A huge thank you to my beta reader, WellspringCD, not only for her comma expertise, but for her great idea of the break-in to Loghain's estate and its consequences. To all those who read and, particularly those who comment and encourage, my thanks; you all keep me plugging away at this.
Zevran and Fearghal made their way out of the alley and set off for the Pearl, still grinning at Alistair's reaction. It didn't take long to get there, as it lay between the market district and the docks. Zevran led the way to the room he'd reserved and helped Fearghal out of the heavy plate armour. Ignoring Zevran's admiring glances, Fearghal quickly donned the old splint mail that Zevran had brought to the room earlier. The bouncers on the door did a double-take when the pair re-emerged from the brothel so quickly, but they'd seen stranger things and didn't remark on it.
It took longer to get to the Teyrn of Gwaren's estate. Neither Fearghal nor Zevran knew the back streets of Denerim well, and they were forced to stick to the larger roads until they reached the affluent part of Denerim.
"I know my way from here," murmured Fearghal, leading them down a side street. There were few people about and both men felt exposed and conspicuous. They emerged onto a broad avenue, opposite the gate to the Gwaren estate. The gates were firmly shut. A light shone from the small gatehouse.
"The wall, it is broken over there, see?" whispered Zevran, pointing. The night was so dark, it was impossible for Fearghal to see the where Zevran indicated.
"I'll take your word for it, I don't have your night vision," said Fearghal with a shrug and followed him as quietly as he could, flinching at every jingle of his armour.
Finally they stood against the wall to the estate, looking up. The gate was near enough to make Fearghal nervous, but the lamplight from the gatehouse clearly showed the two guards engrossed in a game of cards.
Fearghal tipped his head back. "How do we get over? It's at least ten feet high?" he whispered.
Zevran knelt on one knee facing Fearghal. "Stand on my shoulders. When I stand, you should be able to pull yourself up."
Fearghal regarded the slim elf doubtfully. "Are you sure you can take my weight?"
"I am stronger than I look," replied Zevran with a sly grin.
Praying that Zevran wouldn't drop him, Fearghal clambered up onto Zevran's shoulders. He heard Zevran grunt, then he started to rise. Fearghal's heart lurched as he felt the elf stagger slightly, then he had hold of the top of the wall and pulled himself on to it. Fearghal straddled the wall, then leaned down and stretched out his hand. With a run and a jump, Zevran grasped Fearghal's wrist and the big warrior pulled him up. They took a moment on top of the wall to make sure there was no-one nearby and then lowered themselves down the other side.
Crouching low, they swiftly crossed the grounds to the large mansion. As they progressed around the house, Zevran checked windows. Finally he found one that rattled slightly and grinned, white teeth flashing in the dim moonlight. He drew a small dagger from his boot and inserted it between the window and the frame, flipping the loose catch open. Quickly, both men climbed inside and Zevran pulled the window shut behind them. They appeared to be in a storeroom. It smelled slightly musty and crates were piled up against the walls.
"Wait here, my friend. I will go and have a look around. I'll be back in a few minutes."
The minutes ticked by and Fearghal became more impatient as they passed. Impatience gave way to anxiety. What if he's been discovered? Fearghal hadn't heard the alarm being raised, but it was a large house and the walls were thick. His hand went to his sword as the door opened, then he heaved a sigh of relief as Zevran slipped inside.
"Maker's breath, Zev! What took you so long?" hissed Fearghal.
The elf shrugged and grinned. "I was not gone so long. Did you miss me?" At Fearghal's scowl, he became serious. "Really, it was only ten minutes. I forget, you are not used to this. Anyway, I have found the teyrn's office. As far as I can tell, what few staff have been retained are abed. Come." Zevran beckoned and slipped back out of the door.
Fearghal followed the elf as quietly as he could. Zevran led him down a side passage, then another. The house was old and full of twists and turns; it reminded Fearghal a little of Castle Cousland. Fearghal was grateful he wasn't here alone, he wasn't sure he'd ever find his way out.
Zevran opened a door and Fearghal found himself inside a large office. The room was pitch black and Fearghal didn't dare move as he closed the door behind him.
"Wait," murmured Zevran. Fearghal heard soft scuffling, then one of the heavy shutters at the window drew back, admitting pale moonlight. As his eyes adjusted Fearghal could see a solid-looking desk in front of the window. He crossed the room and watched as Zevran tried the drawers, which were locked.
