Smut chapter. Woo~

Zevran awoke barely two hours later, not that such a thing was particularly new to him. Being an assassin and a Crow was detrimental to one's sleeping patterns, he found; all the training hammered into him to react to even the smallest of noises was incredibly valuable and had saved his sorry life more times than he could count. However, in camp, where there was almost constant noise, he found himself rousing from sleep several times a night, rather than the once or twice that was the norm.

Still, he didn't mind the interruption in the long run; there were very few moments when he was truly alone, and in the blackness of night, Zevran liked to lay in bed and let his mind wander. At times, it seemed his imagination had a vendetta against his sanity and willpower, but perhaps the entirety of his mind felt he had been through enough that eve. His eyelids fluttered close as he thought of sailing, fond smile on his lips as he longed for the sea air, stinging mist, and high winds – truthfully one of his favorite things to do.

He was drawn from his reverie by a shuffling noise outside his tent; his hand instinctively clasped the pommel of his dagger, hidden under his pillow, but soon relaxed. The moon was full that night, and the shadow that danced on the flaps of his tent was most definitely feminine, and far too slight to be either Morrigan or Leliana. Within a few seconds, Catherine entered his tent without a word, turning herself on her knees back towards the ties, cinching them closed again, before crawling on her hands and knees over to his side, laying herself onto her back to slip her trousers off.

The subtle, silver light of the moon flattered her bare legs, he noticed as his eyes took in her half-naked form. Zevran agilely slipped out from the cover of his bedroll, resting himself on top, staring at her... he honestly had no idea what to do; this was so very different from what he expected, or wanted, really. Catherine turned onto her side and wriggled herself into the crook of his arm; it wasn't an intimate gesture for either of them, of course, it was a matter of comfort. Her soft breasts pressed against his chest through her shift as she brought her lips to his in a desperate, heated tangled. Teeth clicked together and sank into soft flesh, hands began to explore, and somehow they managed to keep quiet. It wasn't odd for him to be a silent lover, even though he preferred to be responsive and receive responses in return, he was an assassin and more, often than not, he was having sex with someone who was already 'madly in love' with someone else.

She broke off the kiss messily, dotting wet pecks across his jaw, to his earlobe. The arm unintentionally wrapped around her tightened its hold as she dragged her tongue up the length of his ear; heat seemed to course directly from her tongue to his loins, and Zevran's hand gripped onto her hip in an attempt to keep himself from moaning out. Her soft, plush lips wrapped around the very tip and suckled, nipping with just enough teeth to cause him to gasp – Maker she knew her way around an elven body.

As lovely as her attentions were, Zevran was not one to be outdone. His unoccupied hand rested on the curve of her waist, sensually sliding across her ribs towards her breasts, only to be caught by the wrist, rather firmly.

The woman pulled herself away from her ministrations, not bothering to look at him. She shook her head as if she saw his questioning raise of the brow, acting like that motion answered anything and everything all at once; Zevran was sorely tempted to give her a spanking for being so thoroughly frustrating. Or, at least, that's what he would have suggested, had Catherine not brought his fingers to her swollen mouth. His eyes drifted shut as her deliciously warm tongue curled around his index finger, before taking it into her mouth. Zevran's steady breathing quickly became stifled panting as he thought of her talents being put to use a good deal South. After a time, she repeated her actions on his middle and ring finger as well, then guided his hand down to her abdomen before releasing control.

He understood the unspoken plea, though it only confused him more – he had never met a woman who only wanted the bare necessities of foreplay before. Before he could think too much on it, he skimmed his hand down, pulling the hem of her shift up over the swell of her hips with his other hand, as his wet fingers delved through her curls and began slowly caressing her. Catherine whimpered appreciatively, immediately replying with violent, desperate jerks of her hips, as if being touched as all she ever wanted. Quiet, pathetic simpering noises left her mouth as she clenched her eyes shut, pressing her forehead against his shoulder.

