Another story about DragonAge. The guard, as usual, is new. Yes, in the original Morrigan not speaks in white verse, and since I don’t recognize a different voice acting, do not judge me.

The guard twisted from side to side. It was cold to him - neither the heather, which he prudently sketched on the damp earth at the place of the night, nor the warm cloak with which he was trying to shelter, saved him. The night was unusually dank and, it seems, there was no way to sleep without freezing up all the entrails. So, you have to warm up with walking - to the detriment of sleep.

Crawling out of his camping home (the extremely modest size of the Guardian’s tent did not allow her to leave in a more proud manner), the Guardian put his hands on his shoulders and rubbed them energetically with his hands. For some time it helped, but it was not worth hoping for a long-term effect - the pants and the podtospehnik obviously were not able to warm it.

Sleeping Stan was snuffling nearby - he had no problems with the cold, although Par-Vollen was probably much warmer than here. Of course, he spat at the cold, after Winn tied wool to him in a fit of platonic motherhood!

"And why I I did not think of complaining to the old woman, how cold is it in Ferelden? ”the Guardian thought enviously.

Kunari snored loudly, expressing utter contempt for the difficulties of the commander. Cursing through his teeth, the Guardian got into his boots and went to perform his midnight exercise, no longer trying to take his palms off his own shoulders.

Only now he was struck by the fact that he was not alone in waking camp. Next to a small fire, Morrigan sat at her own tent, looking at the flames. Without hesitation, the Warden went to her. It is difficult to say, however, that at the moment he was attracted more - the beautiful enchantress or the soft crack of the logs, but he was unable to resist their joint attraction. With a quick step, he approached the fire and squatted, stretching out his palms to the fire.

- In a tent So cold, as if explaining his nightly vigil, broke the silence of the Morrigan.

The guardian wanted to agree with the sorceress without a second thought, but, looking up, he met her gaze, and the backward thought immediately appeared. Morrigan could say anything about the cold, but the fire that burned in her eyes was more than enough for two - and the Guardian was sure that it had nothing to do with the reflections of the fire.

- So there it is So coldly? - He asked.

- oh yes there highly coldly. One, - clarified the sorceress.

The guard shook his head.

- This can not be tolerated.

- ABOUT? So you will join me? - quickened Morrigan. - But what are we going to do in a cramped tent, together, trying to warm up?

“I will be able to come up with something,” the Guardian said confidently.

The sorceress smiled, staring at him with a predatory squint. No wonder she was a werewolf - now something in her gaze showed something wolf.

“Then there’s no need to waste time on stupid chatter,” she concluded, beckoning the interlocutor with a nod of her head.

The guardian pulled his legs out of his boots, took a couple of steps barefoot on the damp grass, and, bending down, penetrated after Morrigan into her home. Calling her tent close, Morrigan clearly wriggled her soul - at least, compared to the warden's hut, it was a real palace. Two could fit there quite freely, and they had more than enough of what Stan would call "room for maneuver."

Morrigan, meanwhile, put her hands behind her back and with a slight movement of her thin fingers dismissed the knot.With a barely audible rustle, the upper part of her robe fell, revealing beautiful shoulders, a flat stomach and a beautiful, moderately large chest - just the size to fit comfortably in your palm - the Guardian involuntarily noted. He did not fully close the canopy behind him, and now the glow of the orange flame fancifully danced on the gentle skin of the witch. To say that the Sentinel has always been attracted to her is to say nothing, but never before has Morrigan been so attractive.

“Come to me, my Gray Warden,” she smiled.

There was no need to voice the proposal - this deep, glowing look spoke for itself. The guardian, who had already gotten rid of a few elements of his suit, stepped towards her, staring his eyes intently into his eyes, and laid his hands on his waist. One movement of the palms was enough so that the remaining half of the witch’s wardrobe slipped down, and Morrigan, sitting down on the hide spreading on the ground, lay back, dragging the Guardian behind her. He did not lose time and with one jerk he thrust into her hot, pulsating depth.

Yes, Morrigan is spoke about the cold - the heat of her body was able to excite the golem. The guard was not made of stone, and with each new movement he burned more and more. Morrigan put her arm around his neck and with a force unexpected in her thin body pressed the Guardian to her, sharpening the sensations. The enchantress did not hesitate to give herself up to passion - frequent hot breath and hard nipples betrayed genuine excitement. The abundance of lubricant made it possible to penetrate deeply without much effort, but this did not diminish the pleasure of the Guardian - his member fit very comfortably in the womb of Morrigan, and the tightness of her vagina rather quickly brought him closer to the peak of pleasure.

Quickly - but not faster than his mistress. With a short cry, Morrigan dug his nails into the Guardian’s broad back, pulling him toward him. To know all the power of her passion Guard has happened only now, during orgasm. The witch bit her neck, wheezing, moaning, rubbing her breast against his skin. After half a minute of vigorous convulsions, during which the sorceress managed to thoroughly ruffle his skin, Morrigan froze, and a moment later, with a long moan, she relaxed.

But far from relaxation was the body of the Guardian. Rolling over on his right side, he turned his partner over his shoulders with his back to himself - a prudent decision, considering how deeply scratches he had just received were taken - and, having corrected the friend's hand, he entered it again.

Very soon, the Guardian's palms confidently lay down on the elastic Morrigan breasts and began to massage them eagerly. Now he pressed her to him, feeling the curves of a flawless back and the exhilarating heat of her buttocks. The Guardian did not forget to pay attention to the nipples, he tugged at them, squeezed the appetizing hemispheres, and then again began to roll them between his fingers - and all the time, with every second accelerated. He controlled his desire less and less; it threatened to spill out in all its overwhelming power and to overwhelm both of them with a head. With his nose, he buried Morrigan in his knotted hair - he smelled her scent, although the Guardian could not understand whether it came from the hair or from her whole desired body. Subtle, reminiscent of the rich twilight of the forest, the intoxicating aroma of heated wood bark and thick green foliage over his head, it could be both a reality and the fruit of a passionate imagination. However, the Guardian would not be surprised if it really turned out to be associated with some drugs Morrigan - after all, her knowledge of herbs was hardly limited to poisons and medicinal poultices.

The trembling of a young body in his arms and the rhythmic contraction of his heart told the Guard that Morrigan was once again ending. The hands of the Guardian on her breast she covered with hers and, moaning softly, tried to move as much as possible towards him. But the discharge of the Guard itself was far from being so close, so he did not even think about stopping.

For some time he continued to vigorously burst into her in the same position, and then jerked up, still holding the orgazmiruyuschuyu mistress in his hands, and leaned back against the wall. The tent's tight skin caved in, but held its pressure. The guard thus acquired a stable position, and Morrigan, who had barely recovered, spread her legs wide and fell to her knees, finding herself on her partner, but still had her back to him. The Guard's hands slid down, stroking the elastic thighs and asking ...