Prompt: Zevran convincing Alistair to 'hop borders'.

zev/alistair, first time awkwardness, m/m

A giggle rang out across the camp. The grey warden mage, and the red haired bard where whispering to each other, bodies pressed close together as they filled each other's ears with secrets Alistair felt sure would only make him blush.

The ex templar sat by the fire, trying very hard not to notice that Lelianna was dragged by the grey warden to the river, still laughing. As the echoes of their mirth faded, Alistair heard a soft sigh to his side, and the elf he had not observed sitting gave him a knowing smile.

"It is a beautiful thing, is it not?"

"Huh?" Alistair had not flailed out and hit Zevran in surprise, which he saw as a small accomplishment. Though he had never actually made contact, the elf being far too quick, he felt better that at least he did not fear assassination as much.

"Our grey warden and Lelianna, a more prefect pair I could not imagine. I take it they have gone to frolic in the waters ...again. Even though they extend no invitation to join them, if they would permit me watch, then I should die happy." Zevran gave an exaggerated flutter of his eyes, and grinned at Alistair.

"You would die, certainly, with an arrow through your chest and a fireball sizzling your hair." As the elf laughed, Alistair hoped the fire light was too low for Zevran to see his face flush with the idea of the grey warden... his grey warden... entangled with the bard.

He had gifted her with a rose, and though he stumbled over the words, he had though at least he sounded vaguely sensible in declaring his feelings. Like something from a fairy tale, he had thought she would fall into his arms, and that they would face the blight together, each trusting and finding strength in the other. Then, she had, very carefully and with a lot of care, broken apart his heart. She said that she did not, and would never feel the same way. She hoped that they would remain close friends, and that it was no fault of Alistair's. She then, two days later, followed the bard into her tent, and did not exit it until morning.

That had been some month and a half ago, and he still could not accept her decision. His chantry upbringing, and every tale of love and romance grated against the idea of the pairing. Alistair sighed into his hands, and stared into the fire.

"S'not right..." he muttered, and then realised he'd spoken aloud. He glanced up to see that Zevran had indeed heard him, and was frowning.

"That two ladies might find solace in each other's company? What is wrong with that?"

"They are *doing* things. Not natural things..."

Zevran gave Alistair an understanding look, he'd witnessed the fawning ex templar try to win the grey warden mage and fail, and could sympathise. He too had tried to win over the mage, but had quickly realised that her preference lay elsewhere. It was not such an alien concept to him, and he realised he was in a better position to move on than Alistair, who was obviously suffering from first-crush syndrome, and well as being hampered by a ream of chantry tainted morals.

"Alistair, why should a woman not find pleasure with whomever she chooses? Would you force a husband upon her, against her wishes?" The assassin's voice was soft, free from any mocking tone.

"No..."

"Then why assume that she could only find happiness with a man? Lelianna herself is a chantry disciple, yet she shows no qualms about the situation. The fairer sex are complicated creatures, and who better to understand them than another female?"

Alistair gave a brief jerk at the word 'sex' and Zevran had to fight to keep his face straight as he challenged both Alistair preconceptions of relationships, and his chronic inexperience.

He gave a sigh, choosing his words carefully. "Trust me Alistair, though a man and a woman is a more standard formation, there is nothing wrong in a woman loving a woman... or a man loving a man for that matter. You have already rejected the chantry ways and not become the templar they would have you be, let yourself likewise forget their silly notions about who can or cannot participate in one of life's great pleasures. After all, you have surely realised that I do not exactly follow the scripture to the word, yet has any terrible fate befell me? No. Nor has a desire demon reached out from the fade and ripped off my private parts." It was a carefully played exaggeration, deliberately bringing ridicule to his argument, letting Alistair see how foolish some of the chantry ideals could be, when viewed in the right light. It seemed to work, Alistair breaking into a quiet chuckle. Zevran hoped that the thought of something unfortunately happening to his man parts was not the sole source of Alistair's amusement, but was satisfied that at least Alistair seemed to have relaxed about the idea of discussing his issues with Lelianna and the grey warden.

"They do seem happy..." Alistair grudgingly admitted.

"Of course. Lelianna is a skilled musician, and will know how best to play upon the most intimate places and make the grey warden sing-"
"Ahhrgh! Zevran!" Alistair had clamped his hands over his ears, much to the assassin's dismay. Why no one had yet thrown Alistair into a brothel and locked the door until the ex templar overcame his overactive sensibilities was beyond him.

