This story is dedicated to Dayne, my one brain child that never had the sense to leave before I did horrible things to him in rp.
The idea of one of my favourite imaginary men meeting Zevran has bounced around my head for years, and after providing me with years of entertainment with his escapades im finally allowing him to be alone in a room with everyone's favourite assassin.
Dayne is not a pc character because though he was born a DA role play character, his background would never have fit any of the origins stories in the game. Just think of him as a cameo, one amongst the many that make up the world of Thedas.
Uber thanks and squishy hugs to my dear friend Susie who intervened when writers block was making me inclined to head butt the wall.
Fledgling
Antiva simmered in the heat of the dawning night, her skies ablaze with orange and gold streaks that seemed to stretch and thin as the stars unveiled themselves one by one. The sun that sank slowly against the backdrop was the colour of a honeyed apricot, distorted in its own, thick heat haze. It was not just a beautiful sight to him. It was a catalyst to that moment in which he felt the first touch of anticipation. It caused the tiny shiver at the base of his spine, when the world slid from seething, fragrant heat to the slightly cooler touch of the oncoming night. It was in itself, an unsheathing of a quiet blade. As the light withdrew the shadows would grow and birth it usual children of intrigue, vice and murder into the streets below. In the cooling air the scent of dahlias become fresher, less cloying and the first tentative breeze kissed the sweat beaded skin at the back of his neck.
Zevran watched until that last dip of the sun slipped away like the tip of a flame, extinguished by the flat horizon of water that would soon look like black glass if the currents remained calm. It left a dim film over his eyes and he waited for the few seconds it would take for his vision to adjust, the shadows seeming to build before him in stages. They crept up, getting deeper every time he looked away.
Eventually he turned away from the balcony, moving back into the small room which was still close with the heat yet to be cooled by the night's gift of cleansing breeze. His growing thrill with the dawning night now ebbed as he flopped lethargically onto the silken bed, eyes closing while hands laced over the breast of his armor.
This evening's endeavours were going to be less than arduous and required at least a few hours wait. However it was a necessary evil, his target would be arriving for the banquet shortly and he could not be seen roaming the manor. He had been expecting a move like this from his superiors, rumour had it that he'd been labelled as being a little too sure of himself of late, a quality that while admirable, was dangerous in abundance.
After passing his test he'd surprised them all by excelling even further in his arts, and thinking upon the incredulous faces of his torturers as he demanded more…, even one year later caused his generous mouth to pull up in a self satisfied smile. He was young, lethal and he knew it, a combination that would cause any man to be cocky, and Zevran seemed to strut with it, even when still.
They had warned him, not to become complacent. Yet he had simply bowed his respectful bow and smiled while he continued to court death….and likely his Mistress. It was his guess, that such a dull duty was an attempt at a peg being taken down. A job so depressingly easy that it was beneath him, a warning not to allow his well made boots to get too big.
Idly he wondered if the woman retained her looks in mature years…should he perhaps add his own flair and have the woman consentingly debauched before he did the deed. He dismissed this notion with a small smirk…the women from Kirkwall were so…pointy. He'd heard she dealt in information, a surprising package for a spy indeed, one with its own retinue of guards who were clearly mercenaries. Well trained but not always known for their loyalty. Gold in the right hand would ensure that the sultry evening heat, a few of the well trained house slaves and the further lure of drink would take care of the men once Veronesi retired for the night.
The plan was well oiled, the noble would die tonight… perhaps some of his time could be salvaged, in the meantime there was little else to do but lie here in the slowly cooling silence, idly lost in his own thoughts while sharp ears remained trained on the corridors outside.
The wait was long enough to grow dull but not quite enough for him to become restless. He sat up at the sound of steps, a woman's voice low and thick with high society breeding, though still pleasant as she gave her men instructions. Without even straining his ears he could hear the rustle of a heavy silk gown, memorizing the sound of her footfalls beneath it before the quiet click of a door announced that the Madame had retired to her room. He sat up on the bed but didn't slip from it just yet, now was not the time for fate to intervene and allow him to make the wrong noise at entirely the wrong time. Bored as he might be upon this particular appointment, he would do no less than his best. Perhaps his calm acceptance might infuriate them further. He always had a habit of poking things long before he should have.
As predicted, bored guards with nothing but their own company were easily swayed by the quiet peace they had experienced so far in their few weeks here in Antiva. The muted giggles and conspiratorial whispers announced the arrival of the slaves. Their mischievous beauty an easy leash with which to lead the guards away for most of the night, and once he heard the last sounds of their departure, he finally stood.
Forty five minutes had passed since Madame Veronesi had retired to her rooms. If she was not sleeping then he could at least be assured she would have found some way to relax in the time it had taken her guard to be led away. Unaware, with defences down and no guard, this would be simple and quick. No treachery awaited him in the corridors, they were as empty as promised, and yet his compact but powerful form moved with a glide that was still purposefully silent. The turning of the doorknob in his gloved hand was barely above a soft, metallic whisper. Pushing open the door and stepping inside was done in one swift motion and even before the door closed behind him, his eyes were roaming the room.
It was far bigger than the one he had been waiting in, opulent to the extreme as a mark of respect from the Madame's host of course. Seeing such a room it was almost a shame the man would be shouldering the blame for tonight's misdeeds…the count was something of hidden artist. Light, gauzy cloth of varying soft shades lined every wall and framed the intricate stone archway of the open balcony, and the sweet Dahlia scented breeze lifted them randomly with a dreamy, balletic grace. Huge spun glass vases, choked with birds of paradise sat upon white sandstone plinths, artfully draped and heavy with their own perfume that would settle on faintly cooling sweat dampened skin. The bed was heavy with age and solid yet almost fragile looking with its intricately carved posts and soft, fluttering hangings. It was not a room that invited murder and it was almost with a regretful pang that he acknowledged he would ruin this artful beauty.
It was at this point that he realized something of a flaw in his intended endeavours.
Madame Veronesi was nowhere to be seen…
Golden eyes narrowed and his stride was slightly agitated as he crossed the room, daggers ready but impotent at his side as he stepped onto the balcony and looked down onto the gardens below.
Nothing.
The woman had not left the room before, with or after the guards. He had been listening intently for her distinctive step alone and they had never left the room. And yet she was not here, this beautiful room was completely undisturbed and somehow…he had…missed something. Pride should likely not hurt physically yet Zevran felt its sting twist his guts when he thought upon how he would have to return to his superiors and explain the contract…a 54 year old noble woman, had given him the slip.
