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Cassandra had an issue with the Inquisitor.
It wasn't about her tactics, her race or her status. Cassandra could not deny that she had been hesitant in the beginning, surprised and perhaps a tad doubtful to believe that Andraste would have chosen an elf who did not believe in the Maker to be her Herald, that she would choose an Omega rather than an Alpha, but Elanna Lavellan was always perfectly diplomatic, perfectly collected, and treated those she fought with as though she had known them for years - and perhaps therein laid the problem.
She acted familiar with everyone. Too familiar, in Cassandra's opinion.
To put it simply, the Inquisitor liked to flirt excessively and with everyone who would hear it. At first Cassandra had thought it was a subconscious action, a swing in her hips and a look through half-lidded eyes because it was in her nature as an Omega to be tempting, but it was hard to ignore the calculating glint in her gaze when she ran a hand down Iron Bull's biceps or threw Cullen a smile that had him stammering like a man many years his junior.
Neither did Cassandra miss that the Inquisitor paid that same attention to her. The compliments, the talks, the teasing remarks when they were training or the way she inched just a bit too close during battle, the way she purred out a low 'thank you' when Cassandra kept her safe behind her shield.
It did not bother her, exactly.
The Inquisitor was an attractive woman by both elven and human standards, with her big green eyes, delicate facial features and slim body formed by years of handling a bow. She was an Omega and Cassandra, as an Alpha, was bound to seem like a natural target.
Her attention was flattering, in a way, even if Cassandra was unable to return that interest.
Cassandra had never been much of a people person. She had gotten used to being surrounded by warriors, by Alphas, and finding a small elf woman with the muted smell of Omega and blood hanging about her as she crawled out of the rubble had been rather too far out of her comfort zone. She’d thought getting an Omega to confess would be easy, perhaps a foolish thought brought on by equally as foolish Alpha pride, and it had thrown her to realize that the prisoner was not willing to submit - to realize over the course of months that Elanna was quite unlike any Omega she had ever encountered before.
She did not try to hide her status, nor did she glide into the submissive behaviours and patterns other Omegas slipped into so easily. Rather, she seemed intent on using her pheromones, her physical appeal, to her advantage, talking and flirting her way out of tough situations long after Cassandra would have been prepared to draw her blade and shed blood.
She seemed to enjoy it.
And perhaps that was what had brought on the situation that now gave Cassandra a queasy sensation in her stomach whenever she thought back on it.
The first time she had walked in on the Inquisitor and one of their comrades getting...familiar, it had most certainly been an accident. She had decided to walk the castle walls after a bout of training to breathe in the fresh air and relax her tense muscles, to think about their mission with a clear head, and hadn’t expected to come upon anyone but the occasional guard.
She certainly hadn’t expected to find the Inquisitor on her knees in front of Cullen, of all people, only barely hidden in the shadow of the tower.
Her first reaction had been disgust - disgust at how the Inquisition’s reputation, the one they had worked so hard for, would be tarnished if anyone were to see their leader like this, with her head bobbing back and forth and her throat working as she swallowed. Her delicate hands tightening around Cullen’s hips to pull him closer as she hummed in satisfaction.
Cassandra did not know how long she had stood there frozen to the spot, knowing she ought to call out and make herself known or leave them to it, but something about the sigh had thrown her.
The Inquisitor had given a muffled moan and suddenly Cassandra had become aware of her own pulsing erection pressing against the front of her pants and her white-knuckled grip upon the hilt of her sword. She hadn’t quite understood why she felt so uncomfortable upon realizing this, not until Lavellan’s eyes had opened to look directly at her.
If Cassandra had thought the Inquisitor might stop in embarrassment, scramble away or at the very least pull Cullen off to continue in a more private setting, she’d been wrong. The elf smirked around the cock in her mouth as she caught her gaze and winked, continuing even more fervently than she had before and Cassandra found the ache in her lower stomach growing hotter, more insistent, a growl pushing at the back of her throat as her instincts awoke.
The problem, she had found later, when she was hacking away at the training dummy to get rid of the throbbing between her legs, had been a very simple one - apart from the fact that seeing Cullen the next day had been a rather awkward affair, the cause of her worry was that her arousal had not been triggered by him.
