Dragon Age Fic: Corrections – Josephine/M!Inquisitor (NC-17) 1/?

[anxiousgeek.livejournal.com]

Title: Corrections
Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition
Rating: Adult
Character/Pairing: Josephine/M!Inquisitor
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Smut, romance, angst, fluff.
Summary: Josephine and Maxwell Travelyan met for the first time at Lady Trevelyan’s summer ball when they were young adults. Now, a decade later and Max is the Herald and Josephine his Ambassador.
Notes: Another Dragon Age Kink Meme prompt with a life of it’s own.  A WIP. Damn these prompts.

The Summer Ball

Josephine felt a tug on her elbow, and almost stumbled as her father urged her off the dance floor. He was a short man but strong, his own dark hair curled like her own, wearing his spectacles on his forehead. She always suspected it was because he’d forgotten about them rather than the fact he didn’t need them. He wasn’t necessarily a forgetful man, but Yvette said it was down to his artistic natures, which – much like her sisters – gave way to a scatterbrain.

She followed her father through the nobles on the dance floor, weaving in and out. It wasn’t the first of the balls in Ostwick she’d been too but it was certainly the finest. Lady Trevelyan had put on a beautiful event, the hall decked out in some of Josephine’s favourite colours. The woman herself was suddenly in front of her in a fine dress of red and gold silk when her father stopped.

“Lady Trevelyan,” Yves Montilyet said, his arms stretched out, one reaching behind Josephine and urging her forward. She smiled at the older woman.

“May I present my daughter – Lady Josephine Cherette Montilyet.”

On cue Josephine curtseyed – a well practised move as her father watched on pleased with her perfect manners.

“A pleasure.”

“I am so glad you’ve been able to attend one of my balls dear Josephine,” Lady Trevelyan said, taking her hand. “Allow me to introduce you to my son Maxwell Trevelyan.”

She paused looking around her and dropped Josephine’s hand. She took a few steps to the right and grabbed the collar of a young dark haired man. He allowed her to drag him back over to Josephine and her father – something she considered a little undignified but this was the Free Marches – before letting go and straightening him out. Josephine grinned at the young man who looked no older than herself. Maybe nineteen. He gave her a cocky grin back his dark hair flopping over his forehead a little and he pushed it back.

“Maxwell Trevelyan,” she said. “My son just came of age.”

Older than he looked, Josephine realised, if he was already twenty-one. But then, people often assumed she was of age when she was only eighteen. Looks were deceptive but he looked like fun.

“Maxwell, this is Lord Montilyet and his daughter Lady Josephine Montilyet,” she continued.

The young man took her hand and gently kissed her knuckled.

“A pleasure to meet you Lady Montilyet,” he said giving her a quick wink before straightening up and turning to her father. “Wonderful to see you again Messere, the Lady Montilyet unable to join us this season?”

“I’m afraid not. Both Yvette and Frederic have the Orlisian pox.”

“Oh my, how awful,” Lady Trevelyan said, “you must send her my regards.”

“I will Lady Trevelyan.”

The two adults picked up another thread of conversation and Josephine noted Maxwell had already slipped away silently. She smiled and did the same, disappearing back into the crowd.

Later she spotted him again as she hid on the balcony, tired of the Ostwick nobility and their poor imitation of the great Orlesian game. She wasn’t always a fan of that either but this attempt to copy it, playing at the watered down version with people she barely knew with consequences she didn’t understand was frustrating. She needed a break.

Maxwell passed by the balcony and she grabbed his arm and pulled him through the thick heavy curtains. He gave a little yelp and tripped, falling into her arms. She laughed and straightened him up.

“Serah Trevelyan,” she said.

“Lady Montilyet,”

That cocky grin was infections, and she smiled back.

“Hiding Lady Montilyet?” he asked.

“Please, call me Josephine.”

“Max,” he said, “and please, answer the question.”

“I tire of the politics when I don’t know the players and the parties.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her, dark eyes connecting with her own and she smiled sweetly, feeling a little blush high on her cheeks.

“I could educate you. Give you information about all the major Ostwick players.”

“I think we can find something much more interesting to do Maxwell,” she said with a smile, taking his hand.

“Max,” he corrected, letting her pull him forward gently by his shirt front. He grinned back and she kissed him lightly, nipping his bottom lip making his groan.

“Come with me,” he said voice low and taking her hand.