The soft snick of the lock spun him to face the room as though he were a distant part of the mechanism himself. The oil lamps in here were dormant, remaining unlit and therefore condemning the room to a teasing shadow that slanted enough to show a pair of long legs, the rest of the figure dimmed to obscurity where the cloud scattered moonlight had yet to touch it. A vague outline that was only just darker than the deepest of the shadows.
He found himself focusing on those revealed legs, perhaps because they were the only part illuminated by the partial moonlight, or perhaps because he didn't quite dare move just yet, it had been an awful long time since anybody had been able to sneak up on him. It didn't make his heart leap with fear, but it certainly made him cautious. It had also changed the game
Silver gleamed in a line of deadly intent, the tip of the sword's blade tapping gently against one soft leather boot that climbed and defined a long, lean leg to mid thigh.
His first confused thought was that such a style should look utterly feminine, but that thicker taper at the hip that slid into view was far too much like his own build. As soon as he realised that his eyes had been sliding up the length of the unexpected intruder's leg they quickly snapped back to the blade.
"I am afraid my employer is not fond of stray birds fluttering into her bedchambers, I found it prudent to remove her from the premises for the time being. I am sure you understand"
The voice was a touch of cool silk on the brow, smooth and cultured…this was no thug, they tended to stumble over such words as 'bird'. It was also flavoured with a quiet amusement that Zevran was undoubtedly sure was at his expense. He must paint quite an ironic picture for the shrouded man. As always, when suddenly finding himself in an unplanned and most assuredly dangerous situation, Zevran did what he perhaps did better than most. He improvised, already quickly adapting his approach with what little information he had gathered in those few moments and those carefully amused words. With no allowance for fear he drove onwards purely on a reserve of his own sheer, confidant nerve.
"Ah, it would seem I am a cornered Crow…I assume the desired lady was carried out by one of the guards? Inventive…I did not hear her steps leave" He stepped into a bar of moonlight and allowed the stranger to see his own slanted smile as he tapped the tip of his dagger to his temple carefully. " Tch tch, you have made me look quite the clown friend, might I offer my sincerest admiration" He took another step into the room, the shrouded figure still unmoving aside from that almost negligent tap of blade to boot. Neither man would retreat of course, or allow the other to leave. His unexpected opponent must kill the threat to his charge, and of course Zevran had his own duty, the crows did not like their opposition to be quite as skilled as this…it upset the balance of their deadly commerce.
A soft sound that might almost have been a laugh and the stranger lifted his sword to point towards the balcony. "Oh Madame Veronesi is far more adventurous than most would give someone her age credit for. She was quite happy to play as bait, though she left by less conventional yet…quieter means than exiting via the hallway. Quite a woman" The long booted figure shifted and at the same time the scraps of cloud were pulled away like a veil. The moon grew full in her radiance, spilling her silver into the room and throwing the strangers face into sudden relief.
Acutely aware that they were now moments away from putting their blades to use, Zevran still had to pause in order to take the man in, allowing his flattering gaze to go undisguised. It did the job of halting the newly revealed assailant, and allowed him those few seconds more to take him in.
It was an elf, only slightly taller than him. Beneath the loose wine coloured tunic he wore he was a touch broader, yet his shape hinted at the same supple muscle tone as the Antivan, built for speed rather than simple brute strength. Yet never had he seen skin that pale, the crow fleetingly believing that touching it might feel like touching polished bone. The full mouth looked carved, almost unreal, as though it had taken a chisel to curve its corners into a faint, almost pleasant smile.
A lifting of one dark brow brought Zevran's attention to a pair of eyes framed with dark lashes, naturally thick. They might have overwhelmed the intensity of the pale elf's gaze if it were not for the glowing coals of violet that burned in such a lush setting.
"Do you commonly size up your opponent in such leisure Crow? Perhaps I should assist if you if you are to fully satisfy yourself that you are ready to continue" The elf turned slowly on the spot, his hands loose at his sides. From the front, Zevran had been able to see the man had his hair tied back, practical when expecting a fight. However he did not quite expect the long pendulum swing of a thick ebon braid, its end touching just where those lengthy boots ended when the other elf stilled. The crow was gifted with a fleeting vision of that tightly bound hair released and unfurling like nested silk.
He indulged in this view for only a fraction of a second before his own incredulity stole his attention and golden eyes narrowed. The pretty, arrogant bastard had turned his back on him!
Whether it was an invitation or just a show of contempt he didn't know and didn't particularly care to ask. It wasn't just that he had a duty to make sure this man didn't leave the room, he had felt the hot flash of his pride again when the man believed him so little of a threat as to turn his back even for a second!
Very well, if he wanted to play games the Antivan certainly wasn't above taking advantage of such elaborate gestures of disdain.
Lengthening his body for every advantage of reach he could get, Zevran lunged across that few foot of space, dagger already pulled back, visualising the spider web of the nervous system that crawled up that postured spine.
It only took seconds and he was down.
Zevran was forced onto his knees by pain that seemed to sink into the muscle of his arm like lead, commanding that he drop to perhaps relieve leverage and pressure. That still and complacent pose had turned into a quick and calculated flurry of movement from the pale man that the Antivan simply hadn't been able to follow. The man could move.
His blade had been inches away when that exposed back was turned and hands had struck out at this sweeping arm, fingers and thumbs digging and hooking into nerves at the back of his elbow and wrist. Those fingers had pressed the sudden, heavy weight of pain into his arm and he felt it wrenched up and moved like a stiff leash to guide him to his knees. It hurt as much as the man had likely intended and Zevran thought dimly that he could likely make it hurt a lot worse if he was always as accurate with his hands as this.
"Now that was rude" A foot kicked out at his dagger and sent it skittering across the mosaic tiled floor until it hit the wall somewhere amongst the hangings, till calmly fluttering in the breeze as I nothing more disturbing than sleep were going on here.
As he began to master this most precisely applied pain Zevran had time to notice that somewhere between his strike and the hold that was now placed on him, the other elf had dropped his sword.
That hadn't been an accident. He'd chosen to drop it in order to use this debilitating hold that much Zevran was sure of. Though the lack of something sharp in his opponents hand should have likely made him feel better, he couldn't help but imagine it as another arrogant slight upon himself.
He had more knives of course, he always had more knives yet he refrained from drawing them now while at such a disadvantage, he wouldn't even be able to reach in order to strike without the possibility of wrenching his shoulder from its socket.
