Without any real desire to listen in on the mage book club, Zevran had to keep busy by annoying Sten and bantering with Oghren. They walked for a few hours, wanting road between them and the town, and it was quite dark when they finally stopped to camp. Dinner was late and a bit unsatisfying, and everyone was tired.

And still Wynne kept Alim busy. Zevran couldn't help suspecting that she might be occupying his time on purpose when he saw she'd had Alim start reading to her. That was just flagrant stalling. But what could he do? Alim clearly regarded her highly and trying to steal the kid away from her wouldn't recommend him. He sat by the fire until he was yawning and everyone seemed to have drifted off but the first watch and the mages. He was very close to giving up and going to bed when the dog trotted up.

"Oh, hello. Are you also feeling a bit neglected, um... I don't think anybody ever mentioned your name to me. Dog." The beast wagged its little stub of a tail. "What do I do? Throw a stick and you bring it back?" He cast about and found a bit of kindling to toss. The animal trotted into the darkness and returned immediately, making happy noises. "You know, I envy you. Such bliss, and all you need is an airborn branch. Why do we make happiness so complicated?" He threw it again. It was back in his lap and slobbery in a few moments.

He tossed it a few dozen times before Alim suddenly was sitting on the ground beside him. "Having fun?"

"Yes, actually. What is this monster's name?"

"Oh, it's Fen. It's one of the only Elvish words I know. It means wolf."

Zevran nodded, unsure what the Dalish would make of that, and slid his hand onto Alim's knee. The mage inhaled sharply, not even trying to muffle his reaction. He didn't seem much harder to please than the dog. "Do you think he could spare us for a little while?"

"If, um, you're not too tired." Alim grinned nervously. The friendly flicker of firelight didn't take anything away from the warden's fey beauty that Zevran had previously associated with moonlight and shadows. "Wynne and I got wound up in spell theory."

"Or she is trying to keep the likes of me away from the sweet flower of youth." He was pretty sure only Alistair had actually seen them kissing, but word traveled fast, and for all he knew, Alim had already told her. They were close. Announcing one's intentions to indulge in a dalliance did sound like Alim, but perhaps not to the mentor who seemed almost a parent to him.

Alim wrinkled his nose. "Sweet flower of youth?"

"That is a bit overripe even for me," Zevran agreed. "Come to think, how old are you?"

"Nineteen. Almost twenty! I, um, finished my apprenticeship pretty early, actually. It takes some time." He became very interested in a loose thread on the end of his sleeve.

"Oh, I am robbing the cradle. But we already know I'm a bad man."

"I do remember something about assassinating, yes." He looked more comfortable.

"I am well aware you have no idea what you're doing. Nothing involved is so difficult as all that. And you seem to be a quick study in general." He squeezed Alim's knee and stood, holding out a hand. "Come along."

Alim let Zevran haul him up and kissed him once he had his feet. Zevran had always liked kissing for its own sake, but in the sorts of encounters that had made up so much of his history, partners were often uninterested. Too much intimacy, not enough reward. No one had told Alim any of this, apparently, and he was a natural. Soft, yielding lips to nibble, more than enough enthusiasm to make up for lack of technique, a cooing sigh and arms that immediately tightened around him, the strength of the clinging embrace flattering. Indulging himself a moment, he ran his fingers through Alim's hair, slow and luxurious. It really was soft, the smooth, thick waves delicious on his fingers.

Altogether it went on a lot longer than either of them had planned for, and when Zevran finally found the presence of mind to step back, he was rather more breathless than he'd expected to be. "About those tents?"

"Why'd you stop?" Came a drunken holler from across the camp.

Zevran coughed. "Ahem. Case in point."

"Oghren, neither of us is a woman."

"Elves! Close enough!"

"Watch for darkspawn like you're supposed to." Alim groaned. "I'm sure a piece of cloth and some sticks will absolutely shield us from notice."

"You can generally hear Alistair snoring all over camp," Zevran agreed.

"You can not!" A sleepy mutter from off to their left.

And then they were in the tent, and the faintly flickering canvas of the walls defined the whole world.

Alim conjured a tiny, glimmering light to float above them and sat in a cross-legged pose of close attention that Zevran recognized from his lessons with Wynne. He wouldn't spend time wondering what that meant. "Well... How are we going to proceed?"

