Rivain was amazing.

Zevran had grown up on the seaside, near Antiva City, and he had missed the sea, more than he usually admitted to himself. The salty air, the cries of the seagulls, the heat of the sun on his bare skin – this was the life! Not like Ferelden, with its endless rain and snow, its muddy campsites and all those pesky layers of clothing.

Here they were, on a gorgeous beach overlooking Rialto Bay, with palm trees swaying gently in the breeze, soft music playing in the background, and exotic cocktails in their hands. True, the music was coming from an ancient ghetto blaster that tended to sound a bit wheezy, and the cocktails were the ready-made variety, drunk straight from the bottle. But Zevran had never been picky, and they certainly did the job. He was already feeling mildly drunk, even though the stuff in the bottle tasted no stronger than lemonade.

The others were in a good mood, too. They had been a little subdued at first, not quite comfortable with the idea of spending Satinalia on the beach, but that was long forgotten. Even Morrigan had actually giggled once or twice.

Both girls looked good in their skimpy bikinis, with lots and lots of soft creamy skin on display. Daveth, too, was a pleasant sight in his board shorts, lean and fit, if a little pale. Sunburns waiting to happen for all of them, if they're not careful. In contrast, Sten wasn't taking any risks, covering up his massive frame with boxers and a t-shirt.

But it was Alistair who'd turned out to be the real surprise. In his wildest dreams, Zevran had never expected him to look that good in a speedo. Sweet Maker. He's built like one of those Tevinter statues! Alistair's body was perfect, there was simply no other word for it; trim and muscular, with a flat, hard stomach and strong shoulders. And his skin was flawless: smooth, lightly tanned, and covered in a fine sheen of golden hairs. Yum. He looked positively edible, and Zevran's imagination quickly went into overdrive. If he could just run his hand up that strong thigh toward that pronounced bulge-

Zevran caught himself just in time. Maker, was he really fantasizing about Alistair? Though, come to think of it, it was perfectly natural. He hadn't been with another man in ages, but it was all too easy to imagine a big strong body moving on top of his, large hands on his skin, rough and calloused, a man's voice muttering dirty suggestions in his ear.

Only, suddenly it wasn't Alistair in his fantasies any longer. The image in his mind that made him shiver despite the heat, that had him so hard that he had to roll over on his stomach to hide it, was not of Alistair's guileless, open face. No, the face his memories conjured up was much darker, the voice much deeper, muttering promises in husky Antivan that sounded oddly like threats. And the hands pinning him down were merciless, possessive, allowing him no escape even had he wanted it.

Not that he'd ever wanted it. Not even at the end, when it all had been such a mess: the jealousy, the fighting, the tears in Rinna's large, dark eyes. Not even then had he wanted to leave, not really. He'd been tied to them, perversely unable to extricate himself from the web of pain and guilt and recriminations. Such a complete and utter fuck-up. And running away had solved nothing, ultimately. It never did.

With a deep sigh, he reached for his drink, but then stopped mid-motion. Getting drunk was no longer very appealing. He had a feeling he'd need a clear head tonight.

Megan wasn't drunk. Just mildly woozy and in a very good mood. But really, who wouldn't be, in a place like this, surrounded by good friends, with everything full of warmth and sun and laughter? Her parents were probably bundling up in warm overcoats now and heading for the chantry service. She made a face at the mere thought. As far as she was concerned, cookies and mulled wine and holiday cheer sounded a whole lot less tempting than piña coladas and hot sand and Zevran's bare golden skin.

It was getting dark, but a large yellow moon lit the night brightly enough to make any other light unnecessary. It was still warm, no longer scorching hot, but the air was sweet and balmy. Megan saw no reason to object when Zevran grabbed a blanket and took her hand to pull her to her feet and lead her off into the darkness for some privacy.

They settled in a quiet spot, beneath some palm trees, at a little distance from the others. Zevran wasted no time pulling her into his arms for a kiss. He tasted of fruit and rum, and his lips were a little chapped from a day spent in the sun and the salty ocean water. Megan moaned into his mouth. More. She needed more of him, right now.

Straddling him, she ground herself against him through the thin material of his shorts. Zevran was hard already, had been for some time, if she was any judge, and he groaned deep in his throat, taking hold of her hips to guide her movements. His lips found her breasts, nudging aside her bikini top just far enough so he could get his mouth on her. And oh, Maker, his mouth! The things he did to her with his tongue, with his teeth, the small noises he made as he sucked harder… Megan closed her eyes, every nerve in her body alive with pure, intense delight at the feel of his lips on her skin, skin already oversensitive with want.

"You taste so wonderful." Zevran was breathless, panting against her chest, pausing only for a moment before renewing his assault.

Megan gave herself up completely to the moment, hoping he would never stop and she would never lose the heat of his mouth, locked tight around her nipple. At the same time she wanted that mouth everywhere on her skin, needed him to kiss her, to touch her, to get inside her. His length sliding along her core drove her wild with desire, and she knew he could feel how wet she was, how desperate for him.

"Megan. Please, I-" His clever fingers were busy untying the fastenings of her top, then her bikini bottoms, which had tiny bows at the side. When she'd bought them, she'd thought they were a little too cutesy, but they turned out to be immensely practical now.

Lifting her up a little, Zevran somehow wiggled out of his shorts, so they were skin to skin, his hot cock pressed directly against her core. He cursed under his breath, struggling visibly to hold back long enough to find a condom and put it on. He groaned as he slid inside her in one easy move because she was so very ready for him. For a heartbeat, his hands tightened on her hips, but then he lay back and relaxed his grip, allowing her to move freely. And all the time his eyes were on her, dark and hungry in the light of the moon, devouring her as she rode him, her thighs tight around his slim flanks.