"Good grief Alistair, however will you learn about the world with your hands over your ears?" Zevran put his hands on his hips, and gave an exasperated shake of his head. sheepishly, Alistair lowered his hands, eyeing the elf with trepidation.

"Brought up in a chantry, remember? S'not my fault I'm... inexperienced."

"Ah. Well. If you were not so terribly shy, I might well be able to help in that regard." Zevran raised an eyebrow and smirked, half expecting Alistair to resume his standard hand-over-ears and tuneless singing. When the ex templar said and did nothing, but did not straight away refuse his offer, Zevran's interested suddenly was piqued. He shot Alistair a questioning glance.

"You... you are perhaps considering my proposal?"

"No... yes... maybe... I don't know." Had Alistair not looking so entirely miserable in his indecision, Zevran might have walked away. He was not one to hold someone's hand whilst walking them through the delicate dance of coupling, and it was not a matter of challenge, despite his comment to Shale. No, there was something about Alistair, a kindness Zevran had always thought a weakness, instead a facet of the man he was drawn to. He wanted to make Alistair happy, help him forget his infatuation with the other grey warden. Shuffling closer he laid a very gentle hand upon Alistair's bowed shoulder, the broad man curled around himself.
"It is also true that a man will understand the more masculine urges, and know how best to pleasure a fellow man..."

Alistair looked up, and saw Zevran start towards his tent, pausing briefly to see if Alistair would follow. Slowly, almost reluctantly, Alistair got up, and after checking no-one was watching, followed Zevran into his tent.

-

Zevran's tent was small, but had a pile of blankets collected over the sleeping roll. Alistair shot Zevran a disapproving glare, knowing that both he and the dog had been blamed for losing the fleeces and coverings that had 'gone missing' during their journeys. Zevran ignored Alistair's silent accusations, and settled himself on the blankets, starting to remove the straps on his leather armor.

Unsure, Alistair swallowed dryly, and his hands came up to heaver in front of him, looking entirely lost.

"Please, make yourself comfortable..." Zevran offered, when he saw that Alistair would likely stand until darkspawn took him if left to his own devices. Gratefully, Alistair sat, his own armor making it awkward to find somewhere where the plate would not dig into his legs. Suddenly Zevran was too close, and deftly unbuckling his bracers. Alistair stumbled backwards, one leg raised in defence. Zevran merely lifted his hands and backed off, smiling to show that he was prepared to let Alistair set the pace.

He proceeded to remove his own leathers, peeling them from him without hurry nor undue ceremony, guessing that either would only make Alistair more nervous. He was struggling with his buckles as it was. He glanced up, about to ask to help with the buckles on his side which were hard to unfasten by yourself, when Alistair saw that Zevran was lounging and completely naked.

His eyes automatically darted away, but then he realised that he would have to eventually look at the assassin, so might as well get used to the idea. Casting his eyes, he saw sleek muscles and smooth tanned skin, dark think swirls of ink over a shoulder, a hip, round an ankle. Zevran, satisfied that Alistair was admiring him, reached a hand over, and Alistair allowed the barest touch of fingertips on his elbow to guide him over. He heard the buckles on one side clip apart before he realised Zevran was working them, one handed while the other rubbed the back of his knuckles against a blushing cheek.

Alistair shucked off his armor, kicking it to the side as he nervously raised his own hand to touch Zevran. His mouth dry, and the air suddenly heavy and hard to draw into his lungs, but as soon as his fingers touched upon the skin he gave a sigh, seemingly relieved that he had not been struck down from on high for such an act. Zevran allowed Alistair to stroke his cheek, his eyes half closing when Alistair found the line of his jaw, or tilting his head as the warrior ran a single fingertip up to the point of his ear.

Chancing to glance downwards, Alistair was shocked to see the effect he was having on the Antivan. His chest tightened, and he stopped, his breath and wits deserting him. Zevran gave a reassuring smile, and plucked the hem of Alistair's shirt in his fingers, lifting it over the head, giving Alistair a second to collect his thoughts. He pressed a little closer, and, resting a hand on Alistair's shoulder partly to reassure, partly to stop the ex templar from bolting, pressed their lips together in a kiss. A pleasant tingle, like drinking fizzy wine, spread across his mouth, and Alistair was surprised to find his mouth opening willingly as Zevran probed with his tongue. The experience of kissing was new, and not as slimy as he had thought it would be. It was heated, and at times awkward when their noses bumped together, but Zevran carefully cupped the side of Alistair's face in his hand, and guided them. Soon Alistair was feeling light-headed, as he ran his tongue over Zevran's, finding that if he circled the other's lips, or used his teeth just a little, he could make Zevran exhale in breathy pants.