Fearghal grew more and more nervous as Zevran drew out a set of lockpicks and inserted them into the keyhole of the top drawer. The assassin jiggled the lockpick, which suddenly snapped; he swore softly in Antivan.
"Come on, Zev," hissed Fearghal.
The assassin looked sheepish. "You remember our conversation... after the ambush?"
"What about it?"
"I may have... exaggerated slightly. About my skill with picking locks, anyway. I really do know twelve massage techniques."
"Maker's cock, Zevran! You wait until now to tell me?" burst out Fearghal. "This is why you wanted Leliana along, isn't it?"
"Ssssh!" Zevran waved frantically at Fearghal, trying to get him to lower his voice. "She has been giving me instruction, but as you can see, I'm not as good as she is yet."
Fearghal said nothing, but drew his sword and jammed it into the top of the drawer, forcing it open. He did the same with the other two drawers. Zevran winced at the noise, but unless this was to be a completely wasted trip, it was the only thing to do. Fearghal rifled through the drawers, pulling out papers and piles of letters and setting them on the desk.
"There's no vial here," he said glumly. He sifted through the papers. Recognising the hand writing on some of the letters, he tucked them into his armour. "These are from Howe," he explained, seeing Zevran's curious look.
"Let's get out of here," said Zevran. He went to the window to close the shutter and was startled to see a face peering in at them. A wide-eyed guard stared at him for an instant, then shouted in alarm and set off running, heading for the door.
"Shit!" Fearghal looked out of the window and spied a tree growing near the wall. "Do you think we can get over the wall there?" he asked Zevran.
Zevran scanned the grounds quickly and nodded. "As long as we're careful and don't slip onto a spike."
Fearghal flung open the other shutter. "Stand back." He drew his shield and raised it high, in front of his face, then charged at the window, punching the shield through it with a tremendous crash. He smashed bits of broken wood out of the way, slung his shield on his back again and jumped out of the window.
Together, they raced towards the tree. Fearghal cupped his hands and gave Zevran a leg up, then jumped and grabbed a branch and pulled himself up. As quickly as they dared, they climbed the tree, then made their way along a branch that almost touched the wall. Zevran stepped across onto the wall, between two wickedly sharp spikes, then jumped down onto the road. There was a loud crack as Fearghal started to step across. He lurched slightly as the branch gave way, grasping a spike to keep his balance. His heart hammering beneath his armour, he jumped down to where Zev waited.
At the sound of a yell they looked down the road to see several guards erupting from the gate to the teyrn's estate.
Fearghal grabbed Zevran's arm. "This way!" He set off running down the broad pavement, dragging the elf after him. He turned into a side street, then another and another. He ran as fast as he could, fear lending him an extra burst of speed. Zevran was bewildered as Fearghal led the way down an dark alley, along a high wall. Clouds blew across sky, obscuring what little moonlight there was. Fearghal slowed slightly, running his hand along the wall. Abruptly he disappeared, pulling Zevran after him. He pulled him into an L-shaped niche in the wall, holding him tight against his side. Fearghal struggled to quiet his noisy breathing as he heard loud footsteps running along the alley.
"They turned in 'ere, I swear!"
"Well they ain't 'ere now. I's a dead end. They can't 'ave come down 'ere," said a second voice with obvious disgust.
"But I saw them!"
"What? They jus' walked through the fucking wall? You useless tosser. They'll be long gone by now." The voice faded as the footsteps receded back up the alley.
Fearghal slumped against the door that was behind him. He had a wild desire to laugh.
Zevran stirred and Fearghal loosened his grip. "What is this place?"
"It's my family's estate... or, it was. I remember hiding from Fergus here when I was a boy. There's a door there, into the grounds."
Fearghal sighed, his elation at their escape fading. He flinched as a warm hand cupped his face.
"You are not to be sad, my Warden. Not tonight. We have escaped Loghain's guards, yes?"
In spite of himself, he leaned into the contact. It felt like an eternity since someone had touched him. His arm tightened around Zevran again. "Zevran... Zev... I... "
"I know; I am not your type, Warden." The assassin's voice held a hint of amusement.
