Title: No Talking, Just Touching
Summary: Explicit scenes from the story The One that Stayed.
Principal characters: m!Cousland, Zevran
Genre: smut
Chapter: 3
Word count: 761
Suddenly, Zevran took off running through the rain across the courtyard to the castle. For a moment, the Warden watched the Antivan's lithe figured dart around puddles, but a hunger stirred in him that urged him to give chase, despite his heavy armor. Zevran stood by the servant's door, blond hair plastered to his neck from the rain, grinning. He slipped inside just before Ruairidh caught up, and he flew up the stairs, leaving a trail of water.
The merry chase went on for several minutes as Zevran weaved through the castle, finally coming to rest at Ruairidh's bed chamber. The door was ajar when the Warden approached, and when he pushed it all the way open, Zevran stood before him completely naked. They stood silently, staring at each other, water dripping off both of them. Ruairidh cursed his armor again as the assassin laughed and sprawled himself lavishly across the bed.
With much fumbling and muttering, the decorative plate dropped to the floor piece by piece until the young man stood before the elf in a soaked wool tunic and breeches. He was breathing heavily, winded by running up the stairs in a hundred pounds of metal. It didn't help that Zevran was approaching with swaggering steps, eyes bright.
Wordlessly, the elf knelt before him and unlaced his breeches. Ruairidh was already marvelously hard, and Zevran felt his own thirst jump as he eyed the man's massive length. He was big everywhere, something the assassin always enjoyed. With a careful flick of his tongue, Zevran began to service the Warden, suckling gently at the tip and then swallowing his length in luxurious gulps.
Ruairidh began to buck into the elf's mouth as he felt his sack grabbed and fondled, and too soon he climaxed into Zevran's mouth. The assassin rose and kissed him deeply, the sour taste of his seed swirling between their tongues. The kiss broke and they both breathed deeply.
"I want to feel you inside of me," the elf whispered in Ruairidh's ear, and it didn't take long for the Warden to find his stride again.
Completely naked now, he backed Zevran up to the bed and began rutting against his thighs, allowing their lengths to rub. Zevran hissed and began thrusting to intensify the contact. The slap of flesh echoed in the big chamber, and it only made the pace more furious. When Ruairidh could no longer stand it, he grabbed Zevran and roughly flipped him, yanking his hips into position. The elf didn't protest the rough treatment, only hissed as the Warden suddenly shoved into him. The pain wracked his entire body, but on Ruairidh's second thrust, he hit the right spot, and Zevran almost melted from the pain and pleasure. They soon were thrusting in a frenzy, Zevran groaning from all the sensations. Ruairidh suddenly jerked and clawed at the elf's back as he filled him with seed for a second time. He hovered over the elf's trembling body for a moment, trying to concentrate.
His hand snaked around the assassin's waist and grasped his member. He began to pump it in long, firm strokes. It only took a few pumps to finish the elf, who collapsed bonelessly to the bed. Warm seed coated Zevran's belly, but his body and head were pounding in the afterglow of release; he could not be bothered to move. Ruairidh knelt behind the elf and lapped up the cum that leaked from the elf's hole. His ministrations became concerned with the assassin's thighs, and he licked the smooth flesh while intermittently blowing hot air on the skin. The elf shivered with pleasure. He rolled over and dropped to the floor to face Ruairidh. The warrior sat cross-legged and pulled the elf to straddle his lap. They kissed deeply, the taste of seed still strong.
After they broke the kiss, they remained there like that until Zevran began to drift to sleep. The position was too awkward to give Ruairidh any comfort, but he was pleased to see the elf relax. He knew Zevran loved him, and he knew that it was a difficult thing to love a temperamental man. Zevran deserved to be thoroughly loved, and held. It was strange that the Crow assassin ended up being the most loyal companion of all.
Ruairidh rested the semi-conscious elf on the bed, tucking the warm covers around him, before getting in the bed on the other side. The warmth sent tingles up and down his spine; perhaps there would be no dreams tonight. Perhaps there would only be Zevran.