Albeit not her type, Cullen was an attractive man in his own right, and if she had simply reacted to him she could have waved it off as a natural physical reaction. The Inquisitor was an Omega, of course, but she was also a female Omega. And Cassandra had never reacted much to pheromones in general, certainly not to those of the female persuasion.
Even then she might have been able to put it out of her mind and get used to the thought of a liaison between the Inquisitor and one of her advisors - if only it hadn’t kept happening.
Wherever she walked, whatever spot she chose to contemplate the task ahead in private, Elanna was there. And never alone.
Sometimes she’d find her in a dark corner of the stables with Blackwall, sweat clinging to the elegant arch of her throat as she rode the man with vigour, sometimes she’d catch sight of her servicing Cullen in his office, sometimes she’d stumble upon her on her knees and with her head buried underneath Josephine’s skirt, sometimes the Inquisitor would be pressed naked against the window of the tavern with Sera’s thigh between her legs, and sometimes the elf would be seated in the lap of one of Iron Bull’s men - Cremissius, Cassandra thought his name might have been - at a table in the Herald’s Rest and with quick fingers working inside her pants that no one else seemed to notice.
And every time, without fail, Lavellan would look past the person her attention should rest on to look Cassandra in the eyes. She’d smirk, as if she had expected it, as if she had planned it, and keep their gazes locked for as long as it took to make Cassandra flee in embarrassed anger.
The Inquisitor was trying to make a fool of her and Cassandra did not enjoy it.
“And here I thought exercise was supposed to make you less grumpy.” The voice behind her pulling her out of her thoughts was unwelcome and Cassandra huffed, raising her sword to prepare for another strike at the training dummy. She was sweaty and exhausted, her arms burned, but she was not yet ready to stop.
“What do you want, Varric?”
The dwarf chuckled as he made his way into her line of sight, careful to stay clear of the arc of her weapon. “Can’t I simply check up on a friend once in a while?”
“We are not friends,” Cassandra grunted as she brought the sword down onto the dummy’s head, hard, as if trying to split its head in two. “And you are not the type to simply ‘check up’ on me.”
“Ouch. Harsh, Seeker.”
She ignored the mock theatrical way he gripped at his chest and idly wondered how much longer it would take until the construction of wood and straw in front of her would splinter beneath her strikes.
“Your torture of training equipment might not possibly be related to our dear Inquisitor’s recent...antics, now would it?”
Cassandra stiffened. “What do you know?”
Varric’s laugh wasn’t mocking, but the sound made her grit her teeth all the same. “The exact same thing everyone else knows, I wager,” he said and leaned casually against the stone wall. “It’s not a secret that Lavellan has been rather free with her affections as of late.”
“What do you mean, ‘everyone’?”
He shook his head. “You are not the only one who pays attention, Seeker. Not to mention that she can be rather blunt about it all.”
“So she has propositioned you?” Cassandra asked, sword hanging uselessly at her side in a white-knuckled grip.
“Who hasn’t she propositioned?”
Varric’s constant habit of evading questions, of dancing around a subject for his own amusement, had never grated on her as much as it did at that moment and she made an angry noise in the back of her throat. “Did you take her up on her offer?”
“Ah, but a gentlemen never tells,” he said, raising both hands defensively. “Wouldn’t want to taint our lovely Inquisitor’s reputation.”
The acidic burn deep in her chest made Cassandra scoff and turn back to the task at hand, disregarding the exhaustion in her bones to continue releasing her tension on the frustratingly non-responsive training dummy.
“A bit late for that,” she grunted under her breath as the sharp edge of her sword tore a large chip of wood from her erstwhile opponent. She didn’t think Varric would hear her, but she should have known not to underestimate his talent at making her life more difficult than it had to be.
“Seeker, our Inquisitor is an elf. And an Omega. Don’t tell me her having sex with a couple of friends is where you draw the line.”
“We need the people of Thedas to trust in the Inquisition and the Inquisitor.”