Fearghal pulled Zevran against him, wrapping his arms tightly around the elf; he felt strange in his arms, too small. But strong. Fearghal lowered his head, feeling silky hair under his cheek. The hair moved against his face then a pair of warm lips brushed against his. Fearghal's heart hammered in his chest as a wave of longing swept through him. Ignoring that voice in the back of his head that was telling that this was a really bad idea, Fearghal dipped his head and explored Zevran's mouth, revelling in the sensation of the warm, pliant lips under his own.
Fearghal felt Zevran pull away slightly.
"There is a perfectly good room at the Pearl going to waste. Maybe we should... use it?" suggested Zevran, his voice husky.
"Let's go," said Fearghal gruffly. Zevran looked up and down the alley before he stepped out from the niche. Not speaking, they hurried back towards the Market district. As they reached it Fearghal swore softly; there were guards everywhere.
"I would guess that the Arl has discovered his bullion has been stolen," said Zevran dryly.
"Let's just go back to Teagan's," suggested Fearghal, anxious to avoid the guards. Zevran nodded and they turned round, heading back to Teagan's house, each trying to look as if they weren't hurrying.
When they arrived back at Teagan's house, it was in darkness except for a small lamp burning in the lobby. Fearghal shut the door quietly and turned the key in the lock, wincing at the loud click. He removed his shield and set it down, then pulled his gauntlets off and dropped them on top of it. Fearghal turned to see Zevran watching him carefully.
Fearghal reached for him, drawing him close. "You really aren't my type, you know..." He felt Zevran press against him, and dipped his head, drawing his tongue along the edge of a delicate ear, nibbling gently at the pointed tip. A thrill ran through him as Zevran shuddered, his breath hitching.
"I just need to... to touch...to feel... to feel alive. You understand?" murmured Fearghal, stumbling over the words.
Zevran leaned back and looked up at Fearghal, nodding. "I understand. This is... just a moment." He grinned. "I have always been a man to seize the moment." Zevran reached up, grasping the back of Fearghal's head, pulling him down into a slow, languid kiss. Fearghal gave himself up to the kiss, felt the lips under his mouth part. A tongue flicked against his own and his hunger grew.
"You're back then. Hey, where's your armour? What... oh!"
Fearghal ignored the voice, the retreating footsteps along the landing, the door slamming. Instead he focussed his attention on the man in his arms, pressing Zevran tightly against him, revelling in the sensation of just being close to someone again. Fearghal growled in frustration at the two layers of armour that separated him from the man in his arms. He wanted to feel him, feel the heat of his body, feel skin under his hands. Reluctantly, Fearghal dragged his head back.
"I think we need some privacy," he rasped hoarsely, releasing his grip on Zevran.
The elf nodded and grabbed the lamp, ascending the stairs quietly. Fearghal followed, unable to resist running a hand up the tanned thigh ahead of him.
Zevran paused on the landing. "Such a shame that the biggest bed in the house is already occupied."
A shadow passed over Fearghal's face. "I'd rather not sleep in that bed."
"While not so large, mine is big enough for two," purred Zevran opening to door to his room. He crossed the room and set the lamp down on the small table by the bed.
Fearghal followed Zevran into his room and closed the door quietly behind him. With trembling fingers he tugged at the straps on his armour. He sat on the bed and pulled his boots and socks off, trying to steady his breathing. Fearghal swiftly removed his armour, throwing it carelessly on to the floor. His mouth went dry when he turned to watch Zevran, who was removing his armour more slowly, the movements deliberate and graceful. Piece by piece the elf the elf removed his leather armour, watching Fearghal's eyes darken, until he was clad in only a thin linen shirt and a scanty pair of braies. Not taking his eyes off the elf, Fearghal stood and pulled his shirt over his head.
Zevran moved to do the same, but Fearghal reached out and stopped him. He pulled the elf close and tugged the shirt down, exposing a golden shoulder. Fearghal leaned down, dropping kisses along the exposed shoulder, along Zevran's collar bone, savouring the smooth skin with his lips and tongue. His lips came to rest against the pulse beating in Zevran's neck, teeth nipping gently, lips smiling against the skin as he felt the assassin's pulse rate increase under his mouth.
