room somewhere else, and a pile of bedrolls in one corner. It smelled more of dust and less of people, and despite the smell, the wooden floor looked clean enough. Alistair figured the best thing he could do was get on his knees.

"Devout, is he?" one of the templars said.

Alistair looked up at Ser Bryant. "You want to go first, don't you." He reached out and pushed the tabard aside and began to work on the armor underneath, because if there was one thing he knew, it was templar armor and how to get important parts free of it. It didn't take him long to get Ser Bryant's cock in his hands, already better than half-hard and thickening rapidly against his palm. A nice size, Alistair thought, big enough that it would be a challenge but not so big it would be all hard work. He leaned in and licked over the head, curving his tongue around just to get a feel for it.

"Maker's breath," the templar behind him said.

"Patience, Thom." Ser Bryant's voice was a little huskier than before. "This good Andrastean is offering his services to the devoted knights of the Maker. You'll get your turn."

Alistair put his hands on Ser Bryant's thighs for support and began to suck in earnest. He drew Ser Bryant's cock into his mouth as deep as he was comfortable with and played with his tongue against the underside of the shaft, feeling it throb heavily. Alistair really liked having a cock in his mouth. He liked the way the thin, smooth skin felt against his tongue, the weight of it, the faint salty taste of skin and the occasional sharper tang of precum. There was more to it than that, though. He liked the way it filled his mouth up, liked to suck and hear a man groan and clutch at his head when he rubbed his tongue at that spot just under the head. Mm, like that.

Despite Alistair's hands holding him in place, Ser Bryant was pushing against that grip enough to thrust his cock shallowly in and out of Alistair's mouth. The shaft slid over Alistair's tongue, and he swallowed around it, creating pulses of suction. When he bobbed his head forward, the tabard fell against his face, and he pushed it away again.

"I think," the templar Ser Thomas said, "we might as well get our armor off now, save this excellent fellow some trouble."

There was a bit of clanking and rustling behind him, but Alistair didn't pay any real attention to it. He had a good rhythm going now, sucking steadily while he let Ser Bryant thrust a bit, and it felt good, the way the shaft rubbed over his lips and stroked his tongue. It felt good for Ser Bryant, too, judging by the way his breathing sped up and every exhale was turning into a soft grunt.

"Maker," Ser Bryant said between his teeth, "I can't-"

His cock twitched, and Alistair could actually feel the way it grew thicker with the rising rush of ejaculation just before the first spurt of cum shot out. Alistair swallowed and kept swallowing, drinking it all down for as long as Ser Bryant kept coming. Then he pulled off with a last little lick and grinned up at Ser Bryant. "You really needed that, didn't you."

"Oh, Maker, yes," Ser Bryant said. He steadied himself with one hand against the wall. "I thought I'd last a bit longer. You're very good at that."

"I could use someone to pray on their knees for my sins," Ser Thomas said. "You kneel for me, and I promise I'll sin."

"Mind the way you talk," Ser Bryant said, but not very harshly. "A word of advice, you might want to sit down for this."

Alistair shifted around, not bothering to rise to his feet when he knew he'd be on his knees in moments again anyway. Both Ser Thomas and the third, nameless templar had stripped off most of their armor and were looking considerably more accessible. Ser Thomas sat down on a hard chair and spread his legs wide. "I'm all yours," he said.

"You won't regret saying that," Alistair promised him, coming to kneel comfortably between Ser Thomas's legs and leaning in to nuzzle at his groin, where a hard cock rose to meet his mouth, nicely curved, the head already wet with anticipation.

"He looks uncomfortable in all that heavy mail," the nameless third templar said. "It would be a charitable act to help him out of it."

"It would indeed," Ser Bryant agreed, and as Alistair began to suck on Ser Thomas's cock, Ser Bryant and the nameless templar worked together to strip him of his armor.

He had to release Ser Thomas's cock and sit back so they could get the mailshirt over his head; then he went back to sucking as they freed him of metal, leaving him in just trews and shirt. A hand stroked his arse through the thin cloth, squeezing a bit. Alistair wriggled in response.