"You know I have noticed that whenever I come up against one of you Crows, there always seems to be an urgency for the kill, I can only presume this is an effort expended in a desire fulfil the oath's of your contract" A minute shift of fingers meant the pain lessened, though they remained poised to push down into position again in case the bronzed elf made too many sudden moves.
"Your dedication is commendable, but as you have no doubt recognized your quarry has escaped, I assure you my blood on your hands, as hot and vital as it might feel won't resolve the matter. Now…I don't suppose if I release my hold, you might try to be civil for a moment"
Zevran grinned against the ebbing pain, bruised pride aside he had to admit the man certainly knew how to put on a show, that conversational tone almost pleasant, like he were speaking to a soft voiced scholar instead of a man who could probably kill him if he chose to this instant. The voice was so reasonable that he found he wasn't at that knife edge stage where he actually feared for his life yet. This was a curious turn up and it certainly intrigued him, however it didn't mean that Zevran meant to extend this elf the same courtesy. He would play if the bodyguard wished to play, but he wasn't about to stop looking for opportunities. It was now not only a desire to execute orders, nor a point to his pride. The game was ultimately to fun to resist.
"I am thinking probably not" he replied, approaching honesty because it was likely to provoke the most visceral reaction from his opponent, "However allow me to applaud you on your ingenuity, a pretty peacock with such masterful skills, whoever would have guessed"
"Thank you" The kick caught him on one side of the jaw and the rest of his body followed until he was sprawled a few feet away, already rolling his body twice in anticipation of a weapon coming down upon his disorientated body. He sprang up onto his feet with swift grace, his jaw somewhat numb but his eyes bright with the rush of moving again, rolling the shoulder of his newly relinquished arm and feeling the tingle of blood returning to the compressed points.
The man had not moved, in fact he seemed quite content to observe the Crow with an inquisitive interest from a distance while hand held wrist at the small of his back. He appeared to politely and pointedly wait to allow Zevran a next move should he choose to employ one before speaking again.
"If you persist I will regretfully have no option but to defend myself. Madame Veronesi is gone my friend, and so is your client. He wasn't entirely too careful about whom he relayed his plans to. I should imagine his servants will find the body in the morning. Your fee will of course not be retracted since there is nobody left to do so. I presume you still insist upon payment up front locally?"
This certainly gave Zevran pause where the elf's calm and moderate tones hadn't. "You assume correctly. Just who are you. Such familiarity with us sinister birds and yet I think I would have little trouble remembering a description such as yours. Fascinating and frustrating in equal measures, you certainly are one with a flair for the dramatic" He began to move again, his feet taking him in a wide circle about the elf, forcing him to turn if he wished to keep the Antivan in sight. The pale elf obliged him.
"My name is Dayne, you will forgive me if I confess I already know yours, your client was most gracious with his information when we last met. You need not worry about his mouth running away from him again however" Step for step the man followed Zevran's prowling circle, not blind to the fact that the assassin was moving almost imperceptibly closer with each completed circuit.
"My intention was to delay you while the good Lady was taken to one of the ships, I must also admit to some curiosity, I have heard quite audacious stories about Zevran Arainai in my time here. I have no intention of killing you if I don't have to, Madame Veronesi would find it somewhat unsporting. It cheers her somewhat when she draws the attention of the crows it lets her know the value of her trade. Perhaps you might get another chance at the elusive woman. But the source of her problem has been taken care of, her business at the banquet was a success and she see's no reason I should deprive a man of his life for simply performing his duties"
Dayne certainly seemed generous with his knowledge, and by all accounts Zevran would apparently be free to leave at some point if the pale skinned gentleman were to be trusted. However all this seemed to do was make him feel negligible, and if it was true the man had dealings with the crows before, might it not also be true that this was yet again another attempt from his superiors at tempering his cocky nature? Such a thing would put into question where the Crows loyalties lay when it came to its clients but that was a little too much politics for his taste and he found himself more incensed with the possibility that the entire mission had been a goose chase designed for some prescribed humbling, delivered in this case, by a ghost like elf who was starting to perhaps unknowingly push several of the Antivans buttons.
Yet all the knowledge seemed to do was compound the desire to at least leave some mark on the man. If he was to accept a metaphorical strike to the nose like an over eager puppy when it came to the Crows, he would simply have to find some sort of contentment with gaining the upper hand.
His ceaseless circles suddenly erupted into a charge, the weight of his shoulder colliding with the bodyguard's relaxed pose, his momentum and a foot hooking behind an ankle assisting him on riding the man onto the floor, causing it to shudder with the impact. Gloved hands fisted into fine, wine coloured linen and pulled the prone man halfway up while his weight settled firmly over the body below him at the waist. "Tell me my mysterious friend, exactly what curiosity does the name Zevran Arainai conjure for you?"
That almost serenely mocking smile was still there when Dayne opened his eyes and not for the first time since this impromptu meeting, the Crow dearly wished to knock it off that flawless face. He watched the bodyguard prop himself up on his elbows and for a wonder let him since he wasn't yet making an effort to throw the assassin off.
"You have made a name for being as precocious as you are lethal. I think Madame Veronesi was almost disappointed you weren't going to try seducing her. Though in retrospect I think she might consider your foreplay a little extreme for her tastes"
Zevran felt his body rise so that only his knees remained on the floor as the man suddenly lifted his hips, upper body falling back while hands suddenly settled on thighs and slid their way up to disappear under the leather panels of his armoured skirting. Some might have mistaken such a gesture as its own brand of foreplay but the Antivan's hands were already trying to restrain wrists as searching fingers found both hilts of the fine daggers strapped beneath there. The result was that they became frozen in a stubborn tableau. The strong body of the pale elf half raised, his hands now curled around the small daggers beneath armour, refusing to let go, while Zevran's grip at the wrists likewise refused to allow two more of his weapons to be taken from him.
"It would be a wasteful lie to disagree with the rumors. But such character does not mean I am also stupid. Let go of the knives my handsome peacock" The fierce challenge in those golden eyes was amicable in a way, though the possibility for a deadlier intent swam across his eyes like a dark fin cutting through water.
"Why would I do that when it finally looks like you're having fun" His grip was tested as porcelain wrists twisted and he was sufficiently distracted by reinforcing his hold when the body below him bucked again and rolled. A confusing battle of grip and leverage occurred until knees spread and then pressed on inner thighs, yet again finding just the spot to put their weight. More pain sank into femoral nerve clusters and hands loosened enough for the daggers to be drawn. He heard rather than saw them clatter across the floor much as the first had, while vicious cramps bit deep into muscle. Dayne seemed happy to contemplate Zevran as he struggled to prop himself up and push him off.
