Summary: A lazy morning that shouldn't be all that lazy.

a/n: Written to fill a prompt from stargeant. Thank you very much. Sorry it is on the short side.

Sunrise

The chilly mountain winds sneaked through the flap of the tent, tickling bare flesh and raising goosebumps. Cyna grumbled into the pillow and pulled the blanket over her shoulder, baring Zevran's pert rear to the cold. The assassin cuddled closer, pulling back a bit of the thick furry cover. The warden growled. Her hand had fisted tightly in the fabric, which brought Zevran that much closer. He tugged gently at her waist and covered part of her back with his own body.

"Zev," she mumbled beneath him.

He didn't want to be awake, so kept his eyes closed, despite the hint of sunlight bleeding through the canvas of the tent. Burying his face between her shoulder blades, Zevran attempted to hide from the encroaching day.

Cyna hummed and shifted beneath and beside him. He didn't know quite what state of waking she was in, but he was stoic in his belief that it was far too early to wake. Soft caresses. Twittering birds. The whistle of the wind. Each sound eventually registered in the sleepy fog of his mind. Then her soft laughter accompanied a tug at the arm looped around her middle.

"Zev, I need to get up."

"No, you don't," he muttered against her back. He pressed a kiss there for good measure.

"The sun's up."

"So?"

Cyna laughed and wiggled. Zevran, true to his role as sleeping lover, kept his eyes closed against the sun and its threat to end a moment he wanted to extend. "We've got to pull up camp if we want to make it to Orzammar."

"Hang Orzammar," he mumbled, nuzzling into the dark, shadowy curve of her neck.

She chuckled when his lips teased at her skin. "Zevran Arainai." Cyna had a knack for speaking his name in that same way a mother might. It was almost lecturing, though still quite loving.

"Yes, my dearest." He grazed the length of her neck with the tip of his nose. When a gentle moan escaped her lips, he pressed a kiss against the thin skin there.

"We really should leave as early as possible."

"It is very cold out there." Another kiss landed a few inches below the first.

"It's winter. And we're in the mountains," she argued, her fingers burying in his hair as his mouth continued its track toward her collarbone.

"Indeed. You shouldn't leave without proper warming."

Finally, his eyes opened, but only once his lips hovered above her exposed nipple. Just the waft of his breath brought it to a taut peak with the crisp breeze swirling around them. He stared at her, poised to take it into his mouth.

"Zev," she said. It was part plea, but held a note of scolding, like she still couldn't decide if she wanted him to set her skin alight or cooperate with her responsible nature.

"I'd like it if you stayed," he said.

That's all it took. A simple request. When she nodded her head, Zevran latched his lips around her nipple and sucked at it fervently. Her back arched in his arms, fingers tightening in his golden hair of spun sunlight. The low moan she let out surely would inform any awake companions that they would be setting out later than planned.

Zevran turned all his attention upon Cyna. Kisses trailed over her skin. Their hands clasped at some point, and he waylaid their march to Orzammar with the woman who had stolen his heart somewhere along a muddy road in Ferelden