"Nyla. Nyla." Zevran rode close to her. "Would you like to hear a joke about my dick?" Her brow furrowed, eyes flicked toward him, and head slowly turned. "Never mind, it is too long."

She grinned, falling into raucous laughter. The snorting began, and she took several minutes to pull her shit together.

"Zev…" she interrupted herself with uncontrollable giggles as she tried to speak, and Zevran knew she had a good one; he smiled in anticipation. "Would you like to hear a joke about my pussy?"

He blinked at her in surprise, a little aroused as she purred it in her Noble, Ferelden accent.

"Never mind," she sighed and waved her hand dismissively, "you won't get it."

"Oooh!" He cackled and leaned forward as if he had been dealt a serious blow. "Oooh! As if Nyla could say no to me!"

"I have said no. Several times."

"Amor, using your mouth instead is not exactly a no."

"Ah." She bit her lip with a bashful smile. "Is that a challenge?"

"No," he asserted with a pointed finger. "Rest assured, Zevran is not posing any challenges. Nyla, why would I do that?"

"Just checking." Another bout of cackling, snorty laughter tickled through her, "It's too long!"

"How is your new armor, amor?"

"Armor, amor." Nyla snorted a few times with a wide smile.

"Armor, amor," Zevran repeated, equally entertained. "Saying this several times fast would fuck with Zevran."

"Do it," she challenged playfully.

"I do not wish to be fucked with." He furrowed his brow at her. "You do it."

Nyla cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and raised a hand in preparation, "No."

Zevran swatted at her with a loud cackle. " Shit, amor, tell me how your new fucking armor feels."

"Light as a feather. Like Spirits of Compassion are massaging my ass as I ride this horse." She sighed dreamily.

Zevran looked at her and smiled, quirking an eyebrow at her. "Nyla is stuck in bullshit mode. Feet in the stirrups."

With another deep sigh, she slipped her feet in the stirrups. "It's very good. Lightweight, less stifling than the Warden armor, and the... face-cover thing-"

"Veil, amor."

"Yes. It's not stifling, as I had imagined it would be." Nyla tucked the veil beneath the hood and behind her ear. Eyes uncovered and face mostly hidden, the veil whispered against her skin in the subtle breeze.

"It suits you," Zevran wished he could kiss her hidden mouth. "Beautiful. Intimidating."

Approaching the stables near the Mage's College, Nyla had only a vague recollection of this place, despite what had transpired there only a few months ago. Back when she was fragmented and lost, a mass of pain gone neglected for far too long. So much repression, needs and desires ignored for the sake of further steeping herself into a life of pain; Nyla shuddered at the memory. Simply holding hands, her only clear memory from that time, was as nourishing as food to her.

Zevran caught her as she slid down from her horse, holding onto her waist for a few moments to gaze into her eyes; accented, beautiful and mysterious when contrasted with the darkness of her veil. "Okay, amor?"

"With you by my side, I can face anything," she whispered; a gloved hand stroked his jaw briefly.

He moved on, Nyla strolling alongside him. "It will be good to see Wynne. I like her very much. She is a lot like you, you know."

"Like me?" She squinted at him. "Bullshit."

"Similar thinking, similar humor, although, Wynne has less of an affinity for dick jokes." Satisfied in hearing snorty laughter from behind her veil, he smirked and bit his lip in beholding her smiling eyes.

"And approximately how many dick jokes have you told Wynne?"

"A fair few," he spoke honestly. "She is far more fun than you gave her credit."

"You really don't find her to be an insufferable pain in the ass?"

"Sometimes," he shrugged. "Just like you."

Shaking her head with a tsk , she elbowed him playfully. "Bullshit. I have never done a single wrong thing in my entire life," Nyla muttered as they walked across the cobblestone courtyard. "Maker's breath, are we in the right place? None of this shit looks familiar."

In one swift movement, he scooped her up to cradle her in his arms. "Now it looks familiar, amor?"

Nyla sighed and went limp, looking up at him with a furrowed brow. "Zevran."

He smiled down at her, remembering what this was like the first time; her gentle touch on his cheek as she blinked to wakefulness. How far they had come, how quickly their love had blossomed.

Eyes flicking around, Nyla looked at the early morning sky; in her periphery, elaborate archways decorated with flamboyant, marble tracery. "I remember." She raised a hand to cup his jaw and her thumb traced a lazy line along his lower lip. Leaning affectionately into her touch, Zevran's eyes, once tired and sad, looked younger.