He held on tight and pulled her through the ballroom, avoiding their parents and grabbing a bottle of wine form a table as he passed. Josephine laughed, chasing him out of the room and up some stairs.

They came to a room and Maxwell shut the door behind them. He went to open the wine when Josephine stopped him, grabbing him and kissing him solidly. She pushed him up against the door, making him groan and wrap his arms around her so he could spin them around to swap positions. She laughed again pushing his jacket off and to the floor.

“Have you done this before?” she asked, kissing beneath his ear, hands rucking his silk shirt from his pants.

“Brought a strange Antivan girl up to my room in the middle of a party?”

“I am not a strange Antivan girl!” Josephine cried haughtily.

“I apologise my lady,” he says, stepping back and bowing with a flourish.

She laughs and grabs at him to pull him back to her. She kisses him again, one hand in his dark messy hair to hold him to her, her other hand snaking around his waist. Embraced like that Max manoeuvred them over to his bed. He went to the ribbons at the back of her gown and Josephine grinned against his lips. Pulling back from the kissed she pushed him hard, forcing him to sit on the bed before she took a step back.

“The ribbons are for show,” she explained.

Maxwell didn’t answer, watching as she started undoing dome tiny buttons hidden at her side. She let the dark blue dress fall to the floor standing before him in only her small clothes. #he reached out to take her hand, pulling her between his legs.

“You are -” he took a breath. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Josephine blushed at his words.

“And just how many naked women have seen Serah?”

He chuckled.

“A few.”

“Hmmmm.”

He pulled her forward so that she straddled him and he kissed her again – a quick peck on her lips before dotting kisses down to her breasts. She moaned softly, holding his head to her and stroking her fingers through his dark hair.

“Maxwell,” she groaned, shifting her hips forward against the bulge in his trousers.

“Max,” he corrected around her nipple, biting down lightly on it for good measure. She squealed the sound broken on a laugh and he let her pull open his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders. She ran her hands up his arms and over his chest.

“You use a great-sword,” she said almost conversationally, shifting in his lap again back and forth a little making him moan.

“You can tell?” he asked.

“Sometimes a great-axe,” she added. She started up a slow rhythm in his lap, feeling the pressure on her centre even through his soft trousers and her small clothes. “Both arms are large, where as young men who use swords and shields are slightly disproportionate as they don’t think to work both arms just the sword arm.”

“Is that so?” he said with a grunt. She raked her nails down his chest before pressing her own to his and kissing him.

“Uh-huh.”

“Antivan’s use rapiers, learning to use both arms in case of disarmament. And daggers of course,” she said with a sigh, feeling his hands on her breasts again. She started working the laces of his trousers shifting back a little to give herself more room.

“How do you know so much?” he asked, watching her slip off his lap, pulling him up to strip him of his trousers and small clothes.

She shrugged looking down at him and smiled. He was sizeable and she delighted in it, taking his erection in her hand, squeezing gently. He groaned and took her hand from him, pulling her around the bed to lie on it fully, pressing his body against hers, erection pressing into her centre again and she moaned, arching her hips up into his.

“Maker,” he hissed.

She chuckled, breathy and shifting her hips again. He ran his hands down her body and into her small clothes fingers ghosting over her clit and into the slick heat of her centre.

“Oh, maker,” she muttered, pressing her hips up into his fingers. “More.”

He kissed her on the lips, sliding his fingertip up over her clit and back down again, grinning at her as she groaned again.

“Don’t tease ser-AH,” she managed to get out, the word catching as he slid a finger into her body. He pulled his hand clean away to her disappointment and started to remove her small clothes, dropping them to the floor when they were free of her legs and moving back on top of her. He urged her legs up and around her waist, pushing his erection into her but missing her wet entrance. She giggled as he tried again but still missed, his cheeks turning bright red. She reached down again and squeezed his hard erection in her hand, pressing him into her.

“Holy Void,” he muttered pushing his hips forward until he was fully inside her. “Josephine?” he asked hearing a hiss of pain.

“Hmmmm,” she said, biting her lip. “You were a little quick.”

He went to pull back, pull out with a snap of his hips but she tightened her legs around him holding him to her.

“No, it’s fine,” she said, wriggling her hips a little and making them both moan.

“You have done this before right?” he asked suddenly.

She smiled at him, one hand bringing his head back down to kiss him.