"Seems a shame that it's just his mouth being busy," the third templar said. "I wouldn't mind being offered a different service here, if you take my meaning."

Alistair pulled off Ser Thomas's cock enough to say, "Just be careful, please. I haven't taken it much in that end."

"Oh, we'll take care of that," the templar said and smacked Alistair's arse. "I mean, with that. We'll take care with that. Bry, can you get me the oil?"

Despite the rough smack, the templar's hands were gentle enough as he pulled Alistair's trews down and began to play with his arse. Alistair moaned around the cock in his mouth as a well-oiled finger slipped into his hole, then two, stretching him, fucking in and out. The templar's fingers pressed down with every thrust on that spot inside Alistair that felt so good to have touched and rubbed, and he almost lost his concentration on what he was doing, just letting Ser Thomas's cock slide in and out of his mouth for a while as he arched his back.

But he wanted Ser Thomas to think he was a good cocksucker, too, just as Ser Bryant had, and he did really like having a cock in his mouth, so Alistair put his mind to it and sucked and licked earnestly, no matter how distracted he was by those fingers pumping in his hole. Sure, they were templars, but he had templar discipline, too. He could handle this, although his attention wavered a bit again when another finger went in.

"He looks ready," Ser Bryant said. "Feels ready, too." When the fingers thrust deeper, Alistair shuddered as he realized that last finger was Ser Bryant's, that both Ser Bryant and the nameless templar were fingering him. Together. He could feel their hands and arms against his arse, the inside of his thigh.

Then those fingers pulled out, and there was a slick sound of oil on skin. "I won't keep him waiting," the nameless templar said. Alistair moaned and sucked harder, feeling blunt pressure at his hole, then the stretch and slide as the nameless templar worked his cock in. He was slow and careful, taking his time, and he groaned when he finally sank all the way in and Alistair could feel skin against his, the weight of another body.

Filled at both ends, Alistair shuddered, shivered, knowing he could let his body have that freedom, because he was held steady between two cocks, and any small movement he made only served to rock him either forward or back, so he'd be taking it deeper either way. It made him feel safe, being between men this way. Secure in where he was and what he was doing. Wanted. He couldn't think of anything except cock, what he was doing to those cocks, what those cocks were doing to him.

It made him feel safe, and it made him feel good.

He sucked, playing his tongue against the shaft in his mouth, pleased when Ser Thomas groaned. The nameless templar began to fuck into him in short, steady thrusts, shifting his angle by degrees, sometimes grazing that spot inside and sometimes missing it. Then the short thrusts turned longer, deeper, harder, and there was a firm grip on Alistair's hips as the nameless templar banged into him. This vigorous fucking shoved Alistair forward, pressing Ser Thomas's cock deeper into his mouth, until it hit the back of his throat and he choked.

It was only then that Alistair realized that he was being fucked by a man whose name he didn't know. That realization made him try to laugh, because he wondered whether the man should have introduced himself politely before sticking his cock in, except the laughter turned into more choking and coughing, as laughter and breath and cock fought for space in his throat.

"Oh, Maker," Ser Thomas said, sounding as if he could see the Golden City hovering on the horizon. "Oh, Maker!" His hips bucked up, the head of his cock lodged in Alistair's throat, and he was coming, thick pulses of cum shooting out, while Alistair's eyes watered and his throat spasmed, trying to choke out this foreign object.

Ser Thomas sank back against the chair, and the last of his cum dribbled out on Alistair's tongue. Alistair swallowed, because it was that or cough like crazy, and he couldn't really cough with a cock still in his mouth. When Ser Thomas finally pulled out, Alistair lifted an arm and wiped the back of his hand under his nose. "That nearly got a bit too messy," he said.

"Yes, sorry about that," Ser Thomas said, though his voice was thick and slow with satisfaction. "It was fantastic, though." Alistair flushed a little at the praise.