Whatever ailed her, she was not idle in the least. One hand crept down his chest, dusting him with feather-light touches that made his muscles clench. Her hips demanded he increase his pace as she unlaced his already quite loose pants and slid home, palm grinding expertly on his hardening length. Zevran slid two fingers into her moistening heat, smugly reveling in the barely audible moan that escaped her as his thumb circled the her little bud. Despite her odd behavior, it was obvious when she wrapped her hand completely around his ready flesh that she didn't savor being shown-up, either.

Far too quickly for his liking, Catherine seemed to notice she was more than prepared for finalizing their coupling. Roughly, she tugged his trousers down just far enough for his member to spring free, and in an instant, she was straddling him, wasting no time with teasing looks or subtle touches. Her hips pressed down slowly, allowing the very tip of him a taste of her, before forcing herself down in a quick, but measured stroke. Zevran's rolled back, the sudden sensation of intense pleasure and warmth was incredible. His hands instinctively sought out her thighs as she began to quickly pump herself up and down, twisting her hips in with such mastery that even he was caught off guard. However, the moment his hands brushed against her bare skin, she seemed to snap.

Again, Catherine grasped him by the wrist, though this time she used one hand for each, slamming them to the ground and keeping them pinned by leaning in. Her hair covered their faces like an ebony curtain, but he could see her eyes – or rather, her eyelids. The mage's eyes were clenched shut so tightly, her entire forehead wrinkled, and even still, she had her head turned away from his face slightly. He knew that look, he had used it often enough with whores after Rinna had died. It was detachment.

Even as he thrust up with equal fervor, he felt a familiar bitter, acidic bile rising in his throat; Zevran could tell he could have been anyone and she'd be on top of him, regardless. He had no idea why that mattered but it did and despite the fact he could have gotten out of her pathetic excuse for a grapple, he continued to lay there. With all the strength he could muster, he pounded into her ruthlessly, only barely holding back the animalistic growls that were begging to leap from his throat.

She didn't cry out in surprise, or even seem startled from his change; her only response was to meet his strokes with equally hate-laced thrusts, digging her sharp nails into his arms so hard, there was sure to be blood.

Sweat covered their bodies as the battle went on, her shift clung to the lines and curves of her enticing body, crinkling with her frenzied movements. They were both close, the building tension in his abdomen began to crack as he felt her walls close in on him. Catherine rammed herself down on his hips twice more, before her entire body shuddered with her orgasm. She made no noise, but rolled her hips in way of riding the aftershocks; three thrusts and one extremely powerful squeeze later, he found his release as well, erratically pressing up into her.

As they both caught their breath, his partner seemed to come out of her daze, looking at him with a dawning realization, pulling her hands back from his wrists as if she'd been burned. All things considered, she didn't seem particularly regretful, but neither did she seem satisfied. Her head bobbed, brow pinching together as she dismounted him hastily, grabbing her trousers. Being a short woman, she was able to stand in relative comfort as she clothed herself, still not speaking or even deigning to look at him.

For his part, Zevran did nothing but lay there, completely askew, mostly naked, and utterly baffled with a healthy mix of sticky in there as well. His throat was tight, but he could find no words, even if he felt he could speak with any dignity. She had been stressed, perhaps even scared, and used him for a distraction and for a release, likely the only way she knew how. That realization – while sympathetic – did nothing for the burning sensation between his ribs.

Catherine began untying the tent flaps methodically, oblivious to his thoughts. He shifted a bit and pulled up his trousers, not bothering with the mess; Zevran was too tired to care, too angry to bother. As she unfastened the last knot, she turned to look him in the eye for the first time since she entered his tent.

"Thank you." was all she said, in a low, measured voice, before turning back and leaving, not even bothering to close the tent.

Zevran was at a loss. She used him for comfort, and while he found his release, certainly, he didn't feel as if he had gotten anything from the encounter. He had fully expected sex with Catherine to be wild, passionate, and loud. Perhaps he got one of those this night, but even then... why did it feel like she had taken something from him?

His face scrunched in thought as her parting words finally registered. Zevran had been 'thanked' on occasion for his skills in bed, but... the was she spoke. It was so... genuine? He really wasn't sure what genuine was, except that, despite the fact Catherine had, indeed, used him, he didn't feel like she was using him.

He had no idea what that meant, but it was all his exhausted mind could think of.