It has been a long day for the group and after dinner, Zevran and Azalea Cousland retire to their tent.
She loves playing with his hair. It's long and silky in comparison with her short and spiky locks. She hums as she goes along, a song Leliana taught her at the beginning of their journey. She loves stroking his hair and tightening the braids after a long trek to their next destination. She loves listening to his sighs as she runs her fingers over his scalp, nails scratching lightly as she goes.
She loves watching him stretch with his head in her lap, his muscles bunching and stretching as he finds a more comfortable position on their bedrolls. Her fingers brush over the length of his ears, caressing the tips and earning a pleased hum in response. She loves the way that he turns his head into her palm when she strokes his cheek, lightly kissing the skin that he finds there. She loves watching his eyelashes flutter as he relaxes even more to her touch.
She loves his sun-kissed skin and the way he lays before her, bed shirt riding up, giving a peek at his toned stomach. She loves the lines of his body, the symmetry he possesses and lithe figure he holds. She loves the tattoos on his face even though she doesn't know the full story of how and why he got them. She loves that he can let down his walls around her, opening himself up in a way more intimate than even most sex can bring. And it is when her hands still at that thought, that she has this amazing and capable man lying before her, does she lower her head down to press her lips to his forehead.
Zevran's eyes flicker open, golden and bright, and she loses herself in them. His lips quirk up and a smile of her own graces her face. He reaches up and guides her face so he can kiss her the way he wants to, softly and unhurried. Her heart beats feverently in her chest and mirrors the pace of his own.
For two unlikely companions, they have fallen undoubtedly and hopelessly in love.