“More than you evidently,” she said, and he glared at her.

“Hey, I’m a good chantry boy,” he protested, trying not to laugh, the motion shaking his body. They both moaned at the slight movement.

“You can start moving now,” she said, a little breathless all of a sudden and he kissed her before thrusting into her, slowly and shallowly at first and she arched up against him, urging him deeper with each thrust.

“Ho- oh Josie.”

“Josephine,” she corrected with a grin, but he ignored her, whispering Josie again as he started a quick rhythm into her body, hands on her hips and dipping his head to press kisses to her neck. Josephine threw her head back as the pleasure built, her body tight around him as his erection pressed deep inside her with every thrust in.

“M-ore,” she sighed.

“More what?” Max asked, looking up her her flushed face. Her eyes were closed and her mouth open as she started to pant slightly.

“Everything,” she replied one on particularly hard breath and he chuckled, grabbing her hips. He used a great-sword, Josephine thought to herself, he has strength in those arms and she smiled at him.

“What?” he asked.

“Harder. I know you can go harder my lord,” she said, voice soft and low, arching her hips high and hard up to meet his.

“Fuck,” he grunted. “Your wish is my command my lady.”

He started to put more effort into his thrusts, gripping her left hip tightly and hooking his other arm beneath her and holding onto her shoulder. The move forced him deeper into her body and she cried out, arching up into him as he started a quick rhythm. She could come like this, she knew, especially as he really started to move, feeling every drag and pull of his erection in her slick entrance. Every push and shove. He started to grunt with the effort, his hair in his eyes again but he barely noticed, barely noticed anything except the tight heat of her body as he moved.

“C-close?” he asked suddenly.

She shook her head.

“Need -” she couldn’t quite get the words out and then he was coming inside her, hot seed spilling deep into her body, Maxwell calling out her name again and shaking above her. She frowned, grumbling to herself as she collapsed to her side, untangling herself, but unable to help the quiet moan as he slipped from her sensitised body.

“Sorry, my lady,” he muttered, bright red, “you.” He didn’t finish his sentence, instead kissing her on the cheek and sweeping a hand down her body. “Forgive me.”

He pressed a hand to her centre, now soaking with her arousal and his seed as it dripped from her body. She jerked her hips up into his touch and without wasting time circled around her swollen clit with the tip of his finger. He bent over to take a nipple into his mouth, laving it with his tongue before sucking. She cried out again, holding his head to her breast again, and reaching down to guide his movements with her other hand.

“Like that?” he asked. She nodded and he nipped her breast above her nipple, making her squeal and she would’ve blushed embarrassed by the noise but she was too close and he was relentless, the touch perfect now she was guiding him and but she needed a little more. Taking his hand she pushed two of his fingers into her body and started to move her body a little faster, fucking herself on his hand.

“Holy Maker Josie,” he grunted into her breast, watching her hips move back and forth.

“Josephine,” she breathed. He laughed. “Curl your fingers,” she told him. He frowned but did as she asked.

“Like that?” he asked, sitting up a little to concentrate on what he was doing with his hand.

“Yes, now,” she paused to take a breath. “Press.”

He frowned, but did as she asked, and almost jumped out of his skin when she wailed. She giggled, one hand still on his wrist, uncurling his thumb and guiding it back to her clit

“Again, rub,” she told him, and he did so, rubbing that spot roughly, his thumb pressing down on her clit, making her wail over and over until she was coming hard on his hand. “Maxwell,” she cried shaking beneath him.

“Fucking Void,” he said, leaning down to kiss her, hands still caressing her centre.

“Stop, stop,” she whimpered, tugging at his hand. He allowed her to pull his fingers from her body, the digits sticky with their fluids, she pulled it up to her mouth and licked them clean much to his surprise. His face was shocked.

“I don’t know what just happened,” he said.

She laughed, pulling him down to kiss him and share their mixed taste on her lips and tongue. He groaned, fitting his body along hers, relaxing.

“You’ve never brought a woman to orgasm before?” she asked.

“No, I have, I meant…the thing with my fingers and then the licking and…” he trailed off.

“Oh dear Maxwell, we are a good chantry boy aren’t we?”

“Apparently.”

“There are many secrets yet to learn about women,” she said, kissing him.

“Well, perhaps you can teach me a few more before the night is done.”

“Perhaps,” she smiled, “pour the wine first.”