Zevran awoke possessing the curious mix of a chilled face and a very snug, very warm body. His eyes flickered open in time to see the fog pour out of his mouth as a yawn escaped him.
His heat source shifted a little, and when he turned, he saw Rhodri craning her neck forward to get a glance at him.
"Dulcis, you're awake," she said with a smile. "Good morning. How did you sleep?"
He stretched under the robe, marking the slight stiffness in his joints that mornings brought, but found himself decidedly comfortable otherwise once he nestled back into the solid, welcoming torso and limbs surrounding him. His arms resituated themselves on Rhodri's thighs, and he could have sworn he heard her heart start to pound behind his left ear. He grinned.
"I slept marvellously, thank you," Zevran purred. "I had a dream that a luscious Grey Warden was warming me as I kept watch."
He glanced up in time to see Rhodri acknowledge this flirtation (a clever one, too, given that he had only been conscious a few seconds) with a calm, understanding nod.
"I know what you mean," she said. "I often have dreams like that, myself."
Zevran's eyes widened in delight. That wicked individual had been dreaming about getting her hands on him! And dropping the information so casually, too, as though they had been discussing the potential for rain. How deliciously evil of her.
He nibbled his lip and gave an encouraging nod. "Oh?"
"Mmm," Rhodri sighed, a little pensively. "Those overly realistic ones are odd, aren't they? Two nights ago, I dreamt I was cleaning the windows in the apprentice dormitory. It felt like hours had passed bef- hmm? Wait, what's so funny?"
Mid-laugh, Zevran winked to convey the true intent of his answer, and when this failed to abate Rhodri's confused look, he swallowed down the remainder of his mirth and patted her knee.
"Lovely Rhodri," he advised gently, "I am flirting with you."
"Oh. So... you didn't have the dream?" She grew tense under him. "People lie to flirt? That makes no sense. You wouldn't lie to me, would you?"
"No, no," he soothed hastily, kneading her thigh with his thumb. "You misunderstand me. I implied that my dream was reality, you see. There was no lie; it was more…" he paused as he fished through the haze for the right word, " sarcasm, if you will."
Rhodri relaxed at that; relieved, Zevran settled back against her, nestling into the crook of her neck to look up at her as she spoke again.
"Sarcasm but flirtatious," she said. "Right. I think I understand. Let me try, yes?"
He nodded. Maker only knew what she would come up with. It would, at the very least, be interesting.
Rhodri cleared her throat– rather decisively, in fact, as though she were about to deliver a speech.
"Last night," she declared, "I dreamt that- no, wait, I didn't sleep on watch. Good grief, I wouldn't leave you defenceless like that... Ah! I daydreamed that-" Rhodri paused and looked at him worriedly, "and you understand this is made up, yes? It didn't really happen. You know, perhaps we should have a signal, so you'll know when I'm flirting sarcastically and when I'm telling the truth. Maybe a wink, or-"
She stopped mid-sentence, cut off by a snort Zevran had tried and failed to stifle. Whether it was born of genuine amusement or the tension from the moment had become too much was something of a mystery.
Rhodri quirked an eyebrow. "... I'm sensing my performance in the area is substandard. I'll need to practise my sarcastic flirtations, evidently." She took her own declaration with a nod. "Yes. Well, can I interest you in a truth in the interim? I'm much better at those."
He chuckled heavily and rested the back of his head onto her chest again, steeling himself for more discomfort. "As you like."
She gave him a gentle squeeze with her arms and leaned into him. Zevran's body grew pleasantly hot as Rhodri's mouth dropped down by his ear, almost close enough to graze it on the way down.
"I like it when you flirt with me," she murmured, her voice as warm as a sip of whisky. "More than you know."
"Ooh." Zevran bit his lip and kneaded her leg in a steady rhythm, "Is that so?"
"It is." Rhodri's body tensed again behind him, her hands stroking careful, tender lines up Zevran's arms. "I, ah… I know I don't always catch on straight away, but believe me when I say I have ways of compensating for any delays on my part." Zevran felt her enterprising nod against his cheek, and his heart sank a little.
He shook his head, almost reflexively. "No need for any compensation," he crooned. "We are all enjoying ourselves here, no? But perhaps we could be a little more efficient about it, get the most out of it."