"Zevran?" A familiar voice called out and the click of heeled boots rapidly approached them. A wash of healing flowed through Nyla; every last ache dissipated, the burning of the cut on her hand ceased.

"Shit, it's Wynne, and I feel so much better," Nyla said; elated, confused, and defeated. "Don't put me down, I will nap while you handle this." Zevran snorted and put her down, and for the first time in a week Nyla could move with ease. "Holy shit, Zevran. I forgot what it was like to not ache everywhere by virtue of simply existing. Maker's breath, I love mages."

"Maker's breath, is that Nyla? What have you gotten yourself into? Poor dear. Let me look at that armor. Very nice. New weapons? Grew out of those swords you called daggers, hmm? The hood and veil suits you. Very pretty. Zevran designed this for you, didn't he?"

"Of course." Zevran smiled proudly. "Although, she said no cape. A shame." He leaned toward Wynne to kiss her cheek. "Hi, Wynne."

"So good to see you both, you look like quite the pair. I'm glad you're here. It does my heart good to see you so well."

"We had something we needed to talk about," Nyla began, and Wynne turned and walked away. "¡Esta mujer me saca de quicio!" Fuck! Everything this woman does just irritates me!

Following Wynne around the perimeter surrounded by elaborate stilted archways, Nyla couldn't believe she had such vague memory of something so beautiful. Through the main courtyard of the Mages College, past a large fountain circled by outward-facing stone mabari, through a tunnel of vine trellises, Nyla gasped. "Arbor Blessing?"

"Yes, dear. You would be surprised what mages can do when they're allowed to focus on their talents largely uninhibited."

Nyla looked toward Zevran who surveyed everything around them with interest. Hallways became more simple and warm as they neared Wynne's quarters; it looked like a home to Nyla, and she wondered if there were some way she could find Anders again and smuggle him there.

"Your window is fixed," Nyla spoke softly as they entered the room, her face feeling hot. The memory of her own desperate wails echoed in her ears, Zevran's arms warm around her as she wept in a much-needed catharsis.

Nyla looked at him, he looked back at her, and their thoughts were the same. Softness and adoration reverberated between them and he reached toward her. With a practiced swirl of her hand, her arm swishing over her head, Nyla removed her veil and hood. "Te amo," she whispered, standing close to him.

"Te amo." He whispered, his hand rested on her cheek, "¿Te encuentras bien, mi amore?" Are you all right?

"Eras muy bueno conmigo." You were so good to me. Hand lifting slowly, she rested it on his. "¿Te encuentras bien?" Are you all right?

"Si." He smirked, wanting to pull her tight against him, instead taking her hand and sitting next to her on the couch they occupied months ago. The morning after the storm; a breakfast of fulfilling fruits, and a fight that had Nyla almost coldcock an old woman.

"Interesting development between you two," Wynne spoke as she prepared tea.

"Yes, Wynne. Tonight we are-"

Nyla rested a hand on his leg and met his eyes with a shake of her head.

"It is just Wynne." Zevran cocked an eyebrow, gesturing toward the old mage with an open hand.

"Don't."

"I want to tell someone, amor. I am excited. Are you not excited?" He smirked with an innocent gaze.

"You know I am, just not excited to tell her. " Nyla rolled her eyes at herself; he was doing the thing with his eyes, manipulating her, and Nyla knew she would fall for it. "Dammit, Zevran."

"Children, please," Wynne interjected with a chuckle.

"Nyla, you are being hard on her."

Nyla sighed, finally cracking beneath the weight of his pout, "All right, darling. Go ahead."

He smiled and spoke immediately, "Nyla and I are doing spiritual union this afternoon."

"Oh. That is a much bigger development than I had expected." Wynne stared at them for several moments. "Are you sure? Do you know what you are getting yourself into? It's only been, three months or so since-"

"There she goes," Nyla spoke with an annoyed sigh. "You know, every relationship I have ever been in has been subjected to her sage advice. All two of them."

Zevran laughed, "Now I am going to marry her even harder."

"That's the spirit. Hold onto that." Wynne smiled and placed tea in front of them. Wynne surveyed Nyla for a few moments before speaking. "Nyla, what happened to you?"

Zevran spoke, his hand resting on the small of Nyla's back. "Crow poison. I think perhaps made from spider venom."

"Oh, that... " Wynne thought for a moment. "Did it feel as though you were being pulled apart? I have something that can help."

"I don't remember clearly," Nyla spoke with a smile. "There was a lot of… muscles tightening. Much like, all of my bones trying to break, perhaps. I'm all right now. No need."

Zevran scrubbed his face in memory of sleepless nights, holding her close and speaking soothing words in response to her trembling voice. Zev, I'm afraid. Helpless.

"You're not completely alright. It's still there," Wynne spoke absently while sifting through a cupboard. "Eat the leaf when it's wet enough to fall apart on your tongue. You will want to be in peak health if you're going to do a handfasting this evening." Wynne smiled as she crushed a leaf in her fist and dropped it into Nyla's tea. "You really don't know what you're getting into, do you?"

"Does anyone ever?" Zevran watched Nyla closely as she sipped her tea; she looked calm, but it was the calm seen in someone whose patience is being tested. "We need to speak with you about something."

"Yes, but… all right, I'll let it go, before someone breaks a window." Wynne looked pointedly at Nyla with a smirk.

"Bitch," Nyla responded with a chuckle and a snort. "Sorry about that. The window, I mean."

"It's fine, dear. Nothing a little magic couldn't handle." Waving her hand dismissively with a smile, she resumed with seriousness. "Oh, Morrigan was here looking for you."

"The fuck does she want?" Nyla blurted before she could stop herself.

"Why would she come to you?" Zevran added.

"Has she been looking for us in a lot of places or did she just know we were coming here?" Nyla poked the leaf in her cup and then drank it. "She's always got some bullshit to pull, this makes me uneasy."

"She's not so bad." Zevran shrugged. "Except that one time. That was bad."

"I'll say," Nyla muttered. "Maker's breath that was disgusting." She put the cup down, bitter leaf on her tongue.

Zevran watched her closely. "Does it feel better?"

"I didn't feel bad to begin with," she shrugged, resting a hand on his knee. Warmth and relaxation spread through her chest, down to her belly, then into her shoulders. With a sigh, she sat up straighter, more alert. "No. Yes. It feels better."

"What did she want, Wynne?" Zevran laid a hand on Nyla's, able to relax a little more.

"She didn't say exactly." Wynne mused, delighting in witnessing them together. A chorus of disgusted noises came from the couple, hands flying up in exasperation. "Well, she did say she had an important gift."

"Ah, shit. I remember what her important gifts are like." Nyla chuckled, palming her face. "I'll worry about her later, if ever. We came here to ask you something. I know you have spent significant time with the Wardens..." she hesitated, "Do you know anything of the Wardens and their taint?"

"Yes, I know of it," Wynne spoke patiently, attention piqued. "I know what it is. I know there is a joining. I know what it means for you as a Warden, but I know nothing about how the taint got there."

"Zevran and I have taken on trying to find a cure for the taint. Have you heard any accounts of anyone being cured, or anyone seeking a cure?"

"Yes. There is one former Warden I know of, the taint left her somehow. Fiona. Perhaps I could arrange for you to meet with her." Wynne sipped her tea. "When she could no longer be a Warden, she came here. I don't know the whole story, myself, or I would tell you."

Zevran smiled at Nyla, "This is a good lead, no?"

"It's something. The Warden's must have trusted her. I wouldn't have sent her on her way, with all she knows. If we come back tomorrow, could you arrange a meeting with her?"

"Of course." Wynne smiled. "I'd be glad to. You might want to give it two days, honestly, if you are handfasting tonight."

"Yes. Day after tomorrow." Zevran spoke for them. "And we best get going, amor. It is our intended time."

Nyla blushed fiercely and smiled at him with a nod. "Estoy ansiosa y preparada, mi amor." I am eager and ready, my love.

"So sweet, you two. I'm so glad you are happy. Treat each other well while life gives the opportunity, we never know what the Maker has in store for us."

"So…" Nyla looked at her in awe and wonder, "You approve of what we are doing?"

Zevran pointed at Nyla with a chuckle, "I knew Nyla loves Wynne."

Nyla sputtered, leaning away from him, "And how do you extrapolate that from what I said?"

"Starry eyes, look of elation at the mere prospect of her approval."

"Did you have to say it right in front of her?" Nyla narrowed her eyes at him.

"Call it payback for exposing Zevran in front of Fergus."

"Zevran," Nyla tilted her head at him, eyes wide, "that was unintentional."

Cocking his head at her, Zevran flashed his canines. "And Zevran is spiteful, Nyla should know this by now."

"All right, children." Wynne smiled broadly, pleased to see a glimpse of Nyla's affection for her rather than the disappointment normally expressed, "As much as I enjoy hearing a lovers' quarrel, go away."


"Nervous?" Zevran spoke after half an hour of silent walking together. "So much thinking, so little speaking."

Slowing her pace, Nyla met his gaze with hers and a veiled smile. "I figured I would let the nervousness hit me all at once on the threshold. It's just how I do things."

"Sounds much like a joke, but is the truth, amor?" He stopped walking, and she stopped with him. "You are having doubts? It is too soon for such a thing?" Nyla reached up to remove her veil, and his hand moved to stop her. "Stay hidden."

"No, it doesn't feel too soon, love. It feels inevitable." Folding her arms across her chest, she continued softly, "I am not afraid of this. I'm remembering you from years ago when we first met. Always hiding in trees. Confused by concern. I am… impressed, by how much you have grown since then. And now you are getting married."

"To you."

"Zevran." She giggled, tilting her head at him. "I hadn't forgotten that part."

"The dark times in my life you have seen." Zevran's heart felt heavy beneath the weight of the memories. "Never has anyone known me as you do."

"I want to know more." She took his gloved hand in hers and continued with teasing inflections, "I wonder what Zevran will be like as a married man?"

"Shut up, Nyla!" He laughed, wrapping his arms around her with a playfully aggravated groan. "Zevran was not ready to be thinking so far ahead!"

"So far ahead? But isn't this a mere five minutes from -" Nyla's muffled laugh sounded as he pressed her face against his neck.

"No more speaking!" He started walking, withholding laughter. "You are ruining Zevran's wedding day."

"Ruining!" She laughed, pulling off her gloves, tucking them in her belt and reaching out to him; a silent request for him to hold her hand. They strode together in comfortable silence.

In full armor, they walked into the temple, a place as elaborately decorated as the College. It smelled of flowering plants, fountains adorned the courtyard, and it felt comfortably cool; a relief from the stifling heat of outside.

Zevran felt relaxed as he held tight to her hand, his palm against hers. Nyla's nervousness flared, wondering if she should have prepared vows. Despite the coolness of the room, sweat beaded on her upper lip and she swiped it away with the back of her hand.

An elder woman approached them. Dressed in white robes, she introduced herself as the High Priestess, and spoke that she had been expecting them. This intrigued Zevran, and he chuckled at Nyla's apparent unease, her eyes widened and forehead wrinkled; he chuckled, and she relaxed with a bashful smile.

They chose their ribbons; blue for devotion, red for passion, and they were ushered apart, impulsively reaching toward the other with longing gazes. Guided along, they went their separate ways, respectful silence accompanied their journeys.

Nyla's heart fluttered in her chest as they entered a large room made of marble, the walls lined with well-groomed palms, a shallow pool of water in its center. Four women clad in white surrounded Nyla, slowly removing her armor piece by piece until bare. Hair taken down from its braid, her hand held gently, they guided her into the pool richly scented with oils and colored like the sunset. Warm water swirled around her legs as she walked, moving until the water reached mid-thigh.

"Receive," they whispered, and Nyla meditated on their words.

"Surrender." Comforting scents surrounded her, and gentle hands scrubbed her with salts, relaxing the tension in her body.

"You are worthy," each spoke in turn, and the world before her eyes held more color and beauty than she was accustomed.

"Open," they whispered with splayed hands on her collar, and she wanted to; she felt the desire so keenly it reverberated through her and leaked out her eyes, a few sweet tears slid down her cheeks.

They slathered scented oil on her chest, breasts, her belly, her extremities; nudity, purity, it all made sense to Nyla, and her nervousness waned. They had prepared Nyla to bring to her love the only thing she had to offer; herself.

Zevran surveyed the room for danger, ears keen for the call of his woman. Being apart from her didn't feel safe, as the four men assisted apprehensive Zevran, stripping him bare and accompanying him into a pool of blue water.

"Trust." A man spoke to him with a smile, grabbing his shoulder and shaking it in a gesture of camaraderie. "You will not fail her."

Meeting the man's eyes with a curious tilt of his head, Zevran wondered how he could know to say such a thing. Hands all over his body, the roughness of salt scrubbing along his skin, soothed and grounded.

"You have her," the voice spoke again, telling him precisely what he needed to hear. Zevran's lips quivered with the desire to weep as they poured water over him.

"You chose this," another man spoke, tapping Zevran's chest with the tips of four fingers, and Zevran felt fierce in his love for Nyla. He chose this, and he would always choose to have her by his side. They dried him and rubbed him with richly scented oil.

Following the men for the short journey through empty halls, his body lithe and refreshed, feeling alert as they opened a door and stood aside to allow him entry. Unabashedly bare on the opposite side of the room, Nyla stood tall and their eyes met; his heart melted. Esposa.

A small room, sparsely decorated, furs on the floor, embroidered pillows along its walls. One high window let the sun in to shine upon two pillows, on which they were instructed to kneel. As the lovers took their place in the sun, they were handed small cups of tea and instructed to drink it whole. With eyes locked, they took their tea, the sweetness and spice, subtle bitterness of herbs lingered on their tongues. Relaxation followed, so poignant and rich Zevran had no thoughts to question the tea's contents.

Handing off their emptied cups, Nyla took both of his hands in hers with an elated smile. Zevran met her with equal enthusiasm, his hands held tight to hers, sighing with the relief of touch. The wizened, feminine voice of the High Priestess spoke to them.

"With full awareness, you are declaring your intent to form eternal and sacred bonds. The promises made today and the ties bound here greatly strengthen your union and will cross the years and lives of the soul's growth. Do you seek to enter this ceremony?"

"Si," Zevran whispered.

"Yes," Nyla spoke tearfully.

Faces flushed, they kept their eyes on each other. The smooth skin and familiar curve of Nyla's graceful neck rested in his periphery and he wanted so badly to touch her.

"We insist on permanency, on duration, on continuity, when the only continuity possible in life is within love, growth, fluidity, freedom. Zevran and Nyla, will you share in each other's pain and seek to alleviate it?"

"Yes." They spoke as the High Priestess laid a blue cord over their joined hands. Loving gazes flicked between their hands and the eyes of the other.

"Nyla and Zevran, will you share each other's laughter, look for the light within life, and within each other?"

"Yes." They shared a smile, and the blue cord wrapped loosely around their joined hands. Zevran held tighter to her, and it did nothing to temper his trembling.

"Zevran and Nyla, will you share in each other's burdens, so that your spirits may grow in this union?"

"Yes." They spoke together, the red cord laid over their hands. The glint of the familiar, silver band on Zevran's finger caught Nyla's eye, reminding her of her youth, innocence - so long ago.

"Nyla and Zevran, will you take the heat of anger and use it to temper the strength of this union?"

"Yes." They responded as the red cord wrapped around their joined hands. Nyla smiled for him; a gentle smile that shone in her eyes, and he mirrored her.

"Will you honor your other as an equal in this union?" The voice of the High Priestess crooned, drawing their focus.

"Yes," they spoke again.

"Do you wish to exchange vows?"

"Yes," Zevran spoke first. "We found each other, healed together, for each other. While I cannot make you queen, what I offer you is all of myself, undivided. Devoted." He wanted to wipe away her tears, instead, he smiled and basked in her understanding. "I will always have you."

Nyla stared at Zevran with wide eyes, the ache of love and adoration so akin to heartbreak she couldn't help but weep. This moment could have been with Alistair, at a royal wedding. She would have been queen; she and Alistair would have been overburdened, parted and it would have eaten away at her.

Alistair lied to her, betrayed her, broke his promises, loved her deeply and not one moment could be remembered in regret. Alistair's love, his betrayal, his death groomed her to receive what followed, and Nyla could not fathom how something so utterly devastating could lead to something so profoundly beautiful.

As it all dawned as her, complete understanding and acceptance breathed life into her and it felt as if she had been waiting for her entire life to say, "you are all I have ever wanted."

Zevran's eyes fluttered closed for a moment, steeping in feeling wholly accepted for who he was, and for the fourth time, Nyla saw his tears.

