There was a pause. Was Jerry going to stick himself in her? She could feel herself moistening in anticipation not like the morning. No, she mustn’t ...hink of that, mustn’t spoil Jerry’s evening and Monday was a long time away. But what had happened, what…. She jumped—what was Jerry doing? It tickled, he was tickling her bottom, no, her bottom hole, her arse, with a feather—and it tickled. She tried to rise but in her position, his hand on her shoulders and standing between her thighs there was. Fergus had seen better days; he had a thick, unkempt beard, and his hair was longer than Cailan’s; he had a scar running from one ear, across his cheek to his mouth, making his lip pucker strangely. He was filthy and wearing what must have been scavenged armour, but he was unmistakable despite that. He looked a great deal older than he had in game, and I wondered what he had been through since Ostagar.As Wynne worked, the gash in his shoulder stopped bleeding, then slowly closed; she rose. More

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