She hummed with interest. "Really? How do you make flirting more efficient?"
"Oh, it is simple enough," he waved a hand airily. "You might tell me what you like about flirting, for example, and I could… how to put it… tweak my remarks to make them a little more suited to our manner of speaking. The same as you would when explaining magical things to me, no?"
Rhodri's chest swelled behind his head.
"I could do that," she nodded again, rapidly now. "Yes! That's a great idea. So clever of you! Hah!" Zevran smiled (in spite of himself, of course) as Rhodri's legs bounced under his hands.
"Right," she said. "Well, what I like about you flirting with me… hmm…"
"Take your time to think it over if you wish, of course."
"No need, I think I've got it." Rhodri relaxed again and huffed a laugh. "I'm… not sure if this is the purpose of flirting, but I presumed we do it to show someone we want a very particular kind of attention from them." She gave a low, approving hum as Zevran took her face and guided it down to his jaw, and she kissed a line back up to his ear. "Do you think my theory holds any water?"
"Oh, I think it might very well," he replied smoothly. "It makes perfect sense to me."
Zevran, marking the growing tightness in his breeches, gripped Rhodri's thigh a little harder as she dropped another kiss, this time a whisker away from neck territory, with the slightest press of tongue on the soft spot under his ear.
"I'm happy to hear that," she husked. "Well, I like flirting because I like to know when my attention is wanted. And you should know, dulcis, that you have my full attention at your disposal. Use it however you wish, as much or as little as you like."
"I see…" He gave an encouraging hum, and when that did not prompt any further action from her, he flipped onto his belly and propped himself up with his hands so they were face-to-face, with his mouth hovering by that sweet little spot in the corner of her own lips.
The easy smile fell off Rhodri's face as her gaze darted between his eyes and his lips, and her chest rose against his abdomen sharply. Candid displays of temptation were nothing new– enjoyable as they were when they came from the right person. But to have the temptation so effectively restrained that it would only be indulged if Zevran supplied the correct cue? Not a single stolen kiss, even on the few areas available, or any motion to snap him up? That was a novelty.
How delicious.
"Perhaps you might indulge me with that mouth of yours, my Grey Warden," he purred. "Indulge yourself, even. Doesn't my face look terribly kissable this morning?"
Normally, it wasn't especially fun to admit that someone else had been right and, more to the point, that one had been wrong. There was something terribly disempowering about it– or further disempowering, as the case often tended to be. But it had to be said, Leliana had been right about Rhodri's preference for clear requests, and as the same Warden cradled his face like he was a handful of rubies, kissed an arch up his cheek and over his eyes, and down again to the corner of his mouth–
The edge of Zevran's lips curled, pressing into the corner of hers. There was barely anything to kiss, but parched things swallowed at the first drop of moisture, even if a drop was all that was given.
Rhodri drew back, and Zevran finished swearing to himself as his eyes opened and he found himself the full focus of huge, black eyes (hadn't they once been grey?) that he would buy Leliana, a woman who was as right as he was wrong, all the frivolous shoes her heart desired.
And then, as though the promise had been broadcast throughout all of Ferelden, the same Chantry Sister entered his periphery carrying a large pile of laundry. Her head turned in their direction cursorily, and as quickly as it turned away, it snapped back again, and she fell still, down there by the firepit, goggling at them over armfuls of washing.
"Mmm," Zevran murmured to Rhodri. "It seems we have an audience."
Rhodri looked around and gasped, and though he could no longer see her face, the backs of her ears went scarlet.
"Andraste's puckered-" she hissed before quickly raising a hand to give Leliana a feeble wave. Leliana shot them a smug smile, waved back, and disappeared for the lake with a decidedly springy gait.
When Rhodri looked back at him, Zevran saw that the blush was across her entire face and neck.
"Well," she squeaked, voice uncharacteristically strangled and reedy. She shook her head and cleared her throat before continuing. "That was awkward. I hope she didn't think we were doing anything indecent in public."
Zevran, amused by the sudden transformation from bold passion into subdued mortification, raised an eyebrow at her. Rhodri's eyes widened and she quickly held up her hands.
