"Do you want to talk about it?" asked Wynne, taking a seat beside Zevran.

"Talk about what, my dear woman?" he replied, tearing his eyes away from the campfire's flames before turning to smile at the circle mage. "I am fine, I assure you."

"My bosom does not agree."

Zevran could not believe his ears. Surely the old woman was not taking him serious, finally, was she? "Pardon?"

"You have not spoken of my magical bosom in over a week," she said with a mischievous smile.

He hoped this was Wynne's attempt at humor, as he was not in the mood for a proposition.

"Nor have you chided Leilana about her two years of abstinence, or tried to break through Morrigan's shell with flattery, " she continued.

He barely heard her. Did he just tell himself he wasn't in the mood for a proposition? When did this come about? He was never not in the mood! Even Wynne would have been an interesting tumble. She was in fine form for a woman her age and he'd always enjoyed the ardor of mages; their libidos were as caged as their bodies and once they found freedom, it was always quite an enjoyable ride, so to speak. By the Maker, what was his problem?

And then his eyes lit on Kallian coming up from the stream where she'd obviously been bathing. He wanted her. Only her.

He'd thought about bedding Kallian countless times since the day she had spared his life. The fantasies usually started with that day and the wonderful view he'd had as he begged her not to kill him. Even through her armor, he could see firm thighs as he'd stared up the skirt of her breastplate and he'd wondered what it would be like to have those thighs wrapped around his waist as he buried himself deep within her.

Those fantasies hadn't changed, but they were now the only ones he had. That had never happened before. Not even with Rinna.

He'd been mindful of Kallian's struggle since she'd bared her soul to him back in Denerim and he'd left off the teasing and mindless flirtations, not wanting to contribute to her continued discomfort. That he'd done consciously. But the rest? He barely recognized who he was anymore.

"Very well," Wynne said getting to her feet. "I'll leave you to your fire. Just know I'm here if you need to talk."

Her movement caught Zevran's attention. But only just. "Oh! Umm… yes, my dear woman. Thank you," he said, standing up himself. His eyes were still on Kallian as he started towards her, never even noticing Wynne's departure.

A smile lit up her face as he approached and his heart skipped a beat. She was beautiful with her long auburn hair coiled up in braided buns, and her large dark green eyes that sparkled like diamonds when she was happy and burned like emerald fire when she was not. He could lose himself in those eyes if he wasn't careful. Who was he kidding? He already had.

"What did the old biddy want?" Kallian asked, once he reached her side.

"Nothing," he said quickly. And then stopped. "No, I will not lie to you, my dear Warden. She is concerned about my recent change of behavior."

Kallian nodded, as if she knew what had been on Wynne's mind. "I was going to go gather firewood; care to join me?"

It was an offer to talk and he knew it. But, unlike Wynne or Leilana, Kallian would not pry. She would simply give him an opening; whether he chose to use it or not would be up to him.

"By all means," he replied, shocking himself. Did he want to discuss this with her? How could he even begin? 'Look, I have a problem. I've lost all interest in sex since learning your secret.' Yeah, that would go over well. Not. And besides that wasn't true. He'd just lost all interest in sex with anyone but her and he certainly couldn't tell her that. Although from the feel of his manhood swelling in his breeches just watching the sway of her hips as he followed her into the woods, he knew that for the absolute truth.

Once they were well away from camp she stopped and turned around. "You don't have to walk around on eggshells with me, Zevran."

He swallowed with difficulty, struggling to pull his mind away from his growing desire and focus on her words. "What do you mean, my friend?"

"You don't have change your behavior for fear of offending me. I know biting your tongue must be killing you."

"No," he said, taking a step closer to her. "What is killing me is being too afraid to show you how I feel… about you."

She looked up at him, perplexed. "What do you—"

His mouth was on hers, cutting off the rest of her words. He couldn't help it. The need for her was overwhelming.

She gasped and struggled at first, but his arms wrapped around her, locking her in a tight embrace as he guided her back against a tree. His kiss was hungry, needy. His lips bruised hers as he forced them apart, darting his tongue into her mouth, seeking her own.

Her struggles stopped. Her arms wrapped around his waist and her tongue sought out his in greedy abandon. He could feel her moan deep in her throat, sending a chill straight down his spine. There was nothing he wanted more than to take her, right here, right now. And he knew he could. He knew she would submit. But, was that what she really wanted? He didn't know and for the first time, that mattered more than his own wants and needs.

And so he pulled away. Maker's breath that was difficult. He reached down and found her hands, holding them in his as he pulled them from around his waist. He took a step back, not letting go of her hands and stared into her eyes.

"Do you want this?" he asked, barely able to speak.

She looked at him and he could see the pain and suffering from before, but he could also see desire in those pools of liquid emerald. His pulse quickened.

"Yes," she whispered, tugging on his hands, pulling him into her.

There was no more restraint. He was on her, in her, basking the warmth of her body.

He heard her gasp, felt her warmth spread, as ecstasy overcame her. That was it. The explosion that came after was the most intense feeling he had ever experienced. It was as if every past encounter had been a rehearsal for this one moment, with this one beautiful, fierce, wonderful woman.

Finally, it was done. He collapsed against her, his head resting in her bosom, feeling her heart race beneath that soft flesh. She stroked his hair and his scalp tingled, relishing the attention.

"Thank you," she whispered, leaning up to plant a soft kiss on the crown of his head.

He looked up at her, and nodded slowly. "No," he said. "It is I who should be thanking you. Never in all my experience, and as you well know that is no small thing, have I felt as you made me feel just now."

She blushed and then smiled coyly. "Well, perhaps we should test this again to determine whether or not this was a fluke."

Her words stirred his desire, amazing even him. He smiled back at her before leaning up for a kiss. "I am sure that can be arranged, mi amora."