Sweet Satisfaction
Morrigan had watched it all, perched on a tree at some distance from Flemeth's hut, the sharp eyesight of her current hawk form keen enough to make out all the details. Percival Cousland, her lover, the Warden Commander, strutting up to the little dwelling, accompanied by a party of three: his fellow warden Alistair, the dwarf Oghren and the Antivan assassin, Zevran Arainai. Together they should easily have been able to kill Flemeth, as he had promised her. Kill the old witch, get her grimoire and free Morrigan from the threat of becoming her next vessel, just like all her "sisters" before her.
Only they hadn't fought her at all. Morrigan had watched in impotent fury as Flemeth talked Percival into a deal, a sly smile on her wrinkled face. And then they walked away with the grimoire, leaving the old woman unharmed, cackling at his stupidity. The hawk's feathers were bristling with indignation. What was going on here?
Quickly she flew after them, following them until they made camp for the night, changing into a wolf just out of sight from their fire. With infinite care she slunk closer, grateful they had left the mabari behind. The wolf wasn't her favourite form; too much danger from dogs and hunters and not enough speed, but its keen hearing was just what she needed now.
Alistair was talking when she approached, sounding worried. "So you have the grimoire and the old hag promised to leave us alone. But what if Morrigan finds out? I thought the two of you-"
Percival lay back on his bedroll with a laugh. "Oh come on, Alistair. Just because I'm bedding the witch doesn't mean I do her bidding. I value my freedom more than that. Besides, she isn't all that spectacular. Skinny and cold. Any tavern wench would be more fun."
Involuntarily her lips recoiled, baring sharp teeth, and she fought back a growl. Sometimes the animal instincts were hard to control, but she needed to know more. Oghren was guffawing loudly, while Alistair's low chuckle didn't quite succeed in hiding his embarrassment.
But then, to her surprise, Zevran's voice chimed in. "Ah, my Warden, I find that hard to believe. Surely a woman as fiery as our dear Morrigan must be passionate enough to satisfy any man."
Percival sat up, his face hardening. "No one asked for your opinion, Zevran. After all, we know you don't have any standards. Men, women, priests, whores, it's all the same to you. You Crows are little more than fornicating rakes, too cowardly to attack a man openly. If you were as eager to fight as you are to fuck, you might actually be good for something."
Zevran's lips thinned for a moment, but he didn't answer. Morrigan had heard enough. She found a safe place to change again and quickly flew back to her tent.
When Percival brought her the grimoire, complete with a dramatic tale of fighting Flemeth to the death, Morrigan's face was stony. Before he could add any more embellishments, she cut him off, her voice like ice.
"Spare me the lies. I know she's alive." Her hand closed firmly around the book's spine. "I thank you for this gift. But I won't tolerate dishonesty. Please take note you are no longer welcome in my tent."
Percival stared at her, his eyes narrowing, but then he threw his head back and laughed. "Oh come on, Morrigan. You were willing enough earlier. I bet you'll come crawling back to me soon enough if your bed gets cold. Unless I've found something better by then. Which shouldn't be too hard."
Morrigan stared after him as he walked back to the others. For a moment, she was too stunned to speak, then she felt a white-hot rage build up in her stomach. Impertinent, arrogant noble bastard! Who do you think you're messing with? The temptation to hurl a curse after him was almost overwhelming and she instinctively reached out for her staff.
Just then some branches rustled, and Zevran emerged from the shadows surrounding her campfire. "My apologies. I shouldn't have listened. It wasn't my intention to intrude on a private moment."
Morrigan froze. "'Tis of no importance. I couldn't care less for his opinion."
The assassin was as glib and eloquent as ever. "Of course. You know, I never thought you were in love with him. But I'll admit I've wondered occasionally what really lies behind your interest in him. You and I are not so dissimilar after all. I admire you, Morrigan. You are a wicked, wicked woman. "
"And you are a fool who spends far too much time on his hair."
Zevran laughed merrily, unperturbed. "You may be right about that. However... if you should feel the need to... let us say, get satisfaction, I might have a proposal for you."
Morrigan snorted contemptuously. "You? Why would you help me? What's in it for you?"
Zevran grinned like a cat. "We all have our reasons for doing what we do. I may harbour a grudge or two against our leader as well. Besides, what I have in mind would hardly be a sacrifice for me, lovely woman."
