Zevran was not accustomed to waking up so intimately entangled with someone. He laid there for a while, just feeling what it was like. Nyla was curled up with her back to him, outside of the blankets; Zevran had no idea he was a blanket thief.
Enjoying the way his little spoon was snug against him, he sighed and breathed in the scent of her hair. He started to get unfairly, achingly hard; only storybook women actually smelled like lavender. It was ridiculous, She actually smells like fucking lavender. A hint of something minty, maybe peppermint or... eucalyptus? Grateful for the plush blanket between them, he pulled away. She was so warm, and it made getting out of bed even harder; Zevran hated being cold. That damned skirt was up, exposing the lower half of her ass cheeks and he grit his teeth, and covered her up. She was too cute as she slept. Too fucking cute. Too innocent. And what a great ass! He needed to draw her.
Sitting in his chair, he reclined his legs on the edge of the bed and tried to remember the song she said was in her head last night. He put in his earbuds and typed in Sanctuary on his phone browser, it came up on the top hits. Utada. Kingdom Hearts soundtrack… does she like this game? He found the song on youtube and put it on loop. In you and I there's a new land… It was a dreamy song, like her, and pencil strokes felt so satisfying, scratching along the paper. Where fears and lies melt away… Zevran enjoyed having her in his periphery as he drew her to this dreamy song. Even though he needed coffee, he didn't want to wake her by opening the door.
Muse was in his bed, resting peacefully, being his muse and his… he didn't know what to call her. It was too soon to call her anything, though he felt the impulse. She stretched out restlessly, laying on her back with a sigh, and her arm flopped across the pillow above her head. It was cute, and when she settled, she looked graceful, surrounded by the plush white of his bedcovers. Zevran wondered if he was creepy, watching her sleep like this. But it felt innocent. It felt like… reverence; surely, revering beauty wasn't creepy.
It only took forty-five minutes for him to draw her to satisfaction. His speed was improving, this was good. He did something new; he wrote the next words from the song that he was listening to, just to give himself a more clear memory of his first morning waking up with her… and he noticed his assumption there would be more. Music will tie, what's left of me now… And for the first time, he wondered with a full heart what had happened to her. What fire? And wait… where was her family? Friends? Who would she have called for help yesterday if he hadn't gone to her? Why is a psych major writing poetry, dancing and working as a waitress in San Francisco?
Intentionally slowing down his thoughts, he was beginning to build a mental image of her with her not even there, and it wasn't fair to her. He was staring at her and caring about her, he just sketched her sleeping form, and he was feeling impatient in waiting to know her better, to watch her unfold. A mere twenty-four hours ago she was only his muse and now she was that and more and Zevran was fucking done for and he was absolutely cool with it, GOD DAMMIT LELIANA!
Her eyes popped open and she sat up with a sharp breath. Her eyes were afraid until she met his, and it all came back to her. Zevran's sacred space, and he had invited her; she was excited.
"Hey." She smiled. "You even wake up gorgeous. Jesus." She looked around his room, eyes sweeping over his paintings. "It does feel like a sunburn. Lay with me and talk about this art you have done. Tell me what it means so I don't get it wrong."
"First things first." He smirked at her, and she bit her lip. Loving her attraction to him, he plugged speakers into his iPhone, and Sanctuary played for her. He grabbed some Tylenol from his drawer, fresh bandage, and some Aquaphor to smooth over her healing leg.
"Thank you. This is so sweet." She whispered and took the Tylenol. Following his lead, she laid back for him to change her bandage. He wore rubber gloves, and she felt pampered, she felt his care as he gently smoothed the cream on her wounds. She could cry, just feeling the relief from the burning sensation, combined with having been at a deficit for physical contact and affection for so long. Nyla's heart fluttered when she realized he had looked up the song looping in her head ever since his hand met her thigh last night at the tattoo parlor. When the song ended, it played again and she covered her face with her hands to hide her desire to cry.