The answer was substantially lacking, she was aware of that, and Varric’s stare was uncomfortably probing as he watched her. Surprisingly enough, he simply shrugged after a moment and turned to leave.
“Well, if you want to give her a lecture, now might not be the best time for it,” he casually threw over his shoulder, pointing at something to Cassandra’s left. “She seems a tad busy.”
Her head whipped around and she supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised to see Iron Bull’s massive frame hovering over the Inquisitor in the shadow of the tavern, just barely hidden in a corner as though it would do anything to mask the Qunari’s sheer size.
He turned her so Lavellan’s back was facing his front and Cassandra jerked, brain urging her to escape before she became witness to another haunting encounter.
It was useless.
Almost immediately, the Inquisitor’s gaze focused on her and she realized, at once, that the couple’s placement was not a coincidence. The elf knew that Cassandra would be exercising here, at this spot, as she had done nearly every day since they had found Skyhold.
Lavellan smirked as a large, grey hand came up to grip at her throat and another tugged at the laces of her pants. It stoked the flames of anger burning up Cassandra’s back.
She didn’t want to see her bend at the waist, didn’t want to hear her feminine grunt as Iron Bull casually forced his way inside her, even as her grip around the handle of her sword became painful and she knew her feet would not move no matter how much she willed them to.
It wouldn’t do. Sleeping with Betas, sleeping with Omegas, Lavellan had every right to do as she pleased - but Iron Bull was an Alpha. If the Inquisitor wasn’t careful, she would be with child before the month was over. Before they finished what they came here to do.
Before Cassandra could stop her, a voice whispered in the back of her mind, like the buzzing of insects fluttering through her head.
She tore her gaze away. The training dummy creaked dangerously as she whacked it again, trying to concentrate on the familiar feeling of sweat on her brow, the comforting scent of steel and wood and exhaustion.
It almost worked, too. Her focus almost caused her to forget what was going on, that the Omega pheromones in the air were strong enough to play around her nose, at least until quiet whimpers reached her ear. The fact that Cassandra could make out the words only meant the Inquisitor wanted her to hear them.
A high-pitched mewl. “You’re so big.”
The sound of skin slapping against skin. “Harder.”
A moan and satisfaction lacing through her voice as she choked out the demand that made the blood in Cassandra’s veins freeze and her vision turn red at the edges as the phantom sensation of being enclosed in tight, warm wetness shivered up her spine. “Come inside. Breed me.”
With a last desperate creak, the training dummy gave up its fight to stay upright, wood splintering as it broke through in the middle and crashed to the ground, the blade of Cassandra’s sword slipping from where it had been embedded.
She did not look back as she turned and hurried across the courtyard in large strides, anger and arousal warring for dominance in her gut. Something inside her had clicked and for some reason she was afraid to find out what.
“Bullshit,” Cassandra growled as she stalked up and down in the Spartan attic she had called her own for the last months. “That is all it is.”
Varric blinked at her from his position seated at the wooden table, for once utterly silent as he listened to her with his forehead crinkled in a perplexed frown. “Seeker, if-”
“It makes no sense, Varric.”
He gave a long-suffering sigh and shifted on his chair.
“Seeker,” he said with a shake of his head, his tone making Cassandra stop her nervous movements. “As flattered and confused as I am that you would choose me to confide in, I have no idea what you’re trying to say. What, exactly, has you so torn-up?”
Cassandra made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. “The Inquisitor.”
Understanding lit up the dwarf’s eyes and he leaned back, nodding as though this one word out of her mouth was enough to clear up the entire situation.
“You’re still bothered by her recent exploits,” he stated.
“It could destroy everything we have built.”
The amused smile twitching at the edge of his lips threatened to make her already taut nerves snap.
“This has nothing to do with the Inquisition, does it, Seeker?” Varric crossed his arms and fixed her with that same probing stare she had noticed too often in the past days. “Everyone knows how Lavellan likes to spend her free time, but you are the only one who can’t seem to deal with it.”
Cassandra’s jaw smarted as she pressed her teeth together, lifting her chin as Varric rubbed his jaw with a raise of one eyebrow.