Once again the man seemed only too happy to oblige him, and hands curled into the shoulder straps of his armour, holding him up while knees relented enough to just rest in their threatening position "While I am an honest man and wont deny that such a position enhances a frame like yours I really don't want to have to do that again. Now are we to continue rolling around the floor while I strip you of knives?"
Now that he was hauled closer to Dayne he could smell the man's skin, a clean scent that was more subtle than Antiva's exotic, perfumed breeze. Eyes zeroed in on the pristine dip of an exposed clavicle and gave the man a wry smile while he shifted his weight to test the bodyguard's attention, which didn't waver if the answering shift of warning knee's was anything to go by. "You are not even sweating, this is most insulting" Two blades left and they were practical only as a last resort, he'd have to catch the man unawares and he was starting to get the impression that was about to happen.
"Zevran my dear persistent Crow, if it is your desire to see me sweat with exertion you might want to try for a different tactic than trying to bury your daggers in me"
"Are you suggesting perhaps I should bury something else in you?" It was the only response that statement deserved and who wouldn't be curious in his current position?
Dayne laughed and it was free from that mocking edge for once, it had been surprised out of him and was therefore less theatrical. His body shifted above and over Zevran now as he lowered him back down by the hold on leather armour. When hands rested on the floor either side of the Antivans head his body was effectively caged. "I'm not entirely sure, so far you seem determined to keep forcing me to restrain you, this leads me to believe that your open to options on that score Zevran"
It occurred to the crow that the weight had now left his legs, yet he hadn't moved them from their spread pose, it certainly caused the scene to look far more lewd than it was, and the promise of it was suddenly thick on the air. It also seemed to be there in the dark violet eyes that now peered down at him. They were very neutral eyes, expressively letting him know that things could go one way or another and it was entirely Zevran's choice which way that would be. Two blades left and the need for a vulnerable moment, it wasn't a difficult bridge to gap and it wouldn't be the first time he'd had to change his tactics in this manner, it likely wouldn't be the last. If he needed to get this mysterious peacock into bed in order to satisfy if not his contract then at least his bruised ego…well it wasn't an arena in which Zevran could be called a novice.
"You seem to like weaving a web of many words in order to tell me you desire my form my silver tongued friend, I must confess to preferring a rather more direct approach myself. Though I am flattered you went to all this trouble when all you needed to do was ask" He tested his antagonist by lifting one leg and curling it about the elf's lower back, drawing those hips to rest invitingly against his own. "I will admit I am grudgingly impressed with your capabilities so far, I certainly cannot resist testing them further when you offer so nicely. By all mean's…in this capacity you may go ahead and…do your worst"
Something dark but not unpleasant unfurled in Daynes eyes and suddenly Zevran was being hauled up by his armour again, that curled leg sliding away as he was pulled to his feet, already moving backwards before he could completely retain his balance on legs that still faintly ached from the press of the pale elf's knees.
"I'm afraid if it was as easy as simply asking you I would have found the prospect less appealing. I can find a whore anywhere in Antiva…but a fledgling crow, they are much more rare. I was quite convinced I wouldn't have time to taste the pleasures of Antiva on this trip, yet it seems fate smiles with sardonic lips tonight"
It was like a dance, his body guided, stroked and turned in manipulative hands that drove him into one of the white pillars of the balcony archway. His own hands scrabbled up the sandstone in order to find something to grip as the sudden rush of Dayne's body following his in a warm press at his back, let him know that this strange bodyguard had decided to take him at his word and intended to do so with the upmost enthusiasm. It was certainly more complimentary to his pride than the sham of his mission, and it still held a hint of that deadly promise that just perhaps one of them might still decide that blood would be spilled tonight. Death and sex had long since become one and the same when it came to the rush that sent his pulse into hurried flutters. The assault had been firm but not brutal. Dayne apparently still giving Zevran the opportunity to resist if he were inclined to do so.
Minutes ago he had been trying to kill this man. Now his hands were reaching behind him, finding a shaking hold on hips and tugging to encourage the man to press his advantage further, nails scoring into leather when he was answered with teeth climbing the length of one ear. He tugged again, not wanting an inch of space between them, irate with the panelled skirting of his own armour, he wanted to feel the man twitch and thicken against his backside. Even the carefully concealed death slotted in his bracers was forgotten for now.
As calm, cool and aloof as this stunning creature might be, watching him come apart enough from his composed nature became a desire that was unrivalled to Zevran in this particular moment. He wanted to watch him break in that uncontrollable moment when a body took over from any conscious thought, then perhaps he might feel they were upon even ground. What came after that…
The armour was definitely an obstruction and it seemed as though Dayne was of the same opinion. Long fingered hands danced over armour seeking out buckles and catches. He seemed in no particular hurry but he returned the sinuous grind of hips the Antivan had now adopted as his body grew restless for friction.
Pale lips were a furnace of warm breath at his throat and it was tipped to lengthen access with an approving groan from the crow, wet heat finding his fluttering pulse beneath thin, sensitive skin and stroking it just as Zevran felt his armour loosen around the chest following the faint ring of buckles unfastening under skilful fingers . Hot goose flesh crawled up the back of his thighs and neck when teeth sank around the caged bird in his throat and held it for that exploring tongue to worry at. Suddenly his own fingers were assisting Dayne with straps and ties in a sudden desire to feel more of the man's body bend and flex against his, a sensation the thick leather armour was denying him.
Between them it was a work of mere minutes before the armour was discarded in a negligent pile moments before white hands spilled their covetous heat over his bared chest. They moved in a questing manner over his skin, searching for every curve and dip of muscle, sliding down and pausing to stroke at the ridges of stomach muscles that tensed and relaxed with the lazy grinding movement of his own hips, a silent encouragement that was acknowledged with smaller, quicker bites to the curve of one shoulder.
"Tell me Dayne, my most recent and manipulative friend, are all your conquests attained in this manner? It would be a shame to learn you must wait for assassins in order to satisfy your needs"
"Not all of them no, but when an opportunity such as this presents itself I have been known to occasionally side step the preliminaries, besides you don't strike me as the type to appreciate a moonlit walk along the coast Zevran"
The articulate presence of Dayne was something of a refreshing change for the young Crow, it was a challenge much like their own very differed fighting styles, and Zevran was quite willing to add his own verbose parry and riposte as long as this man continued touching him with hands that radiating heat despite the cool, deceptive tone of his pale skin.