She always looped the song stuck in her head and listened to it until the urge was satisfied, and something about this moment just hit her. Unobtainable hotness was taking care of her in the sweetest of ways, on so many levels, and it was just happening so naturally. She needed to write. The bed moved with his weight on it, and Zevran curled up with her, his chin on his hands resting on her belly.
"Hey." Zevran smiled. "You look sad."
"I'm not." Nyla lied, biting her lip nervously and then forcing a small smile.
"It wasn't a question." He smirked, letting her have her lie. "And I had no desire for you to look some other way."
"I assumed you did… your acceptance of what is, is so beautiful." She burned to read her poem to him, she had no words otherwise. "What's that painting about? Why did you choose to paint Sutro Tower?" She asked, trying to change the subject, to pull away just a little from too much intimacy when she hadn't even had her morning coffee and cigarette.
"Mmm. That one is my favorite. When I first moved here, it was a landmark for me, and a comfort to see something so familiar no matter where I was. When I lived in a basement apartment for a short time, I missed seeing it whenever I wanted to."
"It's my favorite, too, so far. You know, I chose my apartment because I can see tower from my bedroom window." Nyla reached down and tucked his hair behind his ear, stroked his forearms, stared at his lips too long. Don't mention how hot he is anymore, Nyla it's getting ridiculous. "I'm so attracted to you. God dammit."
"I know!" Zevran chuckled, smiling at her brightly. "Always devouring me with your big eyes. I love it!"
"You would!" She spoke with good humor, and her eyes wandered to another painting. "That one, a thunderstorm? Storm clouds? That isn't San Francisco, is it?"
"No, that is something I saw on a Greyhound bus, I'm not sure where we were. A green place, rolling hills, thunderclouds." His stomach quivered with nervousness imagining telling her the truth. "I was on my way to San Francisco, and seeing such a landscape, so much darkness, stirring, a cleansing storm to blow away the wasteland so something fresh can be built in its place… I imagined that was what my heart looked like in that moment, and I wept. I felt hope for the first time in so long."
Nyla stared at it for a long time in silence. Feeling the darkness, the stirring, the hope that comes after surviving total obliteration, and when she looked back at him, his relaxed and humble face was somehow more beautiful, more sweet, innocent, and so utterly human.
"My first take on this painting, Zev," she melted into his gaze and ran long fingers through his hair. "Was trepidation, longing, loneliness. But I did not see the hope… and now that I do, this is my favorite so far, and beautiful for far more than its colors."
"It feels good to tell these things to you. And I can't stop thinking about how you're still not wearing any panties." He smiled and laid his cheek on her belly affectionately.
She didn't feel like laughing, caught up in his stormy painting, wondering what total obliteration occurred that had him flee to San Francisco, what caused his weeping. She barely heard herself ask the question. "Deflecting with humor or hinting at wanting sex?"
"Nyla." He chuckled and pressed his forehead on her stomach. "So direct, forcing me to tell on myself. I was deflecting with humor." He lifted her shirt just enough to have access to bare skin. He pressed a sweet kiss to her belly and pulled her shirt back down. "When I did that, your muscles here," he rested a palm on her solar plexus, "they tightened. I'm imagining you need to feel a certain level of safety to fully give in to sex. Or… those muscles are telling something else. Or both."
"I won't tell you. You have to puzzle it out. So you're not with me right now because you're hoping to get laid, that feels good. Your intentions with me are becoming more clear." She bit her lip and smiled wide with a giggle when he tilted his head at her, his cheeks heated and pink. "Gotcha."
"Sometimes the things you say thrill me and make me want to scream. Other times they make me nervous and make me want to scream. Ultimately, I just end up with a hard-on."
"Okay. Yes. Okay. Oh my god…" Nyla laughed heartily. "We have all of that in common."
"Why do you see everything?" He laughed and sat up, straddled her and leaned over her. "I'm about to kiss the fuck out of you right now, for a long time."
"Bring it on, pretty boy." Nyla giggled, "Then breakfast tacos? I'm starving."