"Do not misunderstand me. I'm proud to be seen with you." She nodded fervently, as if her body were agreeing with her words. "Don't ever think anything less."
Proud to–
A stab of panic pushed a little laugh out of him. "No need to explain yourself, my dear," he assured her quickly. And then, as the thought occurred to him (and saved his hide in the process), he nodded in the direction of the camp and added, "But perhaps if you would like to lavish me with some of that attention you mentioned was available…? Your watch shift is over now, after all."
Rhodri's teeth, canines and all, bit down hard on her lower lip. She nodded again.
"Sic, dulcis," she murmured, so so so damned close to his mouth. "Tell me your wish."
It wasn't that Zevran couldn't trust himself not to simply lean into Rhodri's mouth. It wasn't. He had supreme self-control, and Rhodri had made her wishes quite clear with regard to such acts in public. But why make it any harder, he wondered, when he was quite hard enough as it was?
Bloody Alistair and his awful puns. It must be contagious.
Zevran cursed Alistair (and the frankly appalling lack of space in standard trousers) as he moved his mouth up to Rhodri's ear. Behind her, a stone's throw away, Rhodri's tent stood ready and waiting, the lyrium flasks glowing in one corner of the canvas like trapped stars. That shade of blue looked so fetching on unencumbered skin that had a sheen of perspiration on it. Well, presumably, anyway. Zevran felt very confident that that was the case, and what better time than now to see if that assumption stood up to scrutiny?
He administered a gentle nip to Rhodri's cheek, smirking as her yelp of surprise became a dark chuckle.
"If I may be a little forward," he murmured, "perhaps you might take me to your tent and show me the sort of naughty things a modest Tevinter gets up to in private?"
In one smooth motion, before her agreement was even vocalised, Rhodri took Zevran by the legs, feeding them around her waist as she rose to her feet. A lovely gesture, in theory– and in practice, it was as well. However, a raging erection was a raging erection, and now Zevran's was pressed up against Rhodri's belly quite snugly.
Predictably enough, she froze. Reddened.
And then she swallowed terribly, terribly thickly. Was there any higher praise than a noise like that? Zevran doubted it. Even so, though, their current state no doubt infringed on modesty requirements and warranted a word or two of reassurance from him.
"You need not carry me if you are uncomfortable, mi sol," Zevran soothed. "I can walk to your tent easily enough. Though I will have to slip out from under your robe to do so."
"It's all right," she mumbled. "We can fix this so it works for both of us… let me see…"
A moment passed as Rhodri rearranged Zevran so that he was in her arms like a bride– an upright one, but a bride nonetheless. She bent down so that Zevran could take the cowhide they had been sitting on, and that sat in a neat, folded pile in his lap. Modesty saved, closeness preserved. If he could think up a few similar tricks himself, perhaps there was a career in teaching loopholes in modesty laws to frustrated Tevinters.
The walk back to Rhodri's tent was a quick one. Leliana, in the brief moment that she was visible on the way, shot Zevran a filthy wink (Rhodri's attention, a quick glance revealed, was focused on her tent). Zevran returned the wink and, in a moment of unabashed flourish, threw his head back and kissed the underside of Rhodri's chin. Rhodri held him to her tighter and swallowed again. Delicious.
At the front of her tent, Rhodri bent down again so that Zevran sat on one of her knees, and she put the cowskin on the ground. Her hand went to his boots, and for some unknowable reason– an irrational one, no doubt– his breath swelled as she carefully slipped one off his foot and put it down like it was made of glass.
Zevran offset the nerves with an offhanded chuckle. "Oh, there is no need to be gentle with those," he said, flimmering his fingers dismissively. "Goodness knows they are not genuine Antivan leather, but they will certainly survive if you toss them."
"Mmm?" Rhodri frowned as she eased the other boot off and set it down. "Why would I do that? Your things should be treated with respect."
He froze. Why had he said anything at all?
Because you swooned when she took your shoe off and didn't want to admit it.
"Ah," Zevran gave a chattery, apologetic laugh. "Forgive me, I did not mean to imply you would not… that is to say…" he trailed off, now well beyond acceptable limits for awkward remarks. But Rhodri was listening intently, and acknowledged his cackhanded attempts at backpedalling with a patient smile.
