To the four, kind people that left me a review on the first chapter, you have my sincerest thanks. I've felt very wary about posting this, and your words of encouragement have meant a lot. Not to mention that the good reviews fuel the muse. This chapter is fairly short, but the next one will be significantly longer.

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When I awoke, it took my mind several seconds to realize what had happened and where I was. Perhaps it would have taken less time had I been staring up at trees, but instead I was staring at the roof of a tent. I should have woken up cold and shivering, not warm under blankets. For a moment, I wrestled with the notion that my experience had been a cruel dream.

As if on cue, a twinge of soreness spread through my bowels, and though it felt unpleasant, I was overjoyed to feel it. Similar pains were in my arms and legs, reminding me of my bound wrists and the blindfold that had deprived me of sight for far too long.

My reminiscing was cut short when I noted that my companion was not in the tent with me. I foolishly panicked, scrambling out of blankets and tearing open the flap of the tent.

"I'm still here," he stated the obvious, a little shocked by my interruption. He remained seated, unwilling to turn and look at me.

I breathed a lengthy sigh of relief, then awkwardly apologized for scaring him. I held my palm against my chest as though it would coerce my heart into calming down, lost on what to say to him next. Instead, I watched his silhouette and simply breathed. I had longed to be near him like this for what felt like ages, but I found myself curiously terrified of disturbing him.

It was nice to finally get a good look at him, at least, even if he was facing away. He seemed to be the same: sun kissed skin clad in worn leather. His hair hung loose, pouring down to his shoulder blades.

I messed with the jewel of my earring, fondly remembering the nimble fingers that placed it there. As I watched him, I realized that the unmerited adoration I had held for him was resurfacing through layers and layers of the resentment. In fact, I felt peaceful, allowing myself to be dazzled by the mellow light of the fire.

I stood, scooping blankets with me. As I neared him, I was stunned that I had mustered the nerve to move at all. I placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, trying not to surprise him again.

He jerked slightly, rubbing at his face. "Ah, you were so quiet that I figured you had laid back down," he fumbled, scooting over to give me room that I really didn't need.

He wouldn't look at me, and this thought disturbed me. My heart was starting to sink in my chest again.

Upon closer inspection, I noticed that a faint trace of mist in his eyes was sparkling in the fire light. I leaned in close, kissing a bare spot on his neck, overwhelmed with the need to be against him. I smiled, feeling the vibrations in his throat as he moaned.

"Now that you've had your rest, I can do nothing to stop your insati--"

I pressed my hand over his mouth, kissing him on the point of his ear. "No more talking," I stated simply, amused at how he bit the insides of my fingers. "I can think of several, better ways for your mouth to be of use to me."

He was typical; involving sexuality in a conversation strangely set him at ease. I felt his muscles relax beneath me, and it encouraged me to slather him in more sloppy kisses.

I sank my teeth into his neck, returning the treatment he had done to my hand, and I was rewarded with more pleasant vibrations. I couldn't help but smile against him, feeling his tongue dragging up and down my fingers, occasionally trying to pry them apart.

I eventually let him go, though I allowed my hand to continue petting his face. Instead of taking advantage of his freedom, he merely sat there and enjoyed my light touches, eyes closed and mouth shut. I wasn't surprised by his enjoyment; it had probably---hopefully---been around two years since his last meaningful contact with another. The lump grew in my throat, but I found peace in the thought that no one else could see him so vulnerable and willing to trust. My heart swelled, convinced that he had come back to me for at least that reason.

His hand clasped mine, almost reassuringly, as though he had read my thoughts. He held it against his chest, expressing to me in actions what he had never been able to in proper words. He froze as though he was about to say something that required every ounce of his grit.

"You can tell me when we get back to the tower. I think it would be best if we didn't spoil this evening with words, don't you agree?" I insisted, twining my fingers through his. He exhaled, letting his thought go with his breath. "Come," I told him, standing, pulling him up with me.

Like some elegant, suave seducer, I led him back to our tent by the fingertips, well aware that I was no such thing in reality. Nevertheless, his eyes bored into me as though I were, and I shot him confident glances and smiles as I ghosted in my sheer blanket.

We ducked into the tent together, and I immediately let the fabric fall to the ground around me. I helped him out of his clothes, all the while kissing him ferociously. I inhaled his lips as though I hadn't eaten in days, and that wasn't far from the truth. My hunger for him far outweighed my lust for real sustenance, and I pushed away my personal needs to satisfy him.