"So's this," said the nameless templar, still thrusting deeply. He moved behind Alistair, pressing in closer, and with the new angle he hit the good place inside on every thrust, but it didn't last long. Alistair barely had time to feel the pleasure of it before the man groaned and jerked, pressing in and in, hips tight against Alistair's arse.

Then the nameless templar pulled out with a satisfied groan, and Alistair shifted on his hands and knees, preparing to get up, when he felt a warm hand on his back. "Don't move just yet," Ser Bryant said. Alistair looked back over his shoulder to see that Ser Bryant was hard again, stroking himself with one hand. "I think I want to find out for myself if your arse is as sweet as your mouth. Particularly now that Sev got you all worked up."

The nameless templar, who wasn't nameless any longer, moved way and Ser Bryant took his place between Alistair's legs. He slicked up with oil, and Alistair saw now that it was fine lamp oil from an unlit lamp. Then he couldn't twist around to look any more. Ser Bryant thrust in, an easy well-oiled glide that went right to the spot that made Alistair moan. Alistair's head fell forward as he braced himself on his arms.

Ser Bryant was good at this. He fucked with long, regular thrusts, at just the right angle for his cock to keep rubbing over the good place, heating Alistair's blood. Alistair couldn't help pushing back into the fucking, his own hips tilted to get the pressure where he wanted it, as hard as he wanted it. He bit his lip. He'd come to make the templars feel good, but he had to admit he'd been hoping to enjoy himself, too.

"Seems a shame the others are missing this," Ser Thomas said. "I'll go get Maron."

The sound of the door opening and closing was distant and unimportant, compared with the heaviness in his hips and the tightness rising into his belly. Alistair groaned. "Seems our good Andrastean wants a reacharound," said the no-longer-nameless templar, whose proper name was probably Ser Severin.

"That would only be charitable," Ser Bryant said. His thrusts were steady but his voice was ragged. "We must give back kindness for kindness." When he shifted and leaned over Alistair's back, his cock pressed down hard just where Alistair wanted it. Alistair saw brightly colored spots swimming in his vision. All it took was Ser Bryant's fingers grazing his cockhead, and he spent himself shudderingly on the floor.

Ser Bryant kept pounding away, but the sensation was distant for a while, as Alistair just breathed and waited for his head to stop spinning. When he started to come back to himself again, the fucking started to feel good again, too. Alistair's breath hitched in his throat as that undeniable warden stamina had him arching back again, so ridiculously soon, wanting more. He was very impressed by Ser Bryant, who wasn't a warden at all, obviously, but who was still lasting really long this second time and being incredibly thorough, as if he had a quota of thrusts to reach and he was going to make sure that Alistair felt each and every one.

"You can," Alistair said, trying to sort out what he wanted to say, "it's perfectly all right if you, nn, if you just come in me. You don't have to... I mean, if you want to."

"Oh, I will," Ser Bryant said, but he still kept on fucking, so he was clearly one of those men who could last as long as they wanted on a second go-round. Not that Alistair was complaining. Oh, Maker, no.

The sound of the door opening and closing was much clearer to Alistair this time, and he tensed up for a moment as a new voice said, "Maker's breath."

"I told you, Maron," Ser Thomas said, and Alistair relaxed again, groaning when the slight change in his posture made Ser Bryant's cock go even deeper. "You don't want to miss this."

"No," Ser Maron agreed, "I really don't." He chuckled. "I understand why you didn't get Wes, though."

"I'm sure he'll get thanks for his hard work some other way," Ser Thomas said. "But you can get yours now -- that mouth is amazing."

"No," Ser Bryant said harshly. His breath was coming short now, and his thrusts were choppier. "Wait." Then he started to move faster, and his hands tightened on Alistair's hips. Alistair fell forward on his elbows, bracing himself with both forearms against the floor as Ser Bryant really started to go at it, hard and fast and incredibly good. Not long enough, though. Ser Bryant hammered in a few final thrusts and spent himself with a groan. He hung over Alistair's back for a few moments, then said, with surprising clarity, "Take over here, Maron. He needs more."

"But this is all for you fellows," Alistair said weakly. It wasn't much of a protest, because he knew what he wanted. "Really, if he'd rather..."