That was a question he'd considered at length, actually, even if Alim's way of putting it made him laugh. Before he could decide to be offended, Zevran took his hand. It wasn't just a gesture, either. It was like kissing him. He was so engaged, eager and delicate both. Definitely a novelty. Zevran didn't think he'd tangled himself up with a virgin since he was close to one himself, and quite a bit younger than Alim. Maybe that was the source of his current fixation.

"In all important respects, that is entirely up to you, but I suspect you'd like me to take the lead to a certain extent? I'm very good." Alim snorted, but fortunately didn't seem offended. "We will go slowly, and I promise to please you to the best of my considerable abilities."

"Alright, I trust you." He said it so easily Zevran's heart skipped a beat, but it was easy to dismiss inconvenient thoughts in this little pocket of unreality, with Alim's hand in his. His fingers danced up the mage's wrist absently and Alim shivered. "I meant, um, more specifically. I do have a general understanding of the mechanics, honest. And there are a few... options."

"Ah." He looked nervous to Zevran. "There is no need to drop you straight off the docks just to learn to swim." If he was careful and lucky he might have many nights to spend inducting Alim into various pleasures. No need to rush. It was just politic to shower Alim with gentle attentions. "We will play by ear, I think, but you can expect to leave penetration off the table for now."

Alim nodded, just a touch of relief in his eyes, and kissed him again. Zevran slowly began to push and explore, finding Alim meeting him every step. Parting his lips, teasing tongues, just a hint of a nip. A lack of preconceived notions might be a blessing.

"You may have to help me get those robes off you." He expected to have to coax, but Alim leaned forward cooperatively, showing him a line of hooks hidden by the folds and his hair. He looked conscious and flustered, but not reluctant.

Unfortunately, it was impossible to make the removal of frumpy mage robes into something sexy. Maybe it was simply his Antivan training. The warmer climate back home meant very different things for fashion. Perhaps Fereldans found it deeply erotic to wrestle their lovers out of layers of wool and fur? The confined space of the tent contributed to the general clumsy ineptitude of the whole thing, forcing Alim to wriggle in a not at all seductive manner to get the hem clear. Fortunately, he was a good sport about it. Zevran appreciated a lover who could laugh. And kiss, and hold hands. There were so many who seemed to think sex for fun had to be sex between strangers, with no kindness or playing. He understood, but he liked this better.

And he liked a naked Alim a lot, of course. He was a bit undergrown, yes, but there was something to be said for a trim figure. One reason Zevran generally preferred women was that he didn't enjoy feeling small with his partners. And all that smooth, dark skin just begged to be touched. He ran the backs of his fingers down Alim's blushing cheek and smiled. "Gold would suit you better than that silver you're wearing, you know."

"It's-"

"Traditional? Functional? Required by the chantry that mages dress to maximum disadvantage?"

"I was going to say 'your turn to be naked,' actually."

"Ah." He was pleasantly surprised. "I expected you to be shier, I confess. Where were you hiding your wantonness, little flower?"

"People are complicated. Making you like me... very complicated. I don't think sex is, really." He ran a hand through his hair and smiled sheepishly, stealing Zevran's breath away before he could reassure Alim that it didn't seem to have been difficult at all. "I still don't know what I'm doing, though."

"Maker, you are almost too sweet." He felt the danger of getting too close, too attached, letting a little smile and a pair of bright eyes really enchant him, but worries were for later. Sometime when he wasn't very nearly overset by lust. "It's quite ridiculous. Stop it."

"Can't make me." Alim leaned in for a kiss and pulled Zevran to him... Well, not roughly. With just a touch of force, and he clearly thought it was very bold and decisive. He amused himself by submitting to the kiss and letting Alim lead, seeing where this would go. He found himself shirtless quickly, Alim's fingers brushing deliciously against him as it was pulled free.

"Well, do you like what you see?" Zevran asked after a heartbeat or two went by and nothing happened.

Alim ran one finger down a winding line of tattoos on his bicep. "Quite a bit, yes," he said, nodding primly. He leaned heavily on Zevran a moment later, winding him up in a clumsy, tight embrace, and kissed a burning, wet line down his neck. Zevran breathed in hard and slid his fingers up Alim's jaw and cheek into his hair, nails digging in the slightest bit before catching around his silly little braid and holding him still. With deliberate, wicked slowness, Zevran ran his tongue from Alim's earlobe to the very tip and followed the salacious lick with a firm nip at the perfect little point. Alim let out a musical, gasping cry that only made him wilder. Pretense, abandoned. Mutual hunger took over.