"I think perhaps not. Moonlit rooftop chases…ah!...are more my area of expertise" The sharp gasp was pulled from him by thumbs that slipped just beneath the waistband of loose linen shorts, that covered all the modesty Zevran seemed to think he required beneath the leather skirting he usually wore. Sliding downward they almost freed the Antivan from the thin confines as the material followed, the soft pads finding both malleable dips of flesh between hip and groin. Fingers curled around thighs, parting them enough to slide an angled thigh between them, encouraging the Antivan to rock against its subtle movements while those searching hands left him.
Zevran certainly wasn't too proud in accepting the offer of relieving some of his building tension, his lower back curving slightly as impatient hips picked up on the movement of that leather clad thigh and moved in imitation, forehead dropping to the cool stone as the air between them became gradually more fevered, making each breeze from the balcony a welcome and soothing kiss to bronzed skin that was already prickling with a fine sheen of sweat.
Perhaps the pale elf had also finally succumbed to the heat for there was a distant sound of disturbed cloth and then the sensation of slipping into a warm bath as the bare skin pressed against his back rather than the fine cloth Dayne had been wearing. He approved of this development and twisted his head to perhaps see the effects of this unveiling. He turned his head into a sculpted mouth that was waiting for his and allowed his eyes to be distracted in favour of opening his mouth for the coaxing sweep of tongue his own responding in a brief electric touch which ignited a more desperate coupling of mouths while a hand slipped over his shoulder to cup and stroke the upturned curve of his throat.
The kiss seemed to last for longer than it likely was, stretching out in a haze of still heat gathering between them until finally the Antivan couldn't take the suspense anymore. He had to see. Still languishing in that kiss he turned from the pillar, an awkward movement until Dayne obligingly slid his thigh away. He allowed one last, deep suckle at his lower lip before pushing the an to arms length in order to get a proper look now he had lost at least some of his fussy clothing. Looking him up and down, Zevran breathed out slowly and reached out a hand to the most obvious place on all that pale, toned flesh that he supposed was his for the touching right now.
Like his face, Dayne's chest was that same marble white that looked like it should be cold as ice yet he knew even before touching it that the skin would be as warm as his own. And then there were the markings. His own body exhibited its own strategic markings, but somebody had been given this man's body as a canvas and they had seen fit to create no less than a work of art. Black in curled over the lines and curves on one side of his chest, the clannish markings crawling over his back and shoulder. They drew the eye in sweeps and whorls and the Antivan could have spent hours simply tracing them with his mouth. It wasn't simply pretty, the markings were chaotic and wild in contrast to the trained composure that seemed to fit Dayne like a well made suit. He took a step back letting his vision pan outward from the hypnotising tattoos to take in the firm muscle structure, a well built man who would never go to excess lest it impeded the swiftness of his movement. The taper of his body into dark leathers that looked poured on was irresistible to eyes that followed it downwards. Noticing the boots again he had the fleeting thought of 'those must be left on' before he realised there was just one thing missing from this picture that was already making his heart race and his cock strain against thin fabric.
"Unbind your hair….please"
The words came out thick in his throat and he turned towards the bed, wishing to gain some control of himself. When he had gotten himself comfortable he turned back to his visual feast and was treated to the man's back, muscle pulled taut with arms lifted so that his fingers could continue to unravel the thick braid that was already halfway unbound. With a final shake of the head that glorious ebon mass was free and Zevrans fingers curled into silken bedclothes as the sudden urge to bury his hands in it overtook him. He caught his breath in his throat when the man turned and all of a sudden it mattered very little who bled, who came apart or indeed who's night ended in death. The man that stalked towards the bed with an unhurried stride was something rare. Carefully cultivated of course, but none the less rare, and he was approaching the Antivan with a very determined expression.
He wasn't aware of laying back, perhaps he had been pushed, it was hard to think as one nipple was suddenly seized by lips that pulled and suckled at the raised peak until it grew stiff and sensitive enough for tiny scrapes of teeth to make him squirm beneath Daynes upheld body. For a moment all he could do was claw fitfully at shoulders till that mouth slid away in a wet line down his stomach and suddenly gloved hands were finally plunging in the thick, living silk of dark hair.
Looking down the length of his body he could see the way pale lips hovered over the waistband of his only piece of clothing aside from the gloves and bracers. The slim fabric was a covering and nothing more and it hid nothing of his shape beneath. Thighs tensed when the fabric warmed with close breath, that enticing mouth now poised above the stretched fabric. When Dayne spoke Zevran nearly jumped out of his skin, far too hypnotised by waiting to see and feel the man's mouth descend.
"When you decide you would like me to remove these, perhaps you might like to first remove the daggers concealed in your bracers…I wouldn't care for any accidents while im occupied"
He was too slow to stop the guilty sweep of his own eyes the bracers on his forearm, but was saved any comment when moist heat pressed against tented fabric, dampening it a few shades darker as an agile tongue found the raised vein right at the root of him. Lips sealed around cloth and flesh and Zevran felt as though he'd suddenly had all the air knocked out of him as Dayne sucked, making his hips jerk while his fingers curled tighter into hair. He could feel his own gathering moisture grow, and barked a strange sound when hot mouth sucked and pulled at the cloth, the low groan rolling from a pale throat making his insides flip and clench.
Zevran did not want to give up his last weapons, but he also dearly wanted to feel that promised heat wrapped about his flesh with as much ardour as the man was giving him now. He didn't believe for a second that Dayne wouldn't deny him until he complied and he was appalled at how close he already was to throwing the blades aside. He didn't have time to feel appalled when Dayne took the tip of him into his mouth, still covered, treating him to a firm suckle that made the Antivan's eyes tilt back in his head, hips giving a couple of shallow thrusts. Dayne must have sensed he was close to getting what he wanted and pushed a little further, his thumb pressing the fabric between cheeks to touch upon the concealed opening, circling with a light pressure that made the crow thrust up again. He held on for as long as he could, jerking and twisting on the bed, but the promise of moist heat and hungry lips was just too much.
"Creador maladita sea!"