Ser Bryant slapped his arse, just as Ser Thomas had before. "Be a good boy and don't argue when you're getting fucked," he said, and in less time than Alistair would have believed possible, Ser Bryant pulled out of his hole and Ser Maron thrust in.

"Don't worry," Ser Maron said. "I'll get you there." Alistair groaned in return, because he was almost there already; feeling Ser Maron's cock drive in had been a little uncomfortable and a lot pleasant, a heated stretch and then slow sure thrusts that rubbed right over the place where he wanted them. Alistair gave up on trying to be unselfish, spread his legs wider and just took it, panting for more.

He lost track of time, a bit. There was just the fucking, and the way it made his body feel heavy and tight. The near-constant pressure on the right place inside kept him hovering on the edge, so close, so very close but not quite there after all. Alistair arched his back, trying for a little more, a little deeper, a little harder. Anything. He whined between his teeth.

"Don't torture the poor guy," Ser Bryant said, a little disapproving. "I didn't get him all worked up so you could be a tease."

"Of course not." Ser Maron sounded tense, but not in an angry way. "I just want to make it last a bit longer." His thrusts slowed, and Alistair bit his lip to keep his opinion about that to himself. For the templars, this was for the templars of Lothering, a way for Alistair to show his respect and admiration, and if Ser Maron wanted to go slow, Alistair probably shouldn't wrestle him to the floor and ride him. Even if it was rather tempting. Alistair's whole body thrummed with the buildup of tension.

"He might need--" That was Ser Bryant again, apparently so used to being in charge that he even told his templars how to fuck.

"I don't think so," Ser Maron said, and then he shifted his grip on Alistair's hips and started pounding in, finally, and fire raced up Alistar's spine, scorching his skin, crackling in his ears, turning his vision into a bright golden haze.

Someone shouted, "Yes!" Alistair thought it might have been him. He spent himself on the polished wooden floor for the second time, his body tightening into a shuddery clench that made Ser Maron grunt as if he'd been gut-punched, managing no more than three thrusts after that before he finished, too.

Ser Maron pulled out a little too fast, but Alistair wasn't about to complain, not when he still had golden lights flickering in his vision. Besides, it was all he could do to keep himself from falling forward into the wet, sticky puddle he'd made on the floor.

"That was amazing," Ser Maron said.

"Yes," Ser Severin agreed, "it really was."

Alistair thought so, too. Definitely the best thing Lothering had to offer. The templars helped him to his feet and wiped him off a bit, then got him into his armor again. Alistair felt a little wobbly in the region of his knees, but he thanked them with a smile when they slung his sword and shield into place.

"No, we owe you our thanks," Ser Bryant said. "You've given a fine gift to the templars of Lothering, and we'll remember it for a long time."

"Oh, I really hope so," Alistair said. If they got the townsfolk evacuated in time, it might even be true. "And it was my pleasure, really. I'm sure you noticed that." He smiled at them, and they smiled back. Templars looked better out of their helmets, there was no doubt about that. And now he knew they felt better out of their armor, too. "Is there a back way out of here? I don't think I'm in any shape to meet the Revered Mother right now."

There was a back way. They all saluted him, fist to chest, and Alistair flushed a bit as he returned the gesture. These were good men, the templars of Lothering, and he was glad that he'd been able to show them a little of the respect he felt for them. All he'd meant to do was practice his cocksucking skills on them, but he'd learned quite a bit about fucking, too. Coming without a touch to his cock had been fantastic. He couldn't wait to try it on someone, or have them try it on him.

Alistair walked away from the chantry, heading for the bridge back across the river, intent on finding his traveling companions again. They couldn't still be building traps. And if they were, well, he was glad he'd found a better use for his time.

Going up the stone arch of the bridge, Alistair felt the start of a slow, viscous trickle, and he was very grateful to be wearing armor, so no one could see the templar cum leaking from his arse and dribbling down the inside of his thigh. Maybe he'd better look into getting a bath somehow.

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