"You must say everything, hmm? No filters at all?" Zevran chuckled against her mouth, only brushing her lips with his.
"Yes, I must say everything." Her hands wandered along his arms. "Tease. Kiss me already."
"And why is that," he purred, low and sultry, his lips barely touching hers as he spoke. "Why must my Waitress speak everything?"
"Private." He was driving her crazy, fuck she wanted those lips on hers, and her skin was humming with neediness bordering on pitiful.
"Tell Zevran anyway." He whispered, teasing again with the brush of his lips, his hand went around her hip, carressing upward, his hand wandering up her shirt, resting a palm on the bare skin of her solar plexus. "Tell me a secret, my Waitress."
"Because…" she whimpered when his lips brushed her jaw. "Because we will all be gone someday, and we don't know when. I want nothing left unsaid. So I say it, just in case."
"Mmm." His nose drew a lazy line up her jaw and whispered, "This makes so much sense to me."
She sighed heavily, he kissed her cheek so softly, and whispered again, letting his lips brush against her ear, "Thank you." Nyla's belly quivered beneath his hand, letting out a small squeak, a sharp inhale, shuddering shoulders. "I got you. You gave me a challenge, no? To puzzle it out?" Zevran sat up and smiled down at her. "Nyla has little orgasms just from touch."
"You hush." She panted, pinked cheeks, biting her lip shyly. "I can't help it."
"How unfair! How many secret little orgasms has my Waitress had right in front of me, hmm?" he tickled her briefly, and chuckled jovially.
"I can't even tell you. Jesus." She chuckled breathlessly, "I'm very ticklish, please don't. Aren't you supposed to be kissing the fuck out of me a lot? And then taking me out for tacos?"
"Now wait, I want to talk about this." He plopped down beside Nyla leaning on an elbow to look down at her. "See, this is interesting to me, because orgasms, no matter how big or small, are not given. They are allowed."
"Yes, that seems right. When my body feels the impulse with you, I allow myself have the orgasm."
"That is beautiful, no?" He rested his head on the pillow next to hers.
"I… don't understand." She bit her lip and thought hard. "Why is this something to point at, to highlight, talk about? Why does this intrigue you?"
"Curiosity! When you have little orgasms, are you trusting me, or are you trusting yourself? Or do you trust yourself with me?"
"Mmm. You're asking why I roll with it?"
"Yes!" Zevran ran a hand through her hair, excited for this moment, excited to be hearing her, the music, excited to draw her thinking face later.
"Are you ready to hear too much information as I try to figure it out?" She furrowed her brow and bit her lip, prepared to lay herself bare.
"My favorite."
"I had a one-night-stand once about a year ago. It was very painful for my heart. The sex was weird and uncomfortable, I felt used even though it was totally consensual... told myself the next time I welcomed someone inside of me, I would be in love with them. Holding to this feels very difficult with you, because of how attracted I am to you. My body is practically screaming for you to fuck me, but my heart is telling me to slow down, to uphold the promise I made to myself. This is going to sound funny but bear with me… I feel... fucked just listening to you or looking at you, sometimes."
"Nyla!" Zevran laughed heartily. "Little orgasms without touching? At that rate, what happens when we actually get to the point of fucking?" He pulled her head to his, letting his forehead rest against hers, and he felt so... free.
"Zevran?" She needed him to stop talking. He had officially said too much. He was available to fall in love, and he was expecting them to; they had that in common. She felt very still, very tearful, and kissed him deeply.
"Mmm!" Zevran pulled away from the delicious kiss breathlessly, nervous as he had the same realization shortly after she did. "Too much talking and kissing, not enough tacos."
"And who made you arbiter of when there is too much or not enough?" Nyla surprised him with her strength, rolling them, and straddling him. Her eyes went wide with the burning of her tattoo, and feeling his erection through his thin sleep pants, pressed snug against her bare heat. Her body wanted to tremble, and her instinct was to withhold the energetic of her little orgasm. "You're right. Too much." And with that she jumped up with a nervous chuckle. "I need a cigarette."