Megan thought she would die of sheer bliss. He felt so incredibly good inside her, and he let her take what she wanted from him, at her own pace, arching his back the tiniest bit, to help her find the perfect angle. She was sure it couldn't get any better, until his hands came up to cup her breasts, to pinch her nipples, just this side of painful, and another spark of lust made her clench hard around him.

And still it wasn't quite enough, and Zevran knew, of course he knew. One of his hands found its way between her legs, his fingertips dancing over her clit without breaking her rhythm, so light, so perfect that it made her want to cry. It felt good, insanely good, all her sweet spots stimulated at the same time, everything combining into a single, glorious burst of heat, tearing through every cell of her body. And she screamed, hoarse and rough, not caring if the others over at the campfire could hear her. She screamed her completion into the vast, midnight blue sky, screamed because she couldn't possibly contain it all inside her body. Too much, too good.

Zevran took her cry from her lips in a greedy kiss, as if he wanted to swallow it, as if he wanted to share in the ecstasy bursting from her lips. His hips snapped up under her, once, twice, before he came, with a long, convulsive shudder, burying his face between her breasts.

"Sweet Andraste." When he raised his head, he looked positively wrecked.

His hair was tousled, and he was breathing so hard she could see his chest rise and fall. His eyes were unfocussed, glazed over with lust. Vaguely, Megan wondered if she looked the same. Her lip was bleeding where she'd bitten it in ecstasy, and her cheeks felt burning hot. I'm a hot mess, probably.

It took them both a while to recover, but a quick dip in the water helped them cool down a little. Neither of them felt much like returning to the others, so they remained where they were, huddled together under a blanket under the starry sky, looking out over the dark water of the bay. It was quiet and peaceful, with hardly a sound to be heard.

"We need to talk." When Zevran finally broke the silence, he sounded uncharacteristically serious.

"Sure. What's the matter?" Megan leaned back against him, savouring the firmness of his chest against her back. Her body felt heavy and relaxed.

"I'm not coming back with you to Denerim." Zevran sounded… hesitant and somehow careful, as if he wasn't sure how she'd react. "There's a few things I need to take care of back home in Antiva. I'll get off the boat in Rialto, on the way back."

"I see." Instinctively, Megan knew there would be no point in complaining or asking him to stay. He'd made up his mind. "Will I see you again? Or…?"

"Of course you will." Zevran seemed almost hurt by her suggestion, but at the same time relieved that she wasn't going to make a fuss. "I'll be in touch. And it probably won't take long. If all goes well, I'll catch up with you in a few weeks."

Megan nodded. "Okay." She was rather proud of how steady her voice was.

"Really?" He tilted her head back a little, so he could look into her eyes.

"Yes. Really." Megan met his gaze without flinching. "I'll be looking forward to seeing you again."

"Me, too." A sudden smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. "More than you know."

Megan was leaning on the ship's railing, watching Zevran skip down the gangway as if his hefty backpack weighed nothing at all, exchanging a few cheery Antivan insults with the inevitable gaggle of layabouts loitering at the docks of Rialto's picturesque harbour. Next to her, Alistair was a comforting presence, warm and familiar.

She and Zevran had said their goodbyes this morning, in his cabin, with a last quick bout of steamy sex. But she'd wanted to see him off, and she was grateful Alistair had joined her. Zevran waved at them once, a cheery smile on his face and then disappeared around a corner without so much as a glance back.

Megan sighed. "Ah, damn it, I'm going to miss him."

Next to her, Alistair cleared his throat. "Then why-" He broke off.

"Why what?" Megan gestured for him to continue.

"I… I just don't get it, Megan." He rubbed his neck, looking uncomfortable. "You and Zev… You're good friends, you…" He blushed up to the roots of his hair. "You seem to have a lot of fun in bed, and you get along so well. And yet you let him go, just like that."

Megan shrugged. "He said he'd be back, and I'm pretty sure he will. As for the rest… It's fine. I mean, it's not as if this is love with a capital L."

"You keep saying that, both of you." Alistair threw her a dark glare. "Why don't you want to admit you're in love, Meg?"

"Because we aren't?" Megan did her best not to roll her eyes. "Zev and me, we have something good, Alistair, whatever it is. But if we started calling it a 'relationship', if we made it exclusive and made plans for marriage and a suburban home, I'm pretty sure we'd ruin it."

"I'm not saying you should get married." Alistair raised both hands in a gesture of defeat. "But what's so wrong with a little commitment?"

"Nothing at all, if both sides want it," Megan explained patiently. "But we don't. Really, we're fine just the way we are. Neither of us wants to get tied down just yet."

"So what happens once you go to college? Will he come with you then?" Alistair still seemed to have trouble wrapping his mind about the concept.

"Maker, no!" Megan laughed. "He's got other things he wants to do, I believe. Other people, too," she added with a saucy smile. "Look, Alistair, Zev has been remarkably monogamous for the past few months, but I'm not kidding myself. He's been getting restless lately. There's no way he's ready to settle with just one person. And neither am I."

She really wasn't, she realized, even as Alistair shook his head, a frown of disapproval on his handsome face. There was so much she still wanted to do, so many experiences waiting for her out there. A whole world waiting to be discovered, new places, new loves, new adventures. With a small shiver, she remembered the long, speculative look Daveth had given her at breakfast, when he'd learned Zevran was leaving.

No, she wasn't ready to settle down. Not yet.

Hugs and thanks to suilven for all her help.