Clumsy she could handle, as long as there was enthusiasm behind it. He truly had changed over the years, grown up enough now that this long game she had played with him bore worthwhile fruit. It was rare she stayed in any one place long enough for a such a thing to come out so well. That ran the risk of turning depressing if she let it.

She wasn't about to indulge that when she had such a tempting distraction pinning her against the wall. He was heavy, and she was sure all of that wasn't just plate mail. She felt the chill of the metal through her rough tunic and part of the griffon design biting into exposed cleavage. Rather than trying to escape it, she sank into the discomfort and relished it as a sign of enjoyable things to come.

Her mouth was hungrier now, a wave of growing arousal she rode and controlled. She could taste the ale on his tongue, Fereldans and their love of piss water, not that she had much room to talk. She wrapped both arms around his thick neck and hopped up to wrap her legs around his waist. Armor pinched her inner thighs above her boot cuffs. She ignored it and tightened her squeeze to cross her ankles over his lower back.

"Carver." She murmured directly against his mouth, the words muffled and distorted. "You're like a stale sausage. How do we get you out of this casing?" She gave it a hard thump against his back.