The Earring II

CONTENT:
Rating: Mature
Flavor: Adventure/Drama
Language: yes
Violence: no
Nudity: yes
Sex: yes (m/m)
Other: none

Author's Notes:

Finally done! haha, then i discovered that part of this scene was a bit i already did a few chapters ago. and had to figure THAT out. so finally done, AGAIN!

I said we're coming to a part that's already written, but... there's bits in between that need to happen. I might summarize. I said I would do that, this book. Right?

Recap:

After the defeat of the Archdemon, and a well-deserved day or two off(!?), Bannon, Zevran, Alistair, and Shianni headed out on a tour of Ferelden.

Bannon dealt with the problem of a pregnant Nesiara (no, he wasn't the father). Then they headed into the Dales.

After having a freakish encounter with some darkspawn in some tunnels, and blowing up some Brood Mothers ::shudder::, they spend some time with the Dalish. Shianni decided to stay with them (with Dakorien, of all people!).

Quick trip through Redcliffe (all quiet) and Orzammar (Bhelen is getting rich on all the new trade), then on to Orlais.

The Orlesian Grey Wardens, led by Kristoff, are a bit prickly, but Bannon and Zevran get to enjoy the finer fruits of Orlesian nobility, while Alistair heads out on a trip to Weisshaupt with Kristoff and a contingent of Wardens.

Then the elves board Isabellas' ship to play pirate on their way to Antiva. They meet another ship captained by Soris!? Who is attempting to rescue elves taken as slaves. Meanwhile, Bannon has found an earring he has presented to Zevran, on 'a mere whim.'

The Earring II

==#==

Zevran took another gulp of Antivan Brandy, then set the glass on the table. The captain's table had a miniature railing around the circumference, to prevent items from sliding off in rough seas. The cabin was lit in the warm golden light of the hanging oil lamp, gleaming from the polished wood, the dark bottle, the thick cut crystal glass. Slowly, the room tilted as the Siren's Call climbed the ocean's swell, like a traveler in a vast desert, climbing and descending the dunes.

He took the earring out of his pocket. He rubbed his thumb along the smooth curve. For a long moment, he was absorbed in the look of it, the feel. It had been given a good dunking in salt water and now gleamed pristinely. It was solid gold, a fat-bellied ring that tapered near its clasp. It was heavier, thicker than the ring he had given to Bannon. But the Rivani prince's ring also had ruby and emerald chips, increasing its value. They were probably worth the same. Not that it mattered.

The elegant Rivani earring represented a prince, a sexy, rich, successful merchant. The thick Tevinter earring represented a maleficar, powerful and dangerous. It suited them.

He was, after all, the greatest Crow Assassin, ever. Had he not attained his freedom? And lived to tell about it! All thanks to his patrone. He turned the ring over and over, recalling the Warden's voice one night, from behind a door.

'I don't want something from him. I want to give something to him.'

His freedom. His... The shine dazzled his eyes with a blur. He closed them and slugged the rest of his drink.

Bannon had given him freedom, symbolized by this ring. And would grant him more permanent freedom if all went according to plan. Zevran shivered. What about-? No! He swiftly poured another shot and downed it, letting the liquid fire burn away any thoughts and doubts. Live for today; there was only the now. Shake off the fetters of the past. Deny the morbid phantoms of possible futures. Here and now. He focused on the shiny ring. A tiny distorted world of light and shadow reflected back from the gold.

Zevran had been subject to all kinds of pain. Never before had he had a say in whether to go through with it. Oh, there had been a mock semblance of it. Would you like to suffer this pain, or starve? Would you be willing to be hurt, or killed? Will you face your punishment like a true Crow, or be beaten like a coward? A sham.

He poured another shot and gulped it down.

And why, when given a choice, should he choose pain? Wouldn't the truest expression of his freedom be, finally, to say 'no'?

He didn't want to say no. Bannon had gone through with it. Zevran wanted to do it, too. Not through any contest, bravado, or one-upmanship on the thief... But because they would share it. A bond, if you will.

Zevran poured another two fingers, then secured the bottle against the ocean's swell.