Zevran snarled as he wrenched the daggers free, unable to stand the teasing, the blades tossed aside to the floor. The moment their metallic chime on the tiles sounded, the shorts were tugged down just as hips lifted, brushing unfettered heat against that tormenting mouth. His breath left him in a ragged gasp and he pulled back to strike again. This time the tip of his cock sank into the welcoming heat and he fell back with a choked sound, just barely able to stop himself from pushing all the way in. It was purely about sensation now and he let it roll through his body while holding himself still, letting the warmth poised around his flesh sink through the rest of him. Daynes mouth drew back to allow his tongue the leisure of tracing over the ridges and soft roundness of the tip, delicately lapping at weeping fluid, watching with up tilted eyes as the assassin dug the heels of his palms into the bed. When Zevran's body relaxed a little he did it again, not relenting this time. The Antivan could feel the tip of that tongue squirming against the small slit coaxing more until a high whimper escaped his throat unbidden.
Dimly he felt his legs being freed of the shorts but that was rather unimportant while he was poised within a mouth that seemed determined to tease him in this manner until he was climbing the walls. Inch by slow inch he felt that tight warmth descend on him until impatience and a busy tongue that pressed and writhed against him, directed his hips to surge forward while his grip on thick hair tightened until he felt himself pass into convulsing tightness that was Daynes throat. The groan that built up in his throat came out small and strained, his body stretched towards that hot suction while his eyes took in the extraordinary picture of the mans mouth wrapped so firmly around him, nose pressed to the yielding flesh of his stomach. It occurred to him that his unplanned move might not have been appreciated, but Dayne had so far neither protested nor expressed a desire to remove himself.
Cautiously the Antivan shifted his hips, pulling back and sliding back in. The sight of his cock moving between passive lips that had quipped and taunted so elegantly was something Zevran would keep to memory for quite a long time afterwards. Pale lips repositioned themselves but the pale elf made no move to disengage nor to stop the Antivan from controlling how much was taken into that willing mouth. Cautiously Zevran propped himself up onto his knees, now looking down into his lap as he pushed up again, the resulting slick slide of tongue and throat triggering a sonorous groan while he flung out a hand to steady himself, catching one of the gauzy hangings and wrapping it about a fist tightly. Fingers did the same in dark hair and he pulled the other back, once again only the tip of him held between waiting lips while a restless tongue lapped almost delicately at the throbbing glans.
"What…no pretty words to sum up the moment this time my eloquent friend?" The resolute tongue still made him twitch slightly but he was gaining a little composure from this slightly more dignified pose, he could do without writhing around like land bound fish for little while. No he was quite happy having Dayne right where he was after the little trick with his last knives.
Slowly hip's moved back and forth, settling for a gentler pace for the moment, giving Zevran all the time in the world to watch the man bent before him, the watching almost as exhilarating as having control of that welcoming heat. But even at a slow pace Dayne worked him like a professional with every ounce of enthusiasm and soon the Crow's strokes were growing deeper, picking up the pace as he neared the barrier of the man's accommodating throat. When he once again slipped in as far as he could be taken, Zevran's world narrowed down to a sensation like a wet hand, squeezing around him while the pale man swallowed him, his strong back curved slightly as he bent to improve the angle.
"Meirda...you use your mouth like a whore my friend….ah!...i think you have convinced me into testing your skills"
Fingers of both hands curled, increasing grip on both hair and twisted bed hangings, readying his leverage before he held Dayne's head still, slowly withdrawing with a long hiss of air between clenched teeth. He caught the elf's eye, his own half lidded and seemingly drunk with lust, then while holding that gaze he deliberately thrust up as far as his body would allow him, holding the elf in place while his hips continued to twitch and buck as if they could possibly bury themselves any deeper. When the jagged edge of pleasure ebbed a little he did it again, revelling in the tight confines with its supple, stroking walls. A rhythm began to build that grew in its urgency and once again Zevran glanced down at his talented new friend, eyes giving a warning that very soon control would be lost. Dayne responded by swallowing hard and fast the next time his throat was filled and the Crow's influence over his own body was snapped like a twig.
Muscle stood out clearly in both arms as his hips drove forward repeatedly, the exertion clearly marked on his skin in a fine sheen of sweat. With a tortured growl his hand left the thick nest of hair, grasping one of the long posts as all sense and restraint were lost to the single compulsion of spilling that tightly clenched fist in his belly. The air was filled with scattered Antivan words interceded with keening moans that rose in their pitch and frequency while he pillaged the handsome peacock still bent between his thighs. The thick purr of cloth finally giving up on the strain signalled a sudden stuttering in the Antivans hips only able to pant now as he felt himself thicken impossibly. A final inarticulate shout drove his hips up a final time, spreading the scalding result of his climax over a compliant tongue before he finished, pulsing and shivering back in the depths of the elf's throat.
Zevran had no idea how long he spent half bent over the pale man, his body was still jerking with aftershocks and his breathing took its time in slowing down. He shuddered as he felt the heated tongue cleaning him efficiently. he was already painfully sensitive and eventually pulled away flopping onto his back, still bathing in the serene amber afterglow, skin prickling with tight nerve endings. He didn't protest when he felt a body settle over his, and his mouth was compliant to a kiss that sought to smoulder gently between yielding lips and slow tongues. He allowed his body to be calmly stroked by firm, tactile hands while his mind remained floating out of reach for a while.
He felt his arms being carefully lifted so that fingers pointed loosely to the headboard with its mound of pillows and fussy cushions, the backs of long fingered hand's caressing their undersides, following the line down to the ribs, his waist. Those hands were careful not to over stimulate nerves, skipping away when they found a spot that still made the Antivan shift impatiently or curl away from fingers. Gradually Daynes weight was settling on his body, slowly enough that he was once again treated to that sensation of slipping into warm water when broad chest became flush against his own. Everything was so measured an done with such a calm self assurance that Zevran was unaware of what was really happening until Daynes body shifted and a jerk of arms preceded something being tightened about both wrists.
Golden eyes snapped open and he tilted his head back to see Dayne busy in the act of securing his arms together around one of the intricate carvings at the headboard, quick fingers working in practiced tandem with each other to create elaborate knots. He squirmed, slightly disturbed to find that the man had already manoeuvred himself into trapping him where he was with toned thighs on either side of his hips.
"Exactly what is it you are doing now Dayne?"
"I would imagine that would be obvious, however if you really do require an explanation…I am tying you to the bed"
Zevran frowned and tested the bindings. Dayne had used the torn hangings, twisting them into a convenient rope while the Antivan had been climax dazed. It held him securely…clearly the man didn't just tie people up just for fun, there was an air of professionalism about those knots. For a fleeting moment he considered the possibility that Dayne had meant to kill him al along. He was after all naked, tied to a bed and minus his weapons….it must have been a Tuesday.