They broke, breathless, Alistair realising that Zevran perhaps had the right ideal in taking off his trousers, as his were feeling decidedly tight. He pushed them over his hip, and return to the kiss, Zevran leaning back and running fingers through his hair. Soft caresses over his neck and back, fingernails digging grooves up the top of his spine, making it very hard for Alistair to concentrate on kissing without letting saliva dribble down his chin.

Then Zevran snaked a hand downwards, and pressed his hand lightly upon Alistair's small clothes. A small nod, and Zevran pushed them down, and ran slender fingers up his length, watching as it stiffened. His cheeks were engulfed in a blush, as Zevran stroked up and down, applying pressure at just the right places, reducing Alistair to a shuddering silence.

It felt good, and Alistair's head clouded as Zevran skillfully wrapped both hands over his member, drawing the loose flesh over his tender tip. When he stopped, suddenly, Alistair all but cried out in protest. Zevran, licking his lips in a manner that would have had him worried any other time, simply made a turning gesture with a single finger, twisted to get a small bottle from his kit bag.

Alistair didn't move, the small bottle looking too much like possible poison for him to risk turning his back, and unsettled by Zevran's curved lips and flash of teeth.

"It is oil."

"Why do you need oil?"

"Turn around, and I will show you." This was delivered in a breathy whisper, and Alistair slowly complied, trying to turn his head to see what Zevran was up to as the assassin knelt behind him.

"Relax... This may be strange at first, but it will be worth it."

Alistair nearly sprung to his feet as he felt a slick finger trace down his spine and inbetween his buttocks, but Zevran had anticipated this, and placed his other hand solidly between his shoulder blades, firmly deterring Alistair from getting up. Alistair tried to remember to breath as Zevran stroked up and down, before starting to rub against his entrance. He was gentle, but persistent in pressing his finger inside, and it twisted, running along the inner walls until...

Alistair jerked, and gasped, and Zevran made note of the position of that particular spot, giving Alistair a second to compose himself before stroking against it once more. He removed the hand on Alistair's back, using it to balance as he built up a rhythm of slow strokes within Alistair, before adding a second finger.

"Zevran! I had.. I had no idea!" Alistair pushed his rear up into the air, between surprised gasps and moans, his weight too much to have on his member. He was about to reach under him to touch himself, when Zevran clasped his wrist and pushed it away.

"If you are ready, and willing, I am going to take you. And if you even think about saying 'take me where?' so-help-me I will feed you to the next darkspawn we come across!"

Alistair swallowed, he'd seen the elf, and though he was built like all elves, all slim and slender, it still seemed too much. Zevran had not yet steered him wrong though, and he could not deny his own engorged erection at the elf's attentions. He bit his lip, and nodded.

He felt hands on his hips draw him to all fours, and Zevran kneeled behind him, the heat from the assassin rolling across his skin. He saw Zevran apply oil to his penis, and then with a slow deliberate movement, start to push. The pressure was intense, and Alistair tried desperately to relax as instructed. As the muscles gave way to the invasion, the length rubbing over the swollen spot that made sparks appear before his eyes, Alistair fell forwards. Resting on his forearms, Alistair grit his teeth against the slight pain, followed by the feeling of being *filled*.

As hips bumped against his backside, Alistair saw Zevran curl a hand under him, and slowly start to stroke his manhood. Zevran hand working him, and already embedded within him, Alistair struggled to hold out, but as Zevran began to pump both his erection, and the elf's own hips back and forth Alistair felt himself release, over Zevran's knuckles and blankets. Zevran felt Alistair clench around him, and with a soft sigh of pleasure spurting his own seed deep into the ex templar.

He lay down on the blankets, beside the collapsed form of Alistair, whose eyes were already half lidded and breathing growing steady. Carefully drawing a sheet over his sleeping form, Zevran studied Alistair's expression of peace and smiled.

Now, how to boast his claim to Shale without Alistair self combusting through blush...?