He didn't fear pain, but Bannon had recommended being slobbering drunk, and Zevran did have a choice in how numbed he was. His only concern was if it would impede his performance afterward. He already knew he'd need to be in top form to keep up with his Warden.

The ship slowly rolled back again, making the oil lamp swing, shifting its shadows from one end of the cabin to the other, like the ebb and flow of ink.

The door latch clattered, and the thief came in, pausing between steps to keep his sea legs.

"You have it," Zevran said, barely a question.

"Yes." Bannon secured the door. "Take off your shirt."

"Take off your shirt," the Antivan shot back saucily. But he wasted no time stripping off his tunic, after he set the earring on the table.

Bannon set down his pouch and eeled out of his shirt.

By that time, Zevran had also disposed of his belt and kilt. He didn't bother being coy with his smalls, either.

Bannon cocked a brow. "Where are you expecting me to pierce you?"

"You can pierce me wherever you want," Zeveran purred, his voice throaty from the liquor. "With whatever implement you have at hand, lover."

The thief's face flushed. But in embarrassment, or arousal?

Zevran entertained a fancy of Bannon strapping him down, piercing him, then having his way with him. Would tonight be the night? Until now, the thief had been a reluctant dominant, content to be the one tied, the one tormented and teased. Perhaps now, Zevran could bring out the master in him.

Bannon elected to keep his trousers on, at least for now. He emptied the pouch onto the recessed tabletop with the faint clicking of fine metal. Then he used Zevran's firestarter to light one of the candles - more pool of wax than stick, and stuck to the tabletop.

"What did you find?" Zevran asked.

"Isabella gave me a sailcloth needle." Bannon held it up for inspection, and Zevran's eyes widened in awe of its size and lethal point. The thief scoffed. "They did mine with a punch awl. Much bigger."

Zevran smirked. "You always say yours is bigger."

"I think you're confused." Bannon rolled his eyes. "How much did you drink?"

"A goodly amount."

"Well, have some more; it hurts like a bitch."

"Eh, I can take it." Zevran waved it off languidly.

"But you don't have to." Bannon gave him a direct look, his eyes cast in shadow and light in turn as the lamp and deck swayed.

Zevern's lashes lowered, but he forced himself to look up. "I know," he said quietly.

The thief nodded and set the needle to the candle flame. "Bring the stool over, so you can sit here at my knees."

"As you wish." The assassin got up and did as requested.

"I could use a shot or two of that brandy, myself."

"Heh." Zevran portioned out the precious liquor. "We need your hands steady and your aim true," he chided. "And your performance unimpeded," he added with a leer.

He downed his drink, then retrieved the ring and sat on the stool. Bannon took the chair, turning it to face Zevran. He drew the soot-blackened needle through a wet cloth, then set those down so he could quaff his drink.

Zevran looked up at his lover looming above him, partly silhouetted in the shifting light. Bannon looked down on him, and for a long moment, they stared deep into each other's eyes.

Then Bannon leaned forward. Zevran craned his neck, and their lips met, soft, warm, tinged with the fire of liquor. Zevran straightened his spine, reaching higher. His eyes closed, and he felt Bannon's hand on his chest, rubbing across his pectorals. The thief's nimble fingers found his left nipple, then tickled and teased.

A tingle spread through Zevran's belly and groin. Then Bannon pinched and tugged. It seemed cruel to coax blood into the sensitive nub when he was about to pierce it, but he needed to be able to get a grip.

Zevran broke the kiss with a small gasp.

Bannon held the nipple taut, the needle poised. Zevran started to look down, but thought better of it. He watched his lover's eyes instead.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, amore'."

"Take a deep breath for me. Then blow it out, slowly."

Zevran did so, lips pursed to make a faint blowing sound.

"Good. Again."

He breathed in. Blew out, slowly, and suddenly, Bannon jabbed the needle through his tender flesh, all at once. Zevran was glad he barely had breath left, or he might have cried out. His lungs emptied in a near-silent wheeze.

"Hold still."

Was he pulling away? He made an effort to lean into his lover's hand, not too hard.

Bannon turned the needle, pulled it halfway out. Had it done its job? Wetness pricked Zevran's eyes.