“You’re jealous,” he chuckled and the flare of anger it evoked might have been far less dangerous if he had at the very least sounded surprised.
“I am not.”
Unlike her own stiff posture, Varric seemed utterly relaxed as he stood and stretched, carefully keeping the table between them. “My dear Seeker, I have written more than enough bad romance novels to recognize denial when I see it.”
The reminder of her weakness brought a flush to Cassandra’s cheeks, but she diligently fought down her embarrassment to glare at the dwarf. She ought to have remembered why he wasn’t a suitable conversation partner.
“I am not jealous,” she insisted, the sole of her boot nervously tapping against the wooden floor. “I am not attracted to women, Omega or otherwise.”
Varric shrugged and made his way towards the stairs. “It’s your call. I’m not going to tell you what you feel.”
“I don’t feel anything for her,” she hissed, hands itching. Varric was a Beta, simple and utterly non-threatening except for a tendency to lie as he pleased, but his fondness for mocking her had her instincts rearing up.
He stopped before descending the stairs and shook his head. There was no sign of mockery in his tone now - it was a simple advice, given between two people who had fought side by side too long to distrust each other completely.
“Perhaps you’re asking yourself the wrong questions, Seeker. Perhaps you shouldn’t be asking whether you’re attracted to women, but whether you’re attracted to her.”
Cassandra scoffed and turned her head to look out the window into the courtyard as she listened to the dwarf’s fading steps.
“Would you care for some sparring?”
Cassandra stiffened, a drop of sweat running down her back to soak into her tunic and her sword lowering to rest heavily against the ground beneath her feet. Daylight was fading fast, and even now the barely-there wisps of orange in the sky made it hard to see the training dummy, the one who had survived her last bout of exercise, in front of her.
Habits were hard to break, and coming to the courtyard to train when she had to think was one of them.
“Is it not a bit late for that?” she asked, rolling her shoulders to release some of the tension in her bones.
The Inquisitor chuckled. “I could ask you the same thing. Sleep comes far easier when you’re exhausted and sore, doesn’t it?”
Cassandra was used to the flirtatious tone Lavellan liked to employ with her, with all of them, and the double meaning behind the elf’s words should not throw her - neither should the subtle scent of Omega pheromones on the cooling breeze, yet it had gotten increasingly hard to put it aside as she would have liked to do.
She watched the Inquisitor saunter closer out of the corners of her eyes, slim hips swaying as though her body was preparing to go into heat, and swallowed hard to shake the words dancing around in the back of her mind.
Perhaps you should be asking whether you’re attracted to her.
“Very well,” she said with a short nod and sheathed her sword, untying it from around her waist to place it further away from them. “How do you wish to-”
She turned just in time to catch the wooden stick flying at her face, grunting as she jerked back a step to balance out the sudden movement. The Inquisitor regarded her with a teasing smirk as she twirled two smaller sticks in her hands like they were knives.
Despite her fondness for archery, Cassandra knew not to underestimate her.
“Come on,” Lavellan taunted with a jerk of her chin and a quirk of her eyebrow. “Prove that a little Omega like me cannot beat you.”
Cassandra’s expression darkened. She knew the elf was teasing her, playing on her instincts like they were a tightly-strung harp or one of her beloved bows, just like she had done the past couple of weeks with every ‘accidental’ bout of sex right in front of her and every time she had held her gaze with someone else inside her.
It was frustrating, not in the least because the Inquisitor was not at fault for the fact that it worked.
With a strained growl, she charged. She did not want to seriously hurt her, both because they needed the Inquisitor and because they had, despite everything, become friends, but she found herself tempted to swing her make-shift weapon with all her might anyway. If only to prove to herself that she could. That she wasn’t under the same thrall everyone else seemed to have succumbed to.
Before the wood could make contact, Lavellan had ducked and danced out from underneath the attack, gracefully whirling around to tap Cassandra on the shoulder. She grinned. “You are going to have to do better than that, Cassandra.”
Cassandra followed up with a huff and a strike to her legs immediately, only to find herself denied again when the nimble rogue jumped and kicked the stick away - laughing, like it was not even a challenge.