He felt molten in my hands, letting me lead. I pawed at his heated flesh, venting my earlier deprivation, unable to touch enough of him.

Finally, I removed his boots, amused at his clumsy dance as I did so. I caught him off balance, pulling him down into the pile of blankets.

We landed awkwardly, tangled up in each others' limbs. For a moment we simply enjoyed one another's comfort and weight, at a loss for what to say or do. I strained to see him, only managing to see the highlights of his hair and the devious sparkle in his eyes. It was as good of a guess as any that he was struggling to do the same.

I wasn't sure who kissed who first, or if it had been a tied race. I knew only his touch, acting and reacting by instinct alone. Our kiss was slow and savory, far unlike our earlier behavior. Oddly enough, I was more relaxed than anything; my excitement still managed to burn low within me, however, listening to our wet noises and pleasant sighs.

With the tip of my finger, I traced his raised veins down his arm. Gently, I heated the blood beneath, waiting for a response. He quickly stilled, chuckling into our kiss. "Ah, yes, it seems you've regained some of your strength. Should I beg for mercy?" he asked, lazily continuing to grope my lips with his own as if he expected no response from me.

My fingers scratched down his torso, disturbing his life force beneath the skin, pulling it with me as I went. I felt his cock engorge even further as I tugged blood into it, massaging it in my hand.

"Oh, I've always had a love/hate relationship with these skills of yours," he groaned, obviously uncomfortable yet aroused. He fisted a handful of my hair, pulling, returning a portion of his pain. I refused to relent, however, not wanting to take it easy on him after his fine performance earlier. A grin cracked across my face as I reveled in his labored breathing and trembling body.

Unfortunately for me, Zevran took a lot of punishment before begging for any type of release, and I had no desire to push him to that limit. In fact, I wanted nothing more than a lazy session of satisfying, mutual lust. My body had sorely missed just his presence next to me. I had woken up many nights just like that one, groping at the sheets next to me only to find them cold and empty.

I flipped onto my other side, facing him, forming a familiar yin-yang. His blood ebbed back into his body as I released it, and I heard him gasp and felt him shudder. I didn't give him enough time to consider being irritated with me; my mouth closed over the head of his cock, and I immediately began pumping it with my hand. I circled my tongue around the swollen shaft, adoring the pulsations that spread through his veins.

I expected him to say something, but he surprised me by gorging himself on my prick, swallowing it down to the hilt. It was difficult not to bite down on him, overcome with the pleasure. I had fantasized far too often of his oral prowess during his absence, imagining how effortlessly he could devour all of me and still keep his eyes locked onto mine. I yearned for the eye contact, but contented myself with the knowledge that I would have it eventually.

He pulled me further against him, cupping my ass in his hand, shoving me down his throat. With forceful fingers digging into my hip, he shoved me away, giving himself time to breathe. He panted, sniffling, and I was sure that he had tears in his eyes.

Lovingly, I stroked up and down his body, hoping to express my appreciation in some way. I continued sucking him, trying to emulate his enthusiasm. His balls tightened up against him, and I pet them, urging him to come as soon as he wanted.

His skin became so hot that I was afraid it was my own doing, but I realized soon enough that it was his desire alone. It was startling how lost in thought I became while engrossed in pleasing him, and it was even more startling that my irresponsibility could indeed kill him. I disconnected myself fully from the magic part of my brain, focusing on my less civilized qualities. It had been so long...

After developing a certain rhythm with my head, my hips fell into one to match, slowly fucking his face. He did the same, and I allowed him to crash his pelvis into me like a wave. As our motions increased, so did our breathing and groaning, and I poured my soul into simply giving.

A hot jet rushed down my throat, and all of the memories that went along with its taste rushed through me as well. I swallowed it greedily, licking the remnants from him.

He held me deep in his throat, undoubtedly dying for air, shallowly jerking me in and out. His desperate moaning vibrated around my cock, sending me over the edge. He drained me, taking much more time than I had.

We laid there, panting, clutching each other's hips against us, basking in the afterglow. We didn't need to be face-to-face to feel connected.

Sleep was an ever threatening enemy, seducing me, and I found it increasingly difficult not to succumb to its offer. I felt my leaden body shift, and the warmth from my front dissipate. I vaguely remember searching for that lost heat, finding it eventually. It pressed against me, cradling me, kissing me, scooping me so close that I felt that I was inside of it. I heard it whisper something to me, but I didn't listen; I only felt. The warmth turned to numbness, and the lack of sensation was indeed one of the most comforting feelings that I had ever been consumed by.

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