Moving on, his lips whispered along the elf's jaw until he found the soft mouth. Shuddering, struggling to restrain the impulse to plunder and ravage, Fearghal kissed Zevran deeply as his hands started to roam under the assassin's shirt. Fearghal groaned with longing as he felt hands brush lightly over his back, then down over his backside, squeezing and kneading, gently at first, then increasingly insistent.
Breaking the kiss, Fearghal grasped Zevran's shirt and tugged it upwards. The elf released him only to lift his arms, then Fearghal flung the shirt to one side and crushed Zevran against him. His hands roamed over the golden skin, feeling the lithe muscles underneath move as the assassin explored him in similar fashion. Zevran felt as slender as any woman, but there was nothing soft about him. Under warm, smooth skin, Fearghal could feel the compact, corded muscle.
Fearghal felt the tension leeching out of him and almost sagged against Zevran. Memories, dark thoughts, all fled as he bathed in the golden skin against him, awash in the sensation of touching and being touched. He breathed in the musky, slightly spicy aroma of the strong body pressed against him. Fearghal gasped as fingers tugged at the laces on his breeches and quested inside. He groaned again as he felt a hand enclose him, stroking firmly. His legs trembled as a wave of desire blazed through his veins, like fire.
Fearghal tore his hands reluctantly from silken skin to push his breeches and braies down, then tugged at Zevran's underwear, grasping the hardened flesh within. Zevran moaned loudly as Fearghal's callused hand encircled him and started to move. Zevran edged towards the bed, bringing Fearghal after him. He sank gratefully on to it and Fearghal almost collapsed at his side.
Fearghal leaned over Zevran, kissing him deeply, then explored the assassin's body with his mouth. Sucking, biting, kissing. He followed the path marked out by the tattoos that swirled down Zevran's body. He heard Zevran gasp and moan, felt his body writhing under his mouth, his hands. His senses narrowed until he was only aware of hard muscles playing under skin; gasps and moans rang in his ears as he tasted and caressed the body moving beneath him. He felt Zevran shift, his body twisting as he fumbled with something on the bedside table, then a vial was pressed into his hand.
Fearghal twisted the lid and drizzled the light oil onto his fingers, then passed the vial back to Zevran. Shifting down the bed slightly, he bent his head and nuzzled the elf's cock. He felt Zevran's hips lift and slipped an oiled finger inside him as he took the elf in his mouth. A stream of husky Antivan flowed from the elf's lips as Fearghal's mouth and finger sent jolts of pleasure through him. Fearghal felt a burst of gratification at Zevran's enthusiastic response.
Fearghal raised his head. "Are you ready?" he asked hoarsely. Zevran nodded and Fearghal held out his hand for the vial.
Zevran grinned at him. "Allow me," he offered. He twisted the cap off the vial and poured into his palm, then set it aside and reached down, his oiled palm stroking Fearghal, coating him in oil. Fearghal groaned and tensed at Zevran's touch. Zevran released him and leaned back.
Fearghal knelt between his legs and grasped his hips, pulling him lower down the bed. Zevran drew his knees up and clasped them, then moaned as Fearghal entered him. Fearghal groaned loudly as penetrated the elf. "Oh, sweet Andraste!" He held himself still until he felt the elf relax underneath him, then he started to move slowly. Each stroke drew loud, shuddering groans from both men. Fearghal kept the pace slow, savouring the ecstasy that flooded through him as he drew back slowly, then thrust forwards. He grasped the Zevran's ankles and rested them on his broad shoulders, running his hands up and down the golden thighs.
A meaningless babble of Antivan streamed from the elf's mouths punctuated with a loud moan every time Fearghal thrust into him. Fearghal groaned as he felt the elf tighten around him, pushing against him, urging him to go faster. Gradually Fearghal picked up the pace, his hand encircling the elf's cock as the elf's moans of pleasure implored him to go faster, harder. Fearghal could no longer tell where he ended and Zevran began; which moans fell from his mouth and which were the elf's.
All his reserve gone, Fearghal pounded into the elf's body, until he felt him stiffen and cry out, milky liquid pumping over his belly. As the elf convulsed around him, Fearghal gave himself up to his own orgasm and, almost shouting, buried his face against Zevran's neck, pulsing deep inside the elf. As the waves of his pleasure receded, Fearghal pulled back, then sank down onto the bed trembling.