“You might want to try and hit me harder.”
Harder.
The snarl building at the back of her throat broke free as she threw away her weapon. The Inquisitor’s eyes widened in surprise and Cassandra used the momentary surprise to charge at her again, bodies colliding with a muffled smack and a gasp from between full lips.
They tumbled to the ground. Her hand closed around the elf’s throat on instinct, hips forcing themselves between the Inquisitor’s legs in an effort to stop her from squirming away.
Cassandra was far heavier than the young elf, muscle and size dwarfing hers easily - and yet, when they came to a stand-still in the shadows, the Inquisitor was smiling.
Smirking, tongue running over her teeth and eyes half-lidded in invitation.
“I suppose you win this one,” she purred as her chest vibrated in amusement and a restrained chuckle. “You see something needs to be done and you do it, after all.”
The Inquisitor was laughing at her, again, and Cassandra was tired of it. Tired of the mocking and the intentional teasing, tired of having the echoes of pleas directed at someone else haunting her nights, tired of feeling like an Omega was making a fool of her.
One of her hands found Lavellan’s wrists and pinned them to the ground above their heads.
Cassandra was panting, Omega pheromones accumulating in the small space between them and the lithe body underneath her seeming to writhe against hers, and she couldn’t stop the blood from rushing southward.
The Inquisitor noticed it, too. “Oh, might there be something else you feel needs to be done?”
“You,” Cassandra started and grimaced, her grip tightening. “You are the Inquisitor. Why have you been teasing me?”
“Have I?”
Cassandra scoffed. “Do not play dumb.”
Green eyes stared up at her as the elf made a contemplative noise in the back of her throat. Then she grinned. “You are far too easy to embarrass.”
The Inquisitor was not the kind of person Cassandra had ever seen herself with. She was a woman, she was an Omega, she was not the type to woo her like in one of those novels she had to admit she loved - she was not the type to want to woo her in the first place. She was the sort of person who had sex because she felt like it, because she enjoyed it regardless of emotional ties, and yet still she had a passion in her that made her stand up for her race, her beliefs, and that had made the two of them become friends despite the odds.
And suddenly the thought of being denied that passion, however it manifested, made a white-hot sort of anger surge through Cassandra’s veins. She had no right. Inquisitor or not, Omega or not, she had no right to embarrass her just because she could.
People called her hot-headed and stubborn, but Cassandra simply hated to be taken for an easy target. She hated to be taken as weak. As someone to push and tease.
“I,” she hissed, her fingers tightening around the Inquisitor’s throat and the ache in her loins grinding away at her resolve, “will not be made a fool.”
The beginning smirk on the elf’s face faltered, crumbled, as Cassandra rolled her hips instinctively, looking for something to assuage the burning in her spine and the throbbing between her legs. Pheromones spiked and her jaw clenched as Lavellan raised a mocking eyebrow.
“I always thought you more controlled, Seeker Pentaghast.”
Whatever new slight the elf might have continued with got lost in a startled gasp as Cassandra ducked her head and buried her teeth in the other woman’s throat. Hard.
Blood pounded underneath the abused skin and the sudden concentration of scent made it more than obvious that the noise had not entirely been one of pain.
“Cassandra-”
She drove her teeth in further, cutting off the perplexed question. The nagging thought that she was making a mistake had her tempted to grimace and pull away, to apologize for her indiscretion and simply ask the Inquisitor to keep her distance in the future, but Lavellan hadn’t been wrong.
She saw something needed to be done and she did it. Hesitating had never been her strong suit and it was far too late to change herself now that her erection was pressing insistently against the warmth between the elf’s thighs and the pheromones in the air told her she wouldn’t be stopped from taking what Lavellan had been teasing her with for too long.
The rocking of her hips started anew. She was loathe to call it ‘rutting’, like she was no more than an animal, but she could think of no other word to describe the way she ground her bulge against the Omega’s tensed body. Quick, short thrusts, entirely selfish in nature.
She could not bring herself to pay attention to whether Lavellan enjoyed it. All she wanted was...
Come inside.
Breed me.