"Amusing. None the less what are you…"
The other elf sighed and readjusted his stretched pose so that they were face to face, his hands pressing down into the bedding either side of the Crow's head. "What I am doing is tying you up in preparation of once again turning you into a twitchy little fledgling crow. When I once more have you writhing to the point of screaming I intend to ride you into the sheets. In short Zevran, I intend to return the favour…after a fashion. Now do you have any further questions or am I required to draw you a diagram?"
Zevran opened his mouth to rebuke the 'fledgling' comment but that little voice who never really knew when to shut up stole his lips instead, "I am guessing in this case my mouth will not be sufficient Hmmmm?"
Lips and teeth found his collarbone and followed its prominent edge, "Hush now, I think in the end you will be the one to make that decision" His soft murmur was almost lost in the warm curve of the Antivans throat and it became all too easy to relax under the attentions that bordered on a worship of his body. Hands moved in lingering touches over every part of his tanned frame, moulding over curves and caressing nerve endings alive with ghostlike touches over muscles that began to quiver at the random explorations. Nipples were once again coaxed to stiffen between soft insistent lips and quick tongue, unremitting until Zevran began to squirm while making small noises in the back of his throat. Every inch of his skin was explored and tasted, the pale elf's soft intensity never wavering only ever gently building.
By the time that clever tongue found its way to the crease between hip and thigh, Zevran was already twisting his hands in the makeshift rope, only stopping when moist head found the delicate hanging flesh below his rigid cock and forced his body to dance when the elf began to tenderly suckle first one soft sphere of flesh then the other. It was terribly intimate and the vulnerability of it might have made him cringe if it didn't feel so damn good. He was rolled around in Daynes mouth until his feet lifted to plant on shoulders in an effort to push the man away before he ended up tearing holes in the sheet with his teeth.
The slow torture stopped only for another to begin, Dayne apparently none too sympathetic with his plight, likely enjoying himself far too much than was good for the Antivan. Zevran was once more reaching the stage where there was very little inhibition left. He had little to begin with and though he usually bore a familiar strutting dominance in the bedroom, every now and then somebody would come along that reminded him that he still had a lot to learn.
Hands fell to his rear and he felt himself being spread, crying out in shock as the tip of the pale elf's tongue found the revealed opening in tantalizing flickers that made hundreds of nerve endings sing. Zevran lifted his legs, spreading them as wide as his position could allow in acceptance of this new tactic, it was impossible to not want more when that quick wetness danced over puckered muscle so daintily. No matter how much Zevran tried to tilt his hips in order to follow that fleeting tongue when it darted away, Dayne kept it maddeningly out of reach, doing just enough to make him twitch and groan helplessly.
Only when he whimpered and tried to twist himself double in a try for more pressure did his torturer deign to press the squirming tip to the loosening hole, pushing and coaxing until the tight ring gave way enough for the agile muscle to flicker maddeningly at hot walls. Zevran writhed against the invasion, desperate for further penetration as that diabolical tongue only seemed to push the itch deeper. His cock was a livid exclamation nestled against his hip, the soft skin there slick with his own leaking desire. He didn't have the freedom to even grasp himself and perhaps finish it and save himself the embarrassment of having to ask for what was rapidly becoming a desperate need.
The cruel tongue began a slow back and forth motion, sliding in and out of the relaxed opening with all casual leisure that threatened to linger for as long as it was required. All it did was encourage the desire for more, it just wasn't enough, and yet it was just enough to compound the thirst for something deeper. He knew what Dayne wanted. Just as he knew he would probably regret doing it hours later until eventually it became another one of his great adventures.
With a feral snarl he twisted his body, enough slack on the rope for him to turn on his belly, raising up on his knees. It hadn't been Zevran's plan to actually end up presenting the man to himself, but it had been underlined fairly early on that what Zevran had planned meant precisely dick right now. He was desperate enough to want it and arrogant enough in his own way to temporarily look past his own vulnerability if it meant that deepening itch was taken care of. Keeping his cheek pressed to the bed he lifted his hips, thighs parting enough that he didn't really need to be spread open to be revealed to Daynes eyes. If he was to be damned then he would make sure every second was worth it.
"Please" The word stuck in his throat the first time and to his dim horror he felt a heat reach his cheeks that would show even under his richly tanned skin. He knew the other would see and might have sworn if he weren't so busy making as appealing a show as possible. He shuddered and bit into the blankets as the solid heat of Daynes cock finally settled against the crease between cheeks, fingertips resting lightly on up tilted hips.
"So polite now" Hips rocked back and forth, pulsing flesh rasping over sensitive nerves. He jerked when the cool trickle of oil dribbled between them, pooling around the puckered flesh until it was rubbed in efficiently by those slow undulations, coating them until the oil warmed between their flesh. Dayne was very thorough here, likely overly so given his unhurried movements.
Again he growled, his own body following the slick friction, impatient to be impaled. "Please…Dayne…."
The pale elf leaned over his back, chest pressing into shoulders as mouth bent to ear, a soft rush of clean scented hair falling about them both like a dry river. Dayne's voice held an edge to it now, and it reached inside Zevran tugging at primal parts of his brain as it hissed like slow, sweet poison in his ear.
"Say it Zevran. Say it or I'll happily rut against you until I spill over your backside before leaving you here naked, tied and still wanting, id forgo the pleasure of fucking you just for the picture on the guards faces when they find you in the morning"
There just wasn't any ignoring that voice when it gave him the key to the only thing he wanted right now, so close but for the right angle, just a single dip of hip and a push... Dayne made matters worse by directing the flushed tip to rub at the needy opening and Zevran's eyes closed with a half sob.
"You wicked man!...Please Dayne…do not leave me like this. It is unbearable…i…I want to feel you pushing inside!"
It wasn't the words that brought the dismaying flush again, Zevran wasn't the type for dirty talk to make him hide his eyes bashfully. It was picturing that satisfied grin on those pale lips as he felt the pressure behind him increase, threatening to push past tight muscle, Zevran biting down harder on his lip now…..so close.
