As soon as Owen had closed their bedroom door behind them, Zevran found himself being enveloped in the mage's arms, the large man leaning down to rest his head on the elf's shoulder, nosing into his hair to lip at the shell of one pointed ear. Zevran grinned, reaching up to rest his hand against Owen's scruffy cheek.

"Mmmm... not that I am complaining, of course, but what brings this on?" he asked, tilting his head to give the man better access to his ear, arching his neck like a cat arching its back at the pleasant sensation.

"Mmmm, well, the fact that we were so annoyingly interrupted earlier, for one," Owen said. "Just when things were starting to get interesting, too."

Zevran smiled, then ducked his head away from Owen's attentions and turned in his arms, reaching up to cup Owen's face and pressed a heated kiss to his lips. "For one? Then what is for two?"

Owen grinned, and caught the elf around the ribs, heaving him upwards as he straightened. Zevran locked his legs around the mage's waist, and immediately became away of something pressing firmly against his own groin. "Ah. Is that how it is?" he asked, voice amused, and glanced down pointedly.

Owen grinned, then turned and leaned Zevran's back against the wall, freeing his hands to tug Zevran's shirt loose and slide up under it, his mouth capturing Zevran's and returning the rogue's kiss with interest. Zevran made a sound of approval, hooking his arms around the man's neck to make it easier for Owen to hold him up, and grinding his hips encouragingly against him. Owen growled at that, then broke the kiss. He slid his arms back around the elf's back, and turned, carrying him over to their bed, Zevran pressing kisses along his jaw and neck as he did so, hands tangling into the mage's long hair. Reaching the side of the bed, Owen stopped, and patted Zevran's hip. "Legs down," he directed.

Zevran nodded, and let his legs drop free, so that he was standing on the bed while Owen remained standing on the floor. It raised him enough that he was looking slightly down at the mage, an unusual viewpoint given the man's gargantuan stature. They spent a good few minutes just pleasantly exploring how that changed what could easily be kissed or caressed.

Owen started stripping off Zevran's clothes, tossing things aside piece by piece until Zevran was nude, gently batting aside Zevran's hands when the elf tried to remove his as well. He stepped back slightly, hands resting on Zevran's hips, and looked him up and down appreciatively. "Yum," he said, and licked his lips pointedly. "I never did give you your reward last night, did I?" he asked speculatively.

"Hmmm, no, I believe we went pretty much straight to sleep last night," Zevran agreed. "I blame having been awake so late the night before, at our friend Teagan's charming residence. Does this mean you are thinking of giving me my reward now?"

Owen grinned, and tossed his head, flipping his long hair out of his eyes. "Yes."

"Delightful. Do I get a choice in the matter, or do you already have fiendish plans for how to take advantage of my so-willing body?"

"Mmmm. Fiendish plans, I think," Owen growled, and stepped close again, lowering his head to lick and bite at the skin around the base of Zevran's neck. Zevran hissed in approval, tilting his head well back to give Owen easier access to his throat. Owen worked his way lower after a little while, licking and biting at Zevran's nipples, large hands stroking almost randomly along his body and limbs, until the elf's legs were shaking with the effort of remaining upright.

Finally Owen drew back. "Lie down, on your back," he ordered, and began taking off his own clothing at last, quickly stripping down to bare skin. Zevran was lounging back on his elbows, watching appreciatively. Owen gave him a crooked smile, raising one eyebrow, and Zevran grinned toothily back at him, then licked his lips pointedly.

Owen laughed, before crouching down and digging into his pack, coming back to his feet a moment later with a wide sash in one hand. "Sit up," he said, and moved to sit down beside Zevran. He smoothed out the fabric, draping it over his thigh, then reached to strip out Zevran's braids, carding his hair back over his shoulders. He leaned in, and kissed Zevran tenderly. "I'm going to blindfold you," he said, warningly.

Zevran nodded acceptingly. "And then...?"

"Have my wicked way with you."

Of course. Go ahead, mi mago, you know I trust you."

Owen smiled. "Hold your hair back out of the way," he whispered, and lifted the strip of cloth as Zevran scraped his hair back as if putting it into a ponytail. The sash, meant to go around his waist, went twice around Zevran's head, with long tails left dangling in back.

"All right, lie back down again," he said softly, voice husky. Zevran lay back down, raised slightly against the pillows at the head of the bed. Owen made an approving noise. "Lift your knees, and spread them," he instructed, as he rose from the bed and returned to his backpack, fetching a few things he thought he might need over the course of delivering Zevran's reward.

Zevran silently did as he'd been told.