"I'm not offended, don't worry," she crooned, smoothing her thumb over his cheek and forehead as if to wipe the embarrassment off him. "People who handle your things carelessly don't do a good job of showing respect to you, I think. It matters that their getting damaged would affect you, see, because you matter."
Zevran's mouth went dry. Too dry to say anything, which was a boon, because there was nothing to say to that. Disagreement was the obvious response– when did a person like him ever truly matter?- but he could already hear the vehement rebuttal from Rhodri in his head.
Then again, why on earth would either of them be talking or rebutting or doing anything of that nature at a time like this? Outside her tent, and the bed that dwelled within?
Oh, what absolute madness.
With a wicked smile, Zevran stuck his feet in through the tent flap, slipped out from Rhodri's robe, and followed his legs into her tent. The flaps fell shut behind him; outside, Rhodri was wheezing with laughter.
"You slithered in there like a snake," she said through the canvas. "All bent over backwards, didn't even have to touch the ground to keep yourself steady. I'm very impressed!"
Salt and sundried linen, now that Zevran had a moment to notice it, were thick in the air, and mixing with the woody cloves and leather he brought with him. How well, how inexplicably well the paired scents married. It was sheer luck, no doubt, that that was the case. And with luck on his side and renewed confidence from her praise swelling his chest, Zevran parted the tent flaps again and stuck his head out.
Rhodri's eyebrows rose as Zevran looked up at her. She had paused in unlacing one of her own boots, her face only a few inches from his. Her gaze darted down to Zevran's lips, lingering there briefly, and then returned to his cheek.
"I… ah…" she cleared her throat, and though she gave the impression of intending to say more, nothing else was uttered.
And it was such a wicked thing to do, really, teasing the poor creature when she still had both shoes on, but Zevran wasn't in the business of being good. In fact, by closing the gap between their faces the way he did, and leaning in such that his long nose passed her smaller one and pressed into her cheek, stopping short of their lips grazing, well. He all but set the seal on his reputation as a horrible, bad man, didn't he? It was grounds for being stuck with the label forever.
He bit his lip as Rhodri shuddered softly. She cupped his cheek, slipping her thumb on Zevran's lips and putting a modicum of distance between their mouths; he took it as his cue to shift away again. After all, there came a point where teasing became taunting, and it was cruel to test self-control at such limits. With a soft, dark smirk he slowly pulled back, letting out a noise of delighted surprise as Rhodri, whom he had fully expected to remain outside until her boots were off, moved after him.
At the sound, she froze, her eyes wide.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "Was I too–?"
Zevran cut her off with a fervent shake of his head, and to prove he meant it, he gently took her by the collar and guided her into the tent with him. There was something terribly rewarding about the way her concern evaporated at that, a tangible result of something he had done. Not Leliana with her Orlesian charms and diplomacy, or a liberal dose of Alistair's brand of stout lovingkindness, but a scrap of honesty from a man with a market value of three sovereigns. Him.
And it was him Rhodri's eyes were fixed on as he coaxed her into the tent a little further, so that her knees were in and nothing but her feet were still outside. It was him she was watching like he was the last bubble of breathable air in Thedas, moving however he directed her without hesitation. Any Crow worth keeping alive knew that sort of generous treatment behoved one to draw upon every skill they had ever acquired– though Zevran, who considered himself something of a perfectionist, would have argued one should always finish a job to the best of one's ability, good treatment or no.
But then again, Zevran was a useless man. And never had that been more obvious than now, as years of honed seduction skills erased themselves and he, forgetting his plan to bring Rhodri the last little way to him, very clumsily surged forward and crushed his mouth against hers. His toes curled and he considered his lack of diligence pardoned as Rhodri groaned on his lips and kissed back hungrily. Her stiff hand settled on Zevran's cheek, lighter than air and stroking fragile, staccato lines along his jaw. And he, self-indulgent, starved thing that he was, came just shy of breaking the kiss by forcefully leaning into the touch.
The kiss did, in fact, break a moment later as Rhodri shifted away, panting and heavy-lidded.
"A moment please, dulcis," she murmured gently. Rhodri pointed her nose at her feet, which were still hanging out of the tent. "Forgive me, I will come back to you in just a–"