When her fingers slipped between them to fumble with the laces of the other woman’s pants, the slim hands in her grip began to thrash and the Inquisitor’s usually oh-so casual words came out strained. “Not even going to ask, are y-”
Cassandra let go of her wrists to cover her mouth instead. The muffled protests made her shoulders tense and she knew she ought to ask for permission to keep going, to listen to what the woman underneath her had to say, but the delicate hands that suddenly appeared at her upper arms were pulling rather than pushing, an eager shimmer in green eyes making her wonder whether the vocal denial was simply another way of mocking her.
The laces came undone easily despite the twitch of her fingers and even before she slipped inside, she could tell that the Inquisitor was wet enough to stain her thighs. Cassandra hadn’t been with a lot of people in her life, never with a woman and never with an Omega, and she couldn’t tell if this was a normal reaction.
It didn’t seem to matter when Lavellan pushed back against her palm and the lips pressed against her skin curled into a smirk.
The almost smug look in the elf’s eyes caused Cassandra to growl and set her teeth against the woman’s neck again, if only to not have to look into her face and be reminded of her own foolish insistence that she was not tempted by her scent.
Almost on accident, her index finger brushed over the Inquisitor’s clit. The muffled moan near her ear sent a shiver through her, the slim legs wrapping around her hips pulling her closer until she had to jerk her positively soaked fingers away.
Whether the elf needed more preparation or not, Cassandra was not inclined to wait.
An impatient snarl rumbled through her chest as she attempted to loosen the fastenings of her breeches. The Inquisitor’s muffled noises might have been an offer of help, but Cassandra did not need her to talk. She could not have her talk.
It would seem too real - that she was pinning an Omega to the ground in the middle of the courtyard, only hidden due to the darkness of night, and was desperately attempting to work her cock free so she could fuck her.
The thought alone made her want to scoff and grimace.
She breathed a sigh of relief when the laces came undone and a quick tug allowed her length to spring from the constrictive leather and slap against her stomach. The soft breeze playing around her and cooling the swollen, feverish skin made one thing perfectly clear - she was hard, harder than she could remember being in a long time, and every beat of her heart sent a throb through the taut, straining flesh of her cock.
She was almost loathe to look down and see the veins running along her length pulsing with rushes of blood, or the drop of pre-cum beading at her slit as though she had done far more than simply pin and bite the woman underneath her.
Was this what sleeping with an Omega was like? Aggression and lust thundering through her with enough force to render her every rational thought useless, to render any logical objection she might have had irrelevant?
A warm hand suddenly slid around her cock and she drew in a sharp breath.
Lavellan’s gaze still shimmered with that eager amusement as she tightened her grip and drew her fingers and palm from base to tip, twisting her wrist and rubbing her thumb over the tip to spread the drops of pre.
Something in Cassandra’s stomach clenched and her hips jutted forward on instinct - her nature urging her to find something tight and warm and wet to mate. To knot.
The movement caused the Inquisitor’s eyebrows to shoot up and a noise almost like a chuckle to sound from her throat, slim fingers repeating the practised motion around the Alpha’s erection before sliding lower to cup her balls. Lavellan squeezed, just hard enough to heighten the pressure in her gut.
With an angry groan, Cassandra tore her palm away from the elf’s mouth and grabbed the offending wrist to pull it off her. She should not have.
“You do not need to hesitate,” Lavellan purred, that incessant smile setting Cassandra’s blood to boil. “I have taken far bigger than you.”
The sound of tearing fabric broke the stillness around them as the Inquisitor’s breeches ripped, the Alpha’s fingers clawed into the waistband. Cassandra snarled.
“Oh? Have I hurt your pride?”
Her beginning laugh cut off as Cassandra molded their bodies together and pressed the smaller woman hard into the ground, a hand around her cock guiding it to push mindlessly between Lavellan’s thighs. She wanted her to be quiet. She wanted this to be over. She wanted to no longer be distracted by unfulfilled arousal and tempting pheromones clogging her throat.
The legs around her waist quivered when she kept prodding, kept searching for the tight, wet heat that would give her relief, if only because it kept the Inquisitor from talking.