He'd done blindfolded play before, but most often with him being the one doing the blindfolding. It had been several years at least since the last time it had been done to him. He'd almost forgotten how subtly disorienting it could be, feeling the bed dip and shift under him as Owen moved around him, not knowing when and where he'd be touched next, whether by hand or by something else. Lips, now, warm and dry against his stomach, the slight scratch of Owen's facial scruff scraping against his skin as the man nuzzled around his navel. Something dripped on his arm, just slightly cool, and his nostrils flared, catching the almost-neutral scent of oil, before something touched the little spot of it and began smearing it over his skin. A fingertip, he thought, though he couldn't be sure.

One of the intriguing things about Owen's size was how much of Zevran he could reach; he could be kneeling to Zevran's left, and still easily be touching, teasing, caressing, kissing and tonguing at Zevran's right side. He tried to guess, from shifts of the bed and touches, where Owen was, what position he was in. Sometimes he would guess from a shift where he would be handled next – a subtly reassuring feeling, that he'd guessed the other man's current position correctly – and other times there would be the unsettling feeling of a touch coming unexpectedly, and he'd have to revise his guess as to Owen's position and orientation.

And such rousing touches, such insistent teasing... he was finding it increasingly hard to stay still, muscles beginning to tremor from the strained position of keeping his legs up and apart, from fighting to remain still when fingers or tongue or lips stroked him in particularly enticing ways. He moaned, wanting more than just the teasing touches.

The surface of the bed heaved again, a big move that time, leaving him more disoriented than before. He felt the bed sag beneath his buttocks, the only indication he had of where Owen had moved to, before a mouth closed over him, hot and moist, taking him to the root in one controlled plunge.

He yelped and jerked, startled, and heard and felt Owen make a disapproving growl. He froze again, outright shaking now with the effort of remaining still. Owen stayed motionless for a long moment, mouth and throat warm and close around Zevran's length, until the elf whimpered at the lack of additional sensation. And then the man began to move, slowly raising and lowering his head, lips and tongue working. His hands moved to cup Zevran's buttocks, fingers and thumbs kneading at his flesh. After a moment he lifted his mouth entirely free. "Rest your feet on my shoulders," he said quietly, then resumed what he'd been doing.

Zevran did so, feeling the strain in his thighs and stomach ease now that his legs had some support. He gave himself up to just enjoying the sensation of Owen's mouth on him, hot and demanding, sometimes enveloping just his tip, teasing at it, sometimes taking his whole length deep, throat muscles and tongue fluttering against him. Finally he stiffened, crying out as he came into the mage's mouth, the darkness behind the blindfold and his closed eyelids lighting up with sparks of light.

Cuddling, then, and more stroking, feeling Owen's own erection pressing warm and hard against his thigh as the mage first soothed him and then began to excite him again. Owen was under him now, sitting up against the headboard, Zevran face-up on top of him. One oil-slicked hand closed around his cock and began a steady stroke, while the mage's other hand reached further back, first toying with his balls, then brushing over the soft skin beyond them, finding and brushing in light circles around his puckered entrance. A finger pressed slowly inwards, curving in and forwards to press in just the right spot, making him jerk and hiss, before withdrawing. The finger moved slowly in and out, then was joined by a second. The fingers curved, stilled, pressing just lightly inside him, the thumb on that hand moving to press against the skin between his legs, just behind the base of his balls.

"I'm going to try something new," whispered ticklishly against the shell of his ear, was the only warning he had, then the fingers pressed firmly, and energy surged between them and the thumb. He cried out, in surprise, in shock, curling tightly as every muscle in his body seeming to clench for a moment, the world narrowing to just the exquisite feeling deep in his groin. His back arched sharply, only his buttocks and the top of his head in contact with Owen, then his heels came down and his hips thrust up. His cry changed to a scream of mixed pain and pleasure as he came, seed spurting out of him, hips thrusting convulsively, slamming himself with painful force into the curl of Owen's hand.

He must have blacked out. The next thing he was aware of was being curled up tightly in Owen's arms, the mage running hands soothingly along his skin, making little sounds of reassurance. He was sore and trembling with the aftermath.

"I think..." Owen began, voice uncharacteristically hesitant, almost tremulous. "I think I might want to use rather less power, if I ever do that to you again."

Zevran laughed weakly, and tiredly moved to drape his arms around the man's neck, hugging him tightly. "Yes," he agreed shakily. "That was... magnificent... but perhaps a little too intense. I would certainly encourage trying it again some time though," he added thoughtfully.

Owen laughed, then stripped the blindfold off of him, and kissed him warmly. "I think after that little miscalculation we should abandon the rest of my plans for the night and just sleep. Busy day ahead tomorrow anyway," he said regretfully

Zevran nodded, and the two shifted around, cuddling more comfortably together for sleep.

"So... does this mean I still have more reward coming later?" Zevran asked after a few minutes, a hopeful note in his voice.

Owen laughed warmly. Answer enough.