Cats on the Prowl
*Author's note: This started off rather light and fluffy and is getting naughtier and smuttier with each subsequent instalment. Personally, I blame Zevran's bad influence...*
Chapter 1: Fireside Chats
"Why so preoccupied, sweet Catalina?" Zevran's deep rich voice tore her out of her musings.
Cat hadn't noticed him come over to her tent, but then she knew he was a master at stealth. Usually she hated her full name. She could still hear her mother's strident tones in the back of her head, scolding her for some real or imagined offense. Catherine Elizabeth Cousland! She'd insisted the others call her just Cat. The nickname suited her, went well with her green eyes and her graceful gait. But the way Zev pronounced her name in his strong Antivan accent rather pleased her.
She had been thinking about him, as a matter of fact. It had been several weeks now since he'd joined their group, and he'd proven himself loyal and useful far beyond her expectations. His unwavering good cheer and uncomplicated companionship had slowly endeared him to all but the ever-wary Morrigan.
Lately he had begun teaching her how to use a second weapon. He'd approved of her swordsmanship, her quick, lethal strikes. When he suggested she use a dagger in her left hand, she had immediately realized that this would make her a far greater danger in battle. She enjoyed the practice sessions too, his soft chuckles when she proved too clumsy for a complicated manoeuvre, his gentle hands correcting her grip on the hilt of the dagger.
He was ever considerate of her, saving her a particularly tasty morsel of food, cleaning her weapons for her at night when she was too tired, even offering her a brief massage when she was feeling the strain of their battles. She shivered briefly, recalling the feel of his warm hands on her shoulders.
"I wonder, are you trying to seduce me?" His head jerked up, then he laughed softly. Oh Maker, had she just said this aloud?
"And what would make you think that, cara mia?" he asked, his amusement plainly visible in the soft creases around his golden eyes.
She shrugged, embarrassed. "Just the way you've been looking at me lately, all those small favours and kindnesses, I don't know..." her voice trailed off.
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "But that was no more than the attentiveness due to any woman as beautiful as you, don't you think?"
She snorted, put off by this obvious bit of flattery. "I'm hardly beautiful!" she snarled.
He seemed genuinely taken aback by her answer. "And is that what they told you, those noble whelps you grew up with?" he growled. He'd noticed for some time that the local aristocracy seemed to have a rather limited idea of what constituted female beauty. She certainly didn't match the picture of the blushing pink "Fereldan rose", with her red hair, pale skin and the small dusting of freckles on her face. But how could they be blind to those eyes, those full lips, the graceful, lithe body? Zevran sighed. Alistair, too was completely oblivious to her charms, treating her like a younger sister, while every blonde buxom serving wench would cause him to blush and tremble.
He shook his head and gently took her hand. "Trust me, my sweet, I have enjoyed the... company of some of the most beautiful women in Thedas, and you have no reason whatsoever to worry about your looks." She blushed briefly, clearly not convinced. "Anyway, as for your allegation..." he added, his eyes firmly locked on her, casually stroking her palm with his thumb before raising her hand to his face and breathing a feather-light kiss on her wrist. She gasped, her eyes widening and he softly cupped her face with his other hand, a hint of triumph in his smile. "Would you like me to... seduce you?"
Cat swallowed, for once unsure of what to say. The touch of his lips had been so soft as to go almost unnoticed and yet, she had felt a spark travel from her hand straight down to her crotch. Her heart almost missed a beat as his thumb ghosted over her trembling lip, and she had to suppress a violent urge to catch his finger with her lips, to kiss it, to suck hard on it.
Zevran watched the way her eyes suddenly darkened with desire, the expressions warring on her face, and he laughed softly. "Aaaaah, but you are still so very young, and so innocent," he muttered, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. "Perhaps it's better if you take your time thinking about your answer, no?" And with those words he rose and slowly walked over to his tent, leaving her shivering despite the warmth of the fire.
"Has he been bothering you?" Alistair sat down next to her, his arm wrapped around her shoulder, sounding belligerent and ready to defend her.
She had to suppress a smile. He reminded her so much of Fergus, her big brother. Fergus had been just like him, teasing her for much of the time, but fiercely protective of his kid sister. They even had the same open guileless expression, the same goofy sense of humour. "No, I'm fine," she replied, following Zevran with her eyes, admiring his easy grace, as he ducked into his tent. "I just have a lot to think about."