The first, the second, even the third thrust resulted in nothing but frustration. The elf was wet, soaking, and it caused Cassandra to slip past her intended target - like a clueless pup too caught-up in the throes of mating to reach its goal.
She took a deep breath, urging herself to stop and think for a moment. She moved her hips until she felt the head of her cock slot neatly against the Omega’s entrance and then-
Cassandra slipped inside in a single push.
Wet heat seemed to suck her in, close around the hard flesh of her length and pull until she was buried to the hilt. The sudden, startling sensation of tight walls rippling around her tore a groan from deep in her throat, almost enough to make her miss the answering gasp from the woman underneath her.
A haze descended over her mind, the flickering light of the lamps speckled around the courtyard and the far-off sound of the tavern fading in favour of her own rapid breaths and the slick noise of sex.
The moment she drew her hips back for the first time, she knew she wouldn’t last long - and that she didn’t care. Inquisitor Lavellan whimpered, perhaps in pain and perhaps in pleasure, as Cassandra pinned her harder and thrust her entire length back in. She couldn’t see the elf’s face, couldn’t read her body language, and somehow it didn’t matter. The tightness around her cock did, the sharp stab of pleasure lancing through her gut with every tiny movement, the satisfaction in her blood at claiming in Omega.
The pace she set was mindless.
She didn’t wait for the woman underneath her to get used to her girth and instead pushed her hips into a brutal rhythm, not bothering to pull out more than half-way before ramming inside to the hilt. Lavellan gasped into her ear at the apex of every thrust and her hands found Cassandra’s shoulder blades.
The dull ache of nails pressing into her barely registered over the clenching muscle around her cock. Time seemed to lose its meaning as Cassandra continued rutting, her blurry thoughts centering on a single thought that had been following her for far too long.
Come inside.
Breed me.
The Inquisitor’s legs tightened around her hips as the base of Cassandra’s cock began to swell, as her knot began to form in preparation of her impending climax, and the small elf twitched underneath her much larger frame.
“-an’t.”
Cassandra’s ears picked up the tail end of the sentence, but none of it made sense to her addled brain. She did not want to think. She did not want to puzzle out whether it had been a protest or an encouragement. She wanted to act.
The knot at the base of her spine was coiling, tightly, and the heat in her limbs, the throbbing between her legs, threatened to make it burst. Her hips moved faster, harder, in search of that last push she needed.
Her own grunts started to tune out the elf’s whimpers. Sweat dripped from her forehead as the size of her emerging knot prevented her from going as deep as she wanted to, as she pushed harder against the soft folds to try and get closer.
The warm wetness clenched tight around her and she gritted her teeth in frustration when she found that the other woman was still too tight, still too narrow, to accept her knot.
“-ou can’t.”
The Inquisitor’s words were urgent now, begging her to listen, and a distant understanding in the back of Cassandra’s mind made her hiss and lift her head to look into the woman’s face.
There was none of her usual haughtiness left. Her lips were parted, cheeks flushed and eyes half-lidded, and suddenly Cassandra understood why Cullen, why Blackwall, why all of them came back to her. It was a side of her she couldn’t remember seeing before - one that had her Alpha blood pumping harder and her arms itch to protect. One that had her knot swell bigger than she could remember it ever being before, even without popping to full size.
“What?” she growled, emphasizing her question with a hard cant of her hips. “You wanted this, did you not?”
Inquisitor Lavellan moaned and attempted to meet the motion, eyes rolling into the back of her head for the shortest of moments. “You can’t-”
“What do you mean, I can’t?”
“You can’t come inside. You can’t knot.”
A surge of anger took Cassandra by surprise. The Omega had had no trouble being the play toy of anyone who asked, yet she would insist on stipulations with her. A bead of sweat dripped from her nose to splash against Lavellan’s cheek as she brought their faces close.
“Why?” she snarled, speeding up her harsh thrusts until the body underneath her quivered.
“I’m not-” The stammered explanation was interspersed with strained whimpers. “I’m not on birth control.”
