This is a response to this prompt: "Alistair just "hopped the border" with some help and heavy seducing. How - it's anon's choice, but mb drinking was involved. Give me the morning - day - night after from Alistair's pov!"
Dont own Dragon Age, this is just for fun, blah, blah, blah.
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The first thing Alistair noticed upon waking was the blinding headache—it felt as if someone was banging a hammer on the inside of his skull.
The second thing he noticed was that he was completely naked.
And the third thing he noticed was that there was an equally naked body pressed up against his back.
Oh-kay. Alistair was faced away from this mystery person and he wasn't sure he wanted to find out who was sharing his tent, at least not until he could figure out how exactly he had wound up in this state. He remembered last night, at least the beginning of it. Oghren had just made up a batch of his "special brew" and was feeling generous enough to share it with the rest of the party. After much teasing about being a naïve Chantry boy Alistair decided to join in. Just one drink couldn't cause too much harm.
And then the drinking game had started. He had no idea what the rules were, and suspected that Zevran and Oghren kept changing them just so he'd lose. And apparently "losing" meant he had to drink mug after mug of something that could probably strip paint.
About an hour into the game, Natia declared she was bored and suggested they play "Spin the Bottle" instead. He was pretty sure that's when things started going downhill. Somehow, no matter who spun the bottle it almost always landed on Alistair. Obviously, there was some kind of conspiracy going on.
It hadn't actually been that bad. Sten had wandered off some time earlier, and Oghren was out cold, snuggled up with the Mabari. That just left Leliana, Zevran, Natia and Alistair. And Morrigan, surprisingly enough. Alistair knew the only reason she hadn't bunked off to her private campsite was because of Natia—they'd started sharing a tent right after Natia gave her Flemeth's Grimoire. Not that Alistair minded that much; Natia had made it clear early on that she saw him as more of a big brother than a love interest, and that was fine with him.
Zevran was definitely cheating, Alistair was sure of that. On his very first spin, the bottle ended up pointing exactly between Natia and Leliana. He insisted that meant he got to kiss both of them, and the two women readily agreed. Morrigan's turn next and it landed on Alistair. Thankfully she refused to kiss him, and stalked off to her tent declaring that she no longer wished to play such "foolish games".
Natia and Leliana then each took a turn, and (surprise!) both times it landed on Alistair. Natia settled for a quick peck on the cheek, but Leliana leaned in for a slightly warmer kiss on the lips. Alistair had blushed to his roots, quite happy that his first real kiss ever was with the beautiful bard.
Then it was Alistair's turn. As drunk as he was he had difficulty in even picking up the bottle, and his spin wound up being more of a wobbly kind of flip due to the drink eroding his motor skills. At the exact moment that Alistair had taken his hand off the now-spinning bottle, Leliana yelled out "Maker's breath, what's that over there?", and pointed out towards a small copse of trees.
"What? Where?" Alistair peered into the trees but couldn't see anything.
Leliana was biting her lip to keep from grinning. "Oh, never mind. It must have just been my imagination."
Alistair turned back around, curious to see where the bottle had landed. Just before he looked away it had seemed to be slowing down near Leliana. When he turned back around Zevran gave him a devilish grin and gestured to the bottle that was pointing straight at him.
Alistair stared at the bottle in bemusement; Zevran and Leliana were sitting on complete opposite sides of the circle, there was no way it could have ended up pointing at Zevran—at least not without some assistance. And now he could definitely hear sniggering.
"No." Alistair scowled. "Absolutely not! I am not kissing the assassin."
"Come on Alistair," Natia giggled, "live a little. It's not like it'll kill you."
Zevran leered at the almost-Templar, "Oh I don't know about that, I've been told my kisses are quite…deadly."
Leliana giggled. "Oh go on, it'll be fun. He's a very good kisser."
The alcohol was definitely having an effect on his judgment. "Fine." He grumbled. "If it'll get all of you off my back. But don't even think about telling Morrigan."