Alim slid one hand slowly down his side, moving with no further hesitation to strip him down completely. Zevran moved to assist and pulled Alim into his lap the moment he could. There might be no artistry in it, but he'd get to that in a moment. He just wanted to soak in heat and contact, run his hands over smooth skin, feel Alim's pounding heart and the lovely slickness of sweat. The way the mage squirmed and moaned in his grasp, the lovely friction between them... Maker, he had to get his head on straight. He might as well be the fumbling virgin here.

He pressed his nose into Alim's hair and breathed deep, calming a little, and rested his hand on the smaller elf's chest. "Careful, now, we don't want it over too fast."

"Y-you put me here," Alim said, and wriggled in Zevran's lap for emphasis, drawing a low moan from him. "Doesn't quality count as well as quantity?"

"Perhaps you have me there. Still, I'd have your first little experiment be something worth remembering." His fingers wandered over Alim's belly and slid down to his thigh. He squeezed and Alim squirmed, and then his hand was covered by a darker one, rough, searching nails sliding up his arm. He could tell the kid was imitating him, but the initiative was nice to see, especially when he abruptly twisted and wrapped his arm around Zevran's neck, catching him in another devouring kiss.

"I'm having fun," he protested.

"I believe you, but..." His hand slid to Alim's inner thigh and he enjoyed the squeaky response it got him. He didn't want to say anything sappy and words were hard to find right now. "A little something special is the least I can do, delicious as it is to have you there." He felt his hips roll just the tiniest bit unbidden, as if in emphasis.

"By which you mean... get off?"

"Yes, but you won't mind." Alim was a good sport about not pointing out a second time that it was Zevran's overexcited miscalculation that had put them here, and he scooted onto the floor of the tent. Zevran smiled and pushed him gently onto his back with a long kiss on the neck, soothing him on his way. Despite all the evidence of the mage's enthusiasm, things could change quickly. Even more quickly for a flighty virgin who no doubt wouldn't be near his bed without the prospect of imminent death and the end of the world.

He suspected simple would be best. Alim wasn't ready for the sorts of games he could think of a dozen ways to improvise with rope and tent stakes and leather bits of armory all in ready supply, he wasn't particularly flexible, and in the small space and more or less surrounded by some of the strangest people they'd ever met, creativity might not be rewarded. No, he knew how to give simple pleasure, and a great deal of it.

Not his favorite activity, perhaps, but worth it to please Alim. Win him back for more nights. And maybe just to both enjoy themselves. Sometimes his thinking was so transactional he annoyed even himself. Zevran began to kiss his way lower, taking his sweet time. Neck, the curve of muscle that joined it to the shoulder (a little biting there, because he only had so much willpower, and he loved it when Alim squeaked), collarbone. He stopped to kiss a puckered dagger scar that must have been left by darkspawn before they ever crossed paths, enjoying Alim's softer sigh. Then teasing kisses down his chest, and sucking gently at a nipple.

He didn't mean to spend so long on that, but Alim made the most delightful noise, and the hand that had just been stroking his hair wound up painfully tight in it. He didn't intend to bring up that he liked hair-pulling quite this early, but he could enjoy a hint. Zevran licked slowly, making Alim jump and then shiver, and looked up at him through a curtain of tossed-about hair. "Yes?"

"Yes! Mm, don't stop, you're mean..."

"I am, am I?"

"I might like mean." Alim smiled in a manner he clearly thought was seductive. "Come back up here?"

"Hm. No. Busy." And he began to slide down again, lips and tongue dancing over slick skin. He felt Alim tense and suspected the virgin's sensibilities had just caught up. There were certainly no more objections, anyway. He diverted course a little and kissed over to a very bony hip, nibbling at the curve, nuzzling the little hollow it made. Very aware of Alim's fingers on his scalp, still holding on a little tight, he moved closer, kissing his inner thigh, absorbing the other elf's groan as his hair brushed more sensitive skin.

He was stalling more than teasing, perhaps. When that realization hit he forced himself to relax. Alim was not only a strangely gentle soul with his friends but half the size of, say, Tali. Most of the men he'd been with had been humans, and given all his proclivities, rough as well. He liked rough, but the way the road had been treating them of late, he didn't need that right now.