And then it stopped. "If you desire it so badly Zevran….take it yourself"
He considered refusing, a thought that stayed in his head for all but 4 seconds before he felt the man twitch against him and pretty much all dignity went out the window at this point as he closed his eyes, breath coming in shallow sweeps as pushed back, working his hips in a circular motion to break that seal and find the infernal itch that he dearly wished to scratch and scratch and scratch until he was raw. He was encouraged by the man still bent at his back, his ears bitten and suckled, soft words on a rush of warm air coaxing, teasing and egging on the fitful jerks of that tanned body when that hard fought for pressure was finally rewarded, his body stretching enough to admit half of him. Zevran stilled, panting hard while he adjusted….Maker in the few moments of tight struggle he had forgotten how hot the man felt, knowing full well that the fever of his own body would now be clenching around Dayne.
Dark hair slid down his back as the pale elf straightened up and placed hands on hips, fingertips stroking whereas no other part of the man moved. For a fleeting moment Zevran thought the man was finally going to grasp him and end this, but the expectant silence that followed showed Zevran otherwise and now his body had relaxed from that initial tight moment, the itch had arisen again and the Antivan knew what he had to do. His body was observed with the utmost reverence when he began to move, though he would be unable to see for the moment, those violet eyes were drinking in every play of sinew and muscle as the Crow slowly worked himself back, the last couple of inches taken quickly with a strangled gasp. He did it again, pulling away, spots dancing in front of his eyes as the slow drag made him shake, then back in, the last few heated inches slammed back into his body with a cry.
Once he had started he couldn't stop, and the gentle, careful movements began to increase in both speed and force, the desired spot not quite hit hard enough. In fact even as the Antivan rutted against his partner, he knew that alone scratching this itch just wouldn't happen. Still he tried, now bucking fiercely against the body behind him, but still he needed more, he needed…..
"Ah!...yes, please….again"
Hands had finally grasped him tighter and he was suddenly filled, the impact bruising over that swollen lump of flesh, making him almost scream in triumph and relief. He turned his head, straining to look over his shoulder, and the wolf's grin that came back at him made him tighten around the thick flesh until he fancied he could feel the man's pulse. Dayne kneeling behind him, every pale muscle stretched towards that part of him that was singing for more, every nerve ending screaming for more friction while this pale apparition loomed over his form like a white incubus.
But Dayne was still again and the unconquered potential in those moments were agony, so close to what he wanted yet nowhere near. Hands held him so tightly that even he couldn't do much more but writhe and stir the man within him. Caught up in his struggle, he was entirely unprepared for the sudden withdrawal, another snap of pale hips driving the man back in deep, stilling to watch Zevran buck and squirm against the strike while he half sobbed into the bedclothes.
On and on it went, each thrust finding that spot and finding it with a bruising force, but the pace never allowed for the build up to ever get beyond maddening need and pretty soon Zevran was a mess, his dignity left somewhere along with his armor on the floor. He was now simply hot flesh and screaming nerve endings. His body shook beneath its slick sheen of sweat and he sounded lost amongst his own whimpers and pleading words.
"Please…..i cannot….please…te suplico!...no more teasing….do it…fu…"
He didn't get to finish. Whether the man had decided that Zevran had pleaded enough, or he had simply reached the end of his own rope, a tightening of hands at hips following a series of brutal thrusts signalled that the game was over. The world was now filled with only hard breath and the harsh sound of bodies meeting fiercely. Dayne was taking him at his word and well…taking him finally. His cock was no longer drawn back in that slow, agonising tease but mercilessly driven forward into tight heat, the head continuously bruising over the engorged flesh.
Once this barrier was broken there was no holding back, Dayne had no teasing left in him, only that same driving need that had him take to the prone, bronzed body with a vengeance. Zevran felt every inch, every twitch and met every thrust with his own in a desire to screw himself as firmly as possibly against this most wonderfully intense of invasions. The pale man's own uncontrolled sounds mingled with his and dimly the bronzed elf felt the satisfaction. Any sound from his own lips was incoherent now and simply a reaction to his body finally being given what it wanted.
The rapid knocking on the door was not expected nor was it welcome.
Dayne carried on regardless, Zevran now aware they could be heard and unable to stop himself. When a hand slid beneath him and took up the abandoned length that lay in a slickened line at his belly, Zevran screamed for him again. The pace increased and the knocks grew louder until his body seemed to take off without him. Rutting himself desperately to that final glorious moment, the Antivan came violently, almost painfully, with hoarse exclamations hurled to the air.
He dimly felt the man withdraw from him, leaving his body twitching with spasms. The sensation of liquid heat at the small of his back, the flurried knocking that seemed unimportant right now next to the golden glow that sank into his tired body.
It wasn't until he heard "I'll be there in a moment", and a cessation of the knocking, that Zevran opened his eyes, the room hard to focus on. In the half a minute or so since he had slipped free of his own mind and allowed it to float away on its own cloud of endorphins, Dayne had begun to dress and the first alarm bells began to ring quietly as he watched the tunic being pulled into place.
"What are…?"
"Alas, the sand in the hourglass has run out my dear fledgling…duty waits. With impatience it seems" He eyed the door and smiled ruefully. "Had I more time…." A sigh "It was a pleasure to have met you Arainai"
Eyes narrowed and the Antivan was now getting to his knees, pulling on the twisted, knotted ties, "Will you not at least…"
That pale, blade like smile had returned and Zevran saw the answer there before the man answered, "No…I think perhaps I prefer you in this manner….you'll have…oh lets say an hour before the maids are due"
He watched open mouthed as Dayne kicked one of his smaller daggers closer to the bed where it re It feels like you guys don't trust me as an adult to not make Pink style stupid , a foot away.
He then turned and strode to the door, opening it enough to have a conversation that the currently helpless Crow could hear clearly.
"My apologies milady, had I known it was you…."
"I grew bored waiting on the ship…are you done yet?" That voice, cultured and pleasant, stilled Zevran's body from its frustrated tugging at the ties;
"You grew….Madame there are assassins after you" Daynes voice carried both impatience and amusement in equal measure. "I didn't make such a meticulous plan for you to scuttle on back through Antiva to come find me again"
He heard the light and dignified amusement in the woman's voice now "I know full well about your 'meticulous plan' Alveras…no doubt my assassin is indisposed at the moment so I have little to fear from. Now come along before the ship decides to leave without us"
Dayne turned and took a good look at the Antivan, like a man admiring a painting he'd just finished.
"Beautiful…."
Without another word he was gone and the Crow was alone, bound, slick with sweat and fluids and probably about to feel every ache and bite once the afterglow wore off. Anger and that old friend pride would come eventually but for now all the Antivan could do was laugh until it hurt.
Outside the door, the count paused with a perplexed expression, and then he quickly left, deciding it was best not to find out.