Chapter 6: Stress Relief

Cat yawned and stretched her tired body. It had been a long day, and most of it had been spent behind closed doors with the Arl, Bann Teagan and Alistair, trying to work out a strategy for the Landsmeet. Politics bored her, and she was itching to leave the castle, to get back on the road. Still, they would need a few more days to restock, make plans, get ready.

Zevran was late tonight, and she missed him. It had been five days since they'd arrived at Redcliffe, five nights she'd spent in his arms. Her body was already used to his touch, she realized, blushing at the recollection of the things he had done to her, the things he'd made her do to him. She ached for the sensation of his hands on her skin, feeling an emptiness ache inside her, just waiting to be filled.

It wasn't just his body she longed for, though. After they made love they would talk for hours. At first it had been mostly pleasant banter, with her talking of the many occasions when she had outwitted her strict mother, or him discreetly describing some amorous or felonious exploit.

Later they'd touched on darker subjects: the death of her family, her nightmares of the Archdemon, the things the Crows had made him do. It was so easy to talk to him that it seemed as if they'd shared most of their lives in those few nights.

Zevran was pacing the length of his room, fighting an internal battle between the wish to see her and a twisted professional pride. There he was, the famous assassin, seducer of ladies all over Thedas, and he couldn't wait to be with her. He could just imagine Taliesin's sneer. According to everything his teachers had taught him he should have stayed away after two or three nights, letting her pine for him, increasing her desire even more. Instead, he hadn't been able to keep his hands off her, like some lovestruck schoolboy.

He shook his head in disbelief, but then his features softened as his gaze fell upon the soft leather boots she'd given him on their return from Haven. They were made from the finest Antivan leather, the most thoughtful present anyone had ever given him. It was then that he realized that he was acting like a fool. She wasn't one of his conquests, no mark that he was seducing in order to kill her later. Remembering how tired she had seemed at dinner, he grabbed a little flask from his pack and set off toward her room.

At the sight of him her face lit up. "Zev! Where have you been?"

He took her in his arms, his earlier thoughts forgotten. "Did you miss me?"

She kissed him softly, her lips teasing his. "I was almost afraid the Arlessa had set a trap for you," she joked. "The way she was looking at me today, I'm pretty sure she suspects something. I guess the maids have been talking."

He frowned at her words, but she laughed off his concern. "Oh come on, Zev, the worst that can happen is another lecture on my duties as a nobleman's daughter. I can deal with that. She can't possibly be more bothersome than my mother." Her face took on a mischievous grin. "You know, when King Cailan came to visit us, years ago, Mother insisted I wear a purple brocade dress. She'd go on and on until I finally made sure I wouldn't be presentable for the occasion."

Zevran looked at her, an indulgent smile on his face. "What did you do?"

She smiled happily. "Cut off my hair. It went down to my waist before, but I trimmed it like a boy's. They had to hide me for weeks."

Zevran chuckled, though he felt a tinge of regret at the thought of that red mane. He could just imagine her, clad in nothing but her tresses...

"Anyway," she continued. "I'm not going to let that blue-blooded bitch keep me from wasting away my nights with a handsome Antivan assassin. What do you have in mind tonight?" Despite her beguiling words, she couldn't quite suppress a yawn, and he realized she hadn't got much sleep lately.

"Something special, just for you," he replied softly, quickly helping her out of her clothes. "Lie down on the bed for me, will you?"

She looked up intrigued as he took the tiny flask of scented oil from his pocket, and softly began spreading it over her back and shoulders. The sweet aroma of sandalwood filled the room as he began to massage her, very thoroughly, loosening all the knots and kinks in her back before moving on to her arms and legs.

He paid special attention to her curved buttocks, before he gently turned her over and started on her front. She sighed happily as his hands deftly moved all over her, slowly circling her breasts and her navel. When he focussed on her nipples, the warm oil making his fingers slick and slippery, her breathing grew faster. He kissed her tenderly as his hands wandered deeper and he began exploring between her legs, eliciting small happy sighs from her.

When he judged her ready, he turned her over on her side, threw off his clothes and wrapped himself around her, the touch of her warm oiled body all the stimulation he needed. Slowly, inch by inch, he entered her from behind, his hand reaching around her and caressing her in soft slow strokes. She gasped and pressed back against him. He kept his movements soft and smooth, her body tensing gradually under his hands until she began to quiver all over.

He moved a little away from her then, positioning his body at a right angle to hers, so that he could move more freely. His upper thigh gently slid between hers, increasing the pressure on her soft mound, and she responded immediately. He was moving only a tiny bit faster now, watching the dreamy expression on her face, still keeping to a subtle, almost sedate pace, but he could feel the tension in her increase steadily, until she finally arched up against him with a long sweet moan and he felt her relax all over. With a contented sigh he turned her over on her belly, and with a few swift strokes found his own release.

She felt entirely boneless in his arms, and she fell asleep almost immediately. He looked down in wonder at her serene face, her long white neck, her soft skin, once again amazed at how much she trusted him. Even though he'd told her about Rinna, she'd placed her life in his hands without hesitation. And she was right, he realized. He could no more have killed her than he could have cut out his own heart.