Without hesitating any longer, he slid the head of Alim's cock between his lips. The sound he drew from the mage was absolutely lovely, a low, soft note at the bottom of his voice, a growl around the edges. His hips bucked and Zevran grunted softly as he tipped his head a little.

"Sorry, did I..."

Had he ever been apologized to? What a novelty. "No harm done." Zevran stroked his hip reassuringly and popped Alim back into his mouth, sucking gently and beginning to explore the shaft a bit with his tongue. He could already tell this wouldn't be a lot of work. In a moment he had Alim moaning loud enough to annoy the whole damn camp and possibly attract lurking darkspawn. He hoped whoever was on watch could manage them.

He almost stopped to tease him again, but he was caught up enough in the moment to decide he was too lazy and lose himself in the smooth motions he made with very practiced ease. His head bobbed rhythmically, and a few heartbeats later Alim's fingers tightened almost too painfully in his hair. "Zev!" Appreciating the warning, he half sat up and switched to his hand, finishing Alim with a few quick strokes. He loved watching someone uninhibited. For himself, he kept his responses muted, forced by circumstances to try to learn to stay quiet and calm, but this was much prettier, watching him shudder and gasp.

When Alim slumped bonelessly and his eyes slid closed, Zevran was prepared to accept it. Disappointed, but he had teased a virgin mercilessly first. If he was going to be particular about his own pleasures, he'd chosen poorly. But Alim only breathed deep a few times before he sat up, shaking his head and blinking blearily. He kissed Zevran, slowed down without desperation, but plenty of passion. It might have been his favorite kiss of the night so far, especially coming after what it did. It apparently hadn't occurred to Alim to object to the slight taste of himself.

"You next?" he asked shakily, meeting Zevran's eyes with a dazed smile.

"Ah." He was a little surprised. "If you feel inclined, I suppose. This is your first..." He'd never had a male lover make the offer, and very few women, come to think. He was inclined to think the act more of a chore than anything.

"I want to." Alim kissed him dreamily and, as Zevran didn't see any reason to tell him no, he began once again to try to mimic the Crow, mouthing playfully at Zevran's throat on his way down. He hardly needed to tease, but Maker, it was sweet that he did. Zevran groaned and let his eyes close, surrendering.

He was a very bad assassin.

Zevran held himself half upright, planting one palm behind him, and rested the other hand lightly on the back of Alim's head as he quickly worked his way down, lapping kittenishly and more or less at random. Were he less aroused, Zevran would have found it ridiculous, but at the moment, the mage would have to work very hard to do something wrong.

He didn't work up to it much, slipping Zevran's cock between his lips and trying immediately to go too deep. Zevran felt him stop and regret it and muttered something like, "Careful," hoping very much Alim wouldn't think better of it. He recovered, thankfully.

Enthusiasm more than made up for a lock of technique. He sucked hard and his soft, clever tongue teased, head bobbing shallowly. It was lovely to watch. Zevran had just enough presence of mind to get a kick out of seeing the young, pretty elf work so hard to please him. No saint, he.

When he felt the heat coiled in his core begin to spike, he tugged Alim's hair gently. "Sweetling..." Alim looked up at him through beautifully tousled hair, but didn't let up a bit. Zevran suspected he didn't know what he was getting into, but didn't have it in him to protest. He tried to stay still when he climaxed, but he couldn't quite help the jerky roll of his hips in the last few moments.

Alim squeaked a bit, but didn't seem to mind. As Zevran collapsed into the bedroll, breathing hard, he sat up and quickly wiped his mouth. "I've... had dreams like that," he said uncertainly, pushing hair out of Zevran's face.

Zevran lazily stretched a hand up toward him a few inches and beckoned him down. Alim obediently settled beside him. "Was I in them?"

"Well, recent ones, I guess." Alim yawned and wrapped an arm around him. Soon it would be uncomfortable and claustrophobic (though at least the local chill kept it from being too hot together in such a small space), but for now, it was lovely.

"You're a wicked little thing, it turns out," he observed sleepily, snuggling back.

"Who knew?"

"Repression. It's terrible." Zevran was out of energy to talk, and let himself drift with his endearing mage coiled around him. It wasn't until he was nearly asleep that he rolled out of Alim's grasp and curled up on his side.