"The ring."

Zevran still held it clenched. He turned his hand, opened it, offering it up.

"Just a bit more." Bannon slipped the needle out and pushed the opening of the ring through. It widened the hole, stretching Zevran's pained flesh.

Emotion and memories crashed within him, even as he struggled to deny them, to forget. Things the thief didn't know about him, about his past, that Zevran never wanted him to know. They shattered in his mind, like shards of glass. No, this, this, superseded them all. The willing mark of submission he would bear proudly. His bond to this one man, the true owner of his body and soul, his very heart.

Bannon finished fastening the ring, let it come to rest on Zevran's pectoral. It throbbed with sharp golden pain, pulsing in time with Zevran's heartbeat.

"I am yours," he breathed, and it felt right. He slid off the stool, knelt between Bannon's knees. "As long as my heart beats, I am your man, without reservation."

He made quick work of the thief's belt and lacings, cupping him in his hands, taking him in his mouth, lavishing adoration upon him.

Bannon leaned back to give him access. He caressed Zevrans' hair, the edge of his thumb tickling along the sweep of the assassin's ear.

Zevran plied him with his best tricks, dissolving him in primal ecstasy, devoid of words save for 'Zevran, oh Zevran.' His lover's voice sparked his own arousal.

Bannon gripped him as he climaxed, hands tangled in Zevran's hair, thighs tightening around his body. Then he fell limp in the chair, painting lightly.

Zevran smiled at a job well done. Then he helped Bannon out of his trousers, pulling them easily from the thief's limp legs. "Come over to the bunk, lover," he suggested. He was ready to move ahead with a sensual massage and the piercing Bannon enjoyed most. He held out a hand to help the Warden up.

Bannon smiled back and took it. He stood, but didn't let Zevran tug him into bed. He tugged back and pulled Zevran into an embrace. Zevran circled his arms under and up, gripping those muscular shoulders. Their chests pressed together. He could feel the faint prick of the edge of Bannon's ring on his right, overshadowed by the sharp sensitive point on his left.

"Now, lover," the assassin purred, "what I want is for you to bend me over this bunk and have your way with me."

"What I want..." Bannon tangled his fingers in Zevran's hair. "Is for you to teach me to make it good for you."

"More of my secrets, hmmn? Are you sure you can retain control?"

The thief gripped and pulled his head back to nibble at his throat. "I am in complete control." He stroked Zevran's ear with his free thumb.

Zevran quivered.

"Are the massage oils hot enough?"

"Ice would be hot enough at this point."

Bannon chuckled and released him. They went to the bunk and Zevran got into position. Bannon took his time with the massage, while Zevran lectured him on the tricks of the trade.

His lover mounted him with confidence, and Zevran shifted minutely, guiding him with word and gesture, until... "Ahhhh," he breathed. "Right there. Now, lover," his voice quavered, "sure and strong."

The Warden obliged, as ever, and Zevran was able to relax, to let slip his tight control. Bannon's hands gripped his pectorals, squeezing and stroking. The contrast between the sharp twinge and the feathery tickle was a sensual delight.

Zevran let his lips part, allowed his breathy exhalations to become vocalized. He didn't want this sublime pleasure to end, but he couldn't deny the ecstasy of the climax.

His whole body tensed on the precipice; it only took one shiver to tip both elves over the edge.

Breath returned to Zevran's body in a rush. "that was sublime, amore'."

"Thank you," Bannon whispered in his ear.

"How would you like a nice Antivan massage now?"

"Mm."

"And then I will pierce you in the way you love most, hmn?"

He could feel Bannon's abdomen tense in anticipation. "Si, lo adoro, molto." The Denerim elf's accent was perfect.

Zevran chuckled, and wrestled him into the bunk. He took the opportunity to demonstrate his techniques once more, and was pleased to note his pupil remembered his previous lessons.

At last, they tumbled together in a satiated heap, tangled in the covers as best they could without moving, and then slept like the dead, rocked by the motion of the ship.

==X==

End Notes:

"Si, lo adoro, molto." Yes, I love it, a lot.