"Let's hear your proposal, then." She didn't trust the assassin, never had, but at this point she would willingly have made a pact with a demon to get back at Percival.
"Well, he says you are cold and bore him, no? He doesn't think other men are interested in you. It should be easy enough to prove him wrong. Let me come to your tent at night, my dear. I bet he won't like competition." There was no hint of humour in Zevran's smile, just an icy-cold calculation which made even her shiver. "And I promise to tell everyone how hot and exciting you were, leaving only one possible conclusion. Obviously our dear Percival lacks either the technique or the stamina to make you scream with lust."
It was a good plan, she had to admit, and it would hurt Percival's pride just as much as he had hurt hers. There was only one flaw. "Satisfying as this sounds, I hope you aren't actually proposing we do anything in my tent except have a cup of tea?"
Zevran shrugged. "A lie is always much more convincing if it contains a morsel of truth. And I would be more than happy to... flesh out our story, so to speak. You really have the most marvellous eyes, you know. "
"Ah, there we go again." Morrigan sighed. "Tell me, does this work on other women?"
Zevran didn't seem to mind her rejection. When she sent him away, he withdrew with a friendly smile, and in the weeks to come treated her exactly as before, showering her with compliments about her looks, while making it very clear at the same time he would never underestimate her powers. She never knew whether she should be flattered or annoyed by his attentions.
She and Percival kept up an uneasy truce, being just barely polite to each other. But then they ran into a wandering dwarven merchant on the road along Lake Calenhad. Percival had almost finished bartering for potions and diverse small trinkets, when the dwarf's eye fell on his ring. It was a fine loop of rosewood, its magic properties betrayed by a subtle shifting of its patterns. And it had been a present from her, given shortly after their first night together.
"What about this ring, messere?" The dwarf's eyes gleamed with interest. "I could offer you a good price for it."
Percival glanced down at his hand, a cruel little smile twisting his mouth. "Why not? It's not as if it's very useful to me. How much were you saying?"
Morrigan watched as the ring changed hands, her face unreadable. But when they walked on, she turned to look for Zevran, and sure enough, he was close, waiting for her to approach him.
"Does your proposal still stand?" Her golden eyes were flashing lightning at Percival's turned back, and Zevran didn't bother to hide his satisfied grin.
"Of course, my dear. Let us discuss the details, shall we?"
They had to wait for a few days until it was Percival's turn to take first watch again, but then it was easy enough. Zevran wandered nonchalantly over to her campfire when all the others had gone to bed, making sure to step on a few twigs so Percival was bound to notice and follow him. A long drawn-out, deep kiss by the fire, some moaning and groping for show, and then they slipped into her tent. She raised a questioning eyebrow at the assassin who gave a brief nod. Percival was there. Smiling quietly, Zevran lit the lantern, carefully placing it in such a way that their silhouettes could be seen from outside.
Remembering his kiss, the feel of his hot, hard body against her only moments before, Morrigan shivered as she watched him move around her tent, taking off his armour and shirt. She couldn't help but admire his firm, bare chest, couldn't help but follow the lines of those intriguing tattoos with her eyes. He didn't seem to mind her scrutiny, almost basked in her looks.
Having stripped down to his smalls, Zevran stepped behind her and unclasped her top, placing a lingering kiss on the nape of her neck. He let the flimsy garment sink to the floor, at the same time cupping her small, high breasts in one smooth motion. "So beautiful," he breathed into her ear.
Morrigan raised an eyebrow. "No need to lie to me, assassin. I am aware that my curves are less than exciting."
She heard his angry snort, and then he was swivelling her around so she was facing him. "What did he say? The ignorant Fereldan dog?"
She shrugged. "'Tis of no importance. I know very well men prefer larger breasts. He's hardly the first to tell me so."
Zevran sighed. "Female beauty comes in many shapes and sizes, my dear. It is one of the things I most appreciate about it. And you are undoubtedly one of the most beautiful and exotic women I've ever had the pleasure to have in my arms. You should be admired by painters, copied by sculptors, exalted by poets!"
"This pointless flattery won't be necessary-" she began, but he cut her off with a heated kiss that left her breathless.
His lips trailing down her neck, he whispered in her ear. "It is flattery only if I exaggerate the truth to please you. I am but stating a simple fact."