Alistair looked over at the elf, who was suddenly much closer than he remembered. Leaning forward, Alistair gently brushed his lips against Zevran's. As he went to pull back he suddenly felt hands twine around his neck, pulling him in tighter. Zevran ran his tongue along Alistair's lips, causing the man to gasp in surprise. This was all the invitation he needed to dart his tongue inside Alistair's mouth, deepening the kiss.
He vaguely heard someone whistling in the background, but all he could focus on was that warm mouth upon his own. As awkward and unsure as he felt, this was so much better than Leliana's kiss had been. There was more desire, more…passion.
Long moments later they broke from the kiss, both men panting. A wicked grin spread across Zevran's mouth. "Well, you are still alive at least."
And that's where his memory gave out. He vaguely recalled more kissing, but he really wasn't sure who with. And running his hands along smooth skin.
Just then his mysterious bed partner rolled over and snaked an arm around his waist. A very tan and slender arm. Deciding to just get it over with, Alistair turned over to see…Zevran. Part of him knew as soon as he felt another body next to him after waking up that it would be Zevran, but it was still unsettling.
"You know," Zevran said with a sly grin, "if I had known getting you to 'cross borders' would be so easy I definitely would have tried much sooner."
Alistair disentangled himself from the assassin, scooting away just a bit. "Um, good morning?" he said, biting his lower lip. "Um, what exactly happened last night?"
Zevran's smile faltered just a little. "Ah, you do not remember? I suppose you did have quite a lot of Oghren's fine ale." He lightly touched the ex-Templar's arm. "We…had a very enjoyable night. Well at least I did," Zevran's grin returned, "and judging from the noises you were making you did as well."
Alistair flushed a bright red. Now he remembered. Zevran had walked him to his tent because his legs hadn't seemed to be working right. And once there he had practically jumped on Zevran. That kiss had felt so good—he wanted more. He needed more.
And he had gotten more, much more. This wasn't exactly how he'd imagined his first time would be. But then again, nothing in their entire journey so far was how he'd imagined things would be.
He looked over at the elf thoughtfully. Zevran was definitely handsome; smooth skin, beautiful amber eyes, and a gorgeous smile. Why would someone like that even be remotely attracted to him? Obviously he had forced himself on him and Zevran had felt obligated to consent due to Natia sparing his life.
He groaned quietly. "Zevran, I'm so sorry."
The elf looked at him curiously. "What exactly are you apologizing for?"
"Well, I took advantage of you. I mean, I know you wanted to kiss me, but I shouldn't have taken it so far. I guess I just lost control and I-"
A slender finger placed upon his lips stopped him mid-ramble. "Alistair. Do you honestly believe that you forced yourself on me? I may not be as strong as you, but I assure you that had I not wanted your attentions I would have easily been able to get away from you."
Alistair's jaw dropped open. "You mean you really wanted to sleep with me? I thought you always just flirted with me because that's what you do with everyone."
Zevran moved his hand back to Alistair's arm, rubbing it up and down. "That does not mean the things I said to you were untrue. You are a very intriguing man, and you are also very handsome."
The ex-templar shifted uncomfortably. "Well, um, that's good—really. But I'm just…this is all just kind of strange, you know?"
Seeing the look of hesitation, Zevran decided to give him a way out. "Drinking does lower one's inhibitions, possibly leading you to do things you otherwise wouldn't. Last night was enjoyable, but I will not ask for more than you are willing to give. Should you wish this to be a one-time thing I will understand."
Alistair thought about that for several moments. He had always envisioned himself with a beautiful woman, having one of those fairytale romances that Leliana was always telling stories about. Isn't that what he was supposed to want? Finally, he spoke up:
"You're right; I really don't want to do this again." Was it his imagination, or did Zevran look disappointed?
He gave a shy smile. "Next time, I want to be sober."
Zevran gave a delighted laugh. "Well, seeing as how our fearless leader will most likely have a hangover from last night I am sure we will be getting a late start this morning. Perhaps we can find a way to pass the time?"
Alistair's reply was to wrap his arms around the elf, leaning in for a kiss. Perhaps fairytale romances were overrated.