Cassandra’s breathing ceased. Consequences. There would be consequences, problems and issues that would make their lives difficult, that could threaten their mission, and she could not in good faith let it happen. Not now.
Her features pulled into a grimace, eyes shut tightly, before her willpower snapped. Her fingers fisted tightly into the blades of grass on each side of the elf’s head and she drove her hips forward with a groan.
Not even the Inquisitor’s squirming could stop her from forcing her knot inside in short bursts of strength. The slide was far from smooth, tightening muscles making the task even more difficult, but she couldn’t stop herself.
The constant whine brewing in Lavellan’s throat, the pain of her nails digging into Cassandra’s back harder with every inch of her knot, it all triggered her instinct to fight, to conquer and claim.
“Cassandra-”
With a wet, obscene noise, Cassandra’s knot popped inside. The rippling muscles seized down on it immediately, closing snugly around it as though Lavellan was a glove specifically tailored to no one but her, and the Alpha surged forward with a snarl of pleasure.
It was too much.
The Inquisitor had gone silent, her breaths rapid and broken, lungs seeming to clench in time with her lower body. Cassandra wanted to hold it off, to keep the rhythm of her hips even and perhaps give herself time to do the smart thing and pull away, but it was useless.
The ball of arousal in her gut uncoiled with a snap. The Inquisitor’s legs around her hips squeezed tight enough to make breathing difficult as she pumped into her once, twice, three times before throwing her head back with a raspy groan.
“Cass-”
Her cock swelled, her knot throbbed and with her length buried inside to the hilt, as deep as possible, Cassandra came. Release flowed through her in bursts, balls drawing up as she shot thick ropes of cum into trembling woman underneath her, the tight grip around her knot seeming to milk her dry.
She didn’t know if Lavellan reached her climax or if the noises in her throat were simply a matter of nature and instinct, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to care. Not when she was claiming her the way she should have done in the first place, before the Omega had had a chance to mock her.
The Inquisitor stretched her neck in invitation, the arch of her neck as tempting as it was dangerous. No matter how much she wanted to, a bite to that unmarked skin would mean something she wasn’t ready to consider. Might never be ready for.
Cassandra squeezed her eyes shut to avoid looking at her.
She didn’t know how long her orgasm lasted, how long she kept pumping cum into her or how long her knot kept pulsing afterwards, but when her toes finally uncurled and the haze on her brain lifted, all the energy had been sapped from her limbs.
A part of her wanted to get up and leave, to retreat and pretend this had never happened - as she had done with many of her unwanted thoughts - but her knot prevented her from moving anywhere and she was not certain her legs would hold her.
“Satisfied?” The Inquisitor’s voice had regained some of its haughty confidence, but above all, she sounded tired and exhausted. Not at all like the leader of an organization meant to save the world from certain destruction. “Or do you wish to go again?”
Cassandra hissed as Lavellan shifted, the jiggling of her knot leaving her raw.
Her arms trembled and with a defeated sigh, she allowed herself to sink down fully on top of the small elf. Despite her thin body, lying pressed against her was not uncomfortable, was not painful even with protruding bones digging into her skin.
“I apologize,” she mumbled after long minutes of silence, glad her burning face was hidden by the shadows of night. “I should not have forced myself upon you.”
“Do you regret it?”
Cassandra stiffened. “I...do not know.”
Inquisitor Lavellan - Elanna - hummed in the back of her throat. She wrapped her arms tighter around her and Cassandra found her stiff muscles loosening.
“You have time to figure it out.” Slim fingers traced mindless patterns over her back. “You need not rush.”
The doubts scratching at Cassandra’s spine reared their ugly head and she growled. “I do not share.”
Elanna’s laugh was a startling reaction. “My dear Seeker Pentaghast,” the elf chuckled, turning her head to brush her lips over the angry scar on the Alpha’s cheek. “An Omega needs just one Alpha to be satisfied.”
Cassandra huffed at her tone and buried her face into the smaller woman’s neck, releasing a heavy breath. She would be lying if she said she was sure of anything, that the Inquisitor’s gender and status no longer bothered her - but for once, acting immediately would not bring the solution.
She had time, and eventually things would slot into place.