She shuddered at his touch, and he smiled, sinking down on his knees before her until his face was level with her breasts. He took a moment to adjust their position, making sure they could be seen well from outside, before he gently took her nipple between his lips and flicked his tongue against the sensitive skin. Morrigan cried out in surprised delight, her body arching involuntarily into his arms, her head sinking back. Zevran hummed happily and repeated the action on the other side while his hands were carefully stroking down along her ribs until they settled on her narrow hips.
His lips continued playing with her breasts while his hands made short work of the fastenings of her leather skirt. Soon it joined the rest of their clothes on the floor. With a satisfied sigh, he slid down further, taking her with him until she straddled him, her naked thighs firm and warm against his. Nothing but the thin linen of their smallclothes separated them, and she felt his arousal pressing against her. His low moan told her he felt her heat as well.
"Morrigan." She expected him to push her down onto the bedroll any moment now, to tear off the remaining barriers and take what he wanted, but instead he pulled her closer.
He held her in his lap, their bodies touching all the way from their necks down to their entwined legs. His skin was silky smooth under her hands, and he smelled nice, clean and a little spicy. And then he began to move, slowly at first, then with increasing insistence, grinding himself against her in a careful rocking motion. He was sliding all along her heated core, so good, so sweet, and her pleasure built up faster than she could have imagined it.
Morrigan was far from being a virgin, but she had never met any man who didn't go straight for the act. She'd always thought it was all they cared for, get inside her, rut, be done with it. Percival had done little to change her perceptions of men, even though he'd been civil enough and careful not to hurt her.
But Zevran... they hadn't even finished undressing and here she was, rapidly approaching her peak, his lips and teeth grazing the white skin of her neck and shoulders. His fingers were reaching down between them, finding the perfect spot and adding just a little more pressure, and she was screaming hoarsely in his arms. No need to fake anything, no need to pretend, when every fibre of her body was alive with pure, tingling pleasure.
Zevran held her until her breathing had calmed down, then he slowly turned her in his arms, making her kneel on the floor in front of him. Only then did he get rid of her soaked smalls, breathing in her scent with an honest relish that made her gasp. His fingers probed briefly between her legs, but he quickly withdrew them and replaced them with his heavy, throbbing cock. His hands took hold of her hips, firm and sure, but he still held back.
"Ready?" His unexpected soft whisper nearly made her come undone, and all she managed was a nod, her face buried in her crossed arms. With a deep sigh of relief, he sank inside her, burying himself as far as he could go. And he felt good inside her, so much so that she pushed herself back against him impatiently, begging wordlessly for him to move.
Zevran was only too happy to oblige her, setting a steady rhythm that had them both pant within minutes. He was talking again, whispering jumbled phrases in Antivan, his voice hoarse and passionate. Morrigan was surprised how much this excited her, even though she didn't understand a word of it. Well, maybe because she didn't understand a word of it.
His movements were becoming more erratic now and suddenly his hand was in her hair, undoing the knot with a single twist, wrapping the strands around his fingers and pulling her head back hard. The sudden roughness on top of the considerate gentle love-making was all she needed to climax a second time, another scream torn from her lips as he was thrusting hard inside her, once, twice, before he collapsed over her with a final groan.
It took them a while to disentangle and by the time she was covered up again and watched Zevran get dressed by the light of the oil lamp, she realized she had completely forgotten about Percival. He must have seen practically everything from outside the tent, and she had been noisy enough there would be no doubt among the others that she was indeed capable of passion, given the right partner.
For a moment she was tempted to ask Zevran to stay and hold her for a while, and maybe later... But then she shook herself, chasing away the sentimental notion. He had been a tool for her to get her revenge, nothing more. Now she had other things to focus on. As the assassin slid out of her tent, she lay back with a satisfied smile. She could bide her time. Percival would yet come to be grateful for her help.
So... this is all zevgirl's fault, and KaariJGib's - for challenging me on tumblr to write a smutty Zevran/Morrigan story. Which turned out to be a lot of fun. And of course zevgirl beta read for me, as usual. Thank you, my dear. You're the best!
Many thanks to the wonderful queendread/jinxiedoodle who graciously allowed me to use her gorgeous Morrigan painting as a cover pic.