It was going to be a chilly night. Zevran's breath misted when he exhaled and the darkening sky was a hard, steely grey. The first few flakes of snow flew, settling in the elf's eyelashes. The tall pines that surrounded the camp rustled in the heightening wind. Zevran lifted one hand, bidding a silent goodnight to Leliana and Salroka, who were on watch, sitting close to the fire in the center of camp. Leliana nodded. Salroka gave Zevran a big doggy grin, tongue lolling.
Zevran ducked into the tent he shared with Ormi. Upon seeing his lover, a low chuckle sounded in his throat. The dwarf was wrapped in what appeared to be every cloak, scarf, and blanket that he and Zevran owned; only his bearded face was visible. Too little too late, the group realized that Ormi, used to living in Dust Town where the lava flow sometimes rose high enough to make everyone nervous, had likely never been cold in his life and had definitely never seen snow. The dwarf was still not used to the harsh weather of the surface.
"Cold, amour?" the elf's lips curved in a sensuous smirk.
"Freezing," Ormi grumbled from within the depths of his pile. "Everything is freezing, specially that… fluffy… white shit. Colder than an imp's grip."
"A what?" Zevran asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow.
"Oh, uh, an imp," Ormi replied. "Kalah used to tell us stories of creatures that lived in the deepest mines. It's said that the imps live in underground lakes, and that their grip is so cold it burns, blisters the skin as surely… as a brand does." The man unconsciously rubbed his cheek, the one bearing the casteless brand, against one of the many scarves that encircled his head.
Zevran unlaced his boots, shook them off, and began to remove the rest of his armor. "You know, there are good things that come with this bitter weather…"
Ormi's eyebrows lifted, his expression was sceptical. "Hmn? Like what?"
"Like getting warm together," the elf purred.
Now stripped to his underclothes, Zevran approached his lover. The dwarf-pile shuffled away from him.
"Yer cold…" Ormi said, almost accusingly.
Zevran stifled a laugh. Thrusting his lower lip out in a pout, he gave an exaggerated little shiver. "Yes, my dear Ormi, very cold indeed. Would you see me freeze?"
The dwarf's moustache twitched, "No… 'course not. Get in here."
After much untangling and unwrapping, Zevran was able to slip into the warmth of the pile, sliding himself neatly into Ormi's lap. He sighed happily, helping the dwarf re-wrap the bundle of clothes and blankets around them.
"Cold…" Ormi muttered, his hands nevertheless finding the small of Zevran's back, pulling the elf more firmly against him.
"And you are so very warm." Zevran purred, nuzzling Ormi's temple, lips teasing the shell of the dwarf's ear, wiggling his hips a little.
Ormi grunted, a smile curving his lips as he burrowed against Zevran, hands stealing down to cup the elf's ass.
"You see?" Zevran chuckled. "This weather is not so bad after all."