Weathered hands tied their ribbons and spoke, "As your hands are bound, so are your spirits in a union of trust and love. Your love is a constant source of light, like the stars, and the earth a firm foundation from which to grow. May your hands have the strength to hang on during the storms and the dark of disillusionment. May they remain tender and gentle as you nurture each other in wondrous love. May these hands be healer, protector, shelter and guide for each other. By the strength of your own love, I pronounce you married."

Watching each other closely, tea cups were whisked away and the door closed, leaving them alone in the room. Leaning into warmth and adoration, their foreheads touched.

"Esposa…" he whispered tearfully, raising their hands closer to his mouth to place gentle kisses on Nyla's long fingers.

"Te amo," Nyla whispered, her hands pulled away, loosely tied ribbons fluttering from their separated fingers.

As she laid back, beckoning him with a breathy moan, his hands followed her long legs, along the soft skin of her belly and breasts, he laid beside her. Oils soaked into skin made their bodies feel like silk against silk, and she curled into him, one leg draped over his hip, her hand rested over his heart.

Arms around him soothed a lifetime of disingenuous touches, body used for utility and occasional selfish pleasures, nothing had ever felt so pure as this moment. Wife. Esposa. Overwhelmed by his efforts to express his feelings had always been the norm, and he felt unburdened to try as her lips met his jaw and his neck, whispering sweetness to soothe his aches.

Crows, including his past self, would call him weak, yet with this woman, Zevran felt more empowered than in all of his life. He had been groomed to be a wicked man, and Nyla had been the wind that carried the awakening of his dormant places; everything she had offered was precious to him, and now she had given herself, the most precious of offerings . This was perfect, and he celebrated it all as strongly as he ached.

"Esto es perfecto, Zevran." This is perfect. Nyla felt her heart breaking for him, beholding his soft stare laced with pain and awe. "Soy tuya." I am yours. She simply wanted him to have everything; his pain, his love, joy, awe, his childlike and playful ways of being.

"We chose this," Zevran whispered, and Nyla smiled and nodded with a tearful gaze.

His heart and mind grappling with the word wife, Zevran brushed fingertips across her forehead, along her cheek and her jaw, the elegant curve of her neck, across her chest to lay on her heart. Beautiful, to make explicit his devotion when he already had devoted himself so many years ago. As if hearing his thoughts, she spoke soothing words to him.

"I know, Zevran," she whispered with a smile, leaning in to kiss away his tears. "Lo sé," I know she whispered again, pulling him snug against her, breasts pressing against his chest, long leg drawing him closer.

"What do you know, esposa?" He questioned her softly, lost within a tumult of emotion and a need to hear her.

"I know this hurts," she crooned, resting her hand on his cheek. "I know you have gained more than you ever saw possible, or ever felt you deserved. I see you aching over what could have been, and what may come. Never have you been so happy, and never have you ever had so much to lose."

He held her tight, his forehead meeting hers as he wept. "How do you know this?"

"Because we are the same."

Lips met for the sweetest and most satisfying of kisses as their most implicit expression of love wanted to come forward. Desire which had carried them into territories they met unprepared; how fortunate, that their resolve had been so weak and their attraction so strong.

Zevran's breathy groan breezed past her ear making her belly flutter and eyes close as she moved to take him inside of her; he caressed her thigh, still draped over his hip. A hand on her cheek piqued her attention, and Nyla met Zevran's soft gaze.

"Quédate conmigo." Stay with me, Zevran crooned with a gentle roll of his hips.

"Siempre." Always. Nyla's moan was cut off by a kiss, and their bodies met with languid slowness. Whimpering into each other's mouths, Nyla pressed on his shoulder with a gentle hand to encourage him to lay on his back; he did, resting on his elbows to be closer to her.

Zevran groaned as he watched her rise and fall slowly, their eyes locked, her hands wandered his chest and stomach. Long fingers lovingly traced tattoos on a form so familiar she didn't have to look to know their placement.

Surprised to see such a contented and adoring smile on her beloved's face, Nyla mirrored him. Zevran laid still, relaxed, cheeks flushed, sweat beaded on his temples, and his head tilted back with intermittent satisfied groans and sighs. His eyes remained on hers, watching her with curiosity and sweet lust.

She kissed him, caressed him, giving and taking at her leisure, and Zevran relaxed into surrender. Their aches dissolved, leaving only love and pleasure in its wake.