Alistair's breathing had evened out to the point that Zevran had begun to wonder if the man had fallen asleep before he finally stirred again, rolling over on his side to lean over Zevran, studying him, a slight smile playing around his lips. He reached out and touched one fingertip to the tattoo on Zevran's cheek, tracing it lightly along the curving lines.
"It still doesn't feel real that you're here," he said, then bent his head enough to brush his lips over Zevran's. "Why are you here?" he asked after raising his head again, sounding slightly puzzled. His hand, meanwhile, continued slowly downwards, tracing down the side of Zevran's neck, then lazily circling the dip at the front of the elf's throat. His eyes dropped away from Zevran's, watching the movement of his own hand, an absorbed expression on his face. "Here in Ansburg, I mean, not here in my bed."
"Random chance," Zevran said quietly, shrugging slightly, watching the Alistair's face. "I travel a lot; even if the Crows by and large avoid me now, it is better for me not to stay in any one place too long. There is always some young idiot who believes that he will be the one to kill me, and thereby make a name for himself. I get tired of killing them. Or of seeing them kill people who they believe are my friends," he added, frowning. "As if making me angry will make me less capable of killing them. A foolish and ultimately lethal belief."
Alistair's eyes flicked back to his face for a moment. "Does that happen often?" he asked, voice showing only curiosity, no fear. His hand, meanwhile, began to find its way down Zevran's front. Alistair dipped his head again, to lick at the hollow his fingers had been circling.
Zevran hummed and tilted his head back, giving the man better access to his throat. "Not very often; I only rarely make an effort to befriend anyone. But even once is too often," he said darkly, and let his eyes drift shut, concentrating on the feeling of Alistair's mouth on his neck, of the hand drifting slowly down his front.
Alistair's other hand squeezed his upper arm, the warrior's arm tightening around Zevran's shoulders for a moment. Alistair ducked his head further, mouth leaving his throat, forehead pressing warmly against the side of his neck. Zevran could feel his eyelashes, a ticklish sensation against the skin of his shoulder. "I hate losing friends," Alistair said quietly, still except for the one hand drifting further south. He spread it out flat on Zevran's stomach, fingertips rubbing in small circles, palm pressing against the elf's navel. After a long moment of silence he lifted it head again, kissed the dip he'd been licking at, then slowly began to work his way out along Zevran's collarbone, pressing kisses along it. His hand resumed its downward path, finally reaching Zevran's cock – still partially erect – and curled around it.
Zevran sucked in a deep breath through his nose, body tensing as Alistair's hand tightened and pulled, then released and slid down, gently but firmly, over and over again. The warrior lifted his head from where he'd reached the end of the elf's collarbone. "Remember to let me know if you're too close," he said, then lowered his head, and licked from Zevran's shoulder back along his shoulder, returning to the dip in his throat. He started working his way down Zevran's body then, little kisses and licks, until he reached a nipple, then stopped there for a while, licking it repeatedly, broad licks at first, then tonguing at the nipple as it firmed up. All the while his hand was still slowly stroking up and down Zevran's erection, bringing it back to aching fulness.
Zevran's hands tightened on the sheets, and he moaned as Alistair changed sides, and began licking at the other nipple. Alistair slipped his arm out from behind Zevran's back, and toyed with the first one, rubbing it with his calloused fingertips, then tweaking it between them even as he bit down lightly on the other, drawing a loud gasp from Zevran, his back arching at the twinned sensations.
Alistair chuckled softly, then moved his hand to rest in the middle of Zevran's chest, chin resting on the back of it as he looked up at the elf's face, his other hand dipping further back between Zevran's legs to caress and fondle his balls. "You don't know how many times I've dreamed of you in my bed," he said, voice husky.
Zevran lifted his head and peered down at him. "Oh?" he asked. "From your talking of fulfilling every fantasy you've ever had of me in your bed, I admit that I did get the impression that you'd thought of me at least a time or two since leaving Ferelden."
Alistair grinned. "Since even before leaving Ferelden, actually," he said, and dipped his hand further back, to press at the sensitive area between Zevran's balls and rump, drawing another hissing gasp from the elf. "You and Aedan..." he broke off, and shook his head slightly, smiling ruefully at the elf. "The pair of you were often loud. Intriguingly so at times, as I mentioned earlier. I'd had more than a few heated dreams with you in them before I left. Of course back then I was... confused. Repressed. I hadn't a clue what I really wanted. Oh, I knew the concepts, had some vague ideas of what was involved, some idea of what it might feel like..." he broke off, cheeks definitely colouring.
Zevran grinned. "Why Alistair," he gasped out breathlessly as the warrior's hand returned to his erection, stroking it firmly again. "I thought you said you didn't blush any more?"
Alistair laughed again, easily, unselfconsciously. "I guess I was wrong," he said, and moved his hand aside, lowering his head to kiss Zevran's chest. "Or maybe it's just you. You and the memory of how damned flustered you used to be able to make me with just a few well-chosen words or a meaningful look."
Zevran grinned, then gasped and arched upwards, as Alistair stroked his thumb firmly over the tip of Zervan's cock, an area he's been neglecting so far. "Alistair...!" Zevran exclaimed, voice ragged, as he closed his eyes, letting his head drop back to the bed again
Alistair snatched his hand away, watching Zevran's face with a faintly worried look as the elf shuddered and cried out, entire body going rigid. "That was a strong one," he observed quietly as the elf finally went slack again. "Feel good?"
Zevran gave a short laugh. "Yes. Exquisite," he gasped out, eyes opening again. "Who taught you how to cause dry orgasms? This Captain Ethan you have spoken of?"
Alistair smiled, crookedly. "Yes. He gave me a very thorough education, on quite a few subjects."
Zevran smiled widely. "Kissing?"
"Started with that, yes. Moved on to other things pretty quickly. Then he realized just how much I didn't know, and amused himself for quite some time with teaching me everything he knew. In bed and out of it."
Zevran nodded. He lifted his head, and looked down at Alistair. "You cared for him, very much, didn't you?" he asked quietly, one hand rising to stroke Alistair's hair, smoothing it back from his face.
"Yes," Alistair said, very quietly. "I don't know if I was actually in love with him... I was such a mess when he first took me in, and then pretty much dependant on him for a long time. I don't think what we had then could be called love. Need, yes. At least on my side of things. I was only just really finding my feet and taking control of my life again when he was killed. If he'd lived... I don't know. I cared for him. I believe he cared for me. But..." he shrugged, then fell silent. His hand, resting on Zevran's thigh while they spoke, crept back over to Zevran's cock and began slowly stroking it again, drawing a gasp and an expletive from the assassin. Alistair grinned. "But enough of my past. Right now I just want to think of my future. Very short term future. The next five or ten minutes, perhaps."
Zevran laughed, softly. "And what do you foresee in this future, oh seer?"
Alistair laughed, then suddenly released Zevran and rolled off him, all but bouncing to his feet. "I have a couple of ideas. Give me a minute to make up my mind," he said, as he walked over to a nearby cabinet and opened it, taking out a wide-mouthed ceramic jar. "We'll be needing this, in any case," he added, and turned to walk back over to the bed.
Zevran had levered himself up on his elbows, and gave the jar an interested look. "Something nice and slippery, I assume?"
Alistair grinned. "Very," he agreed, as he moved to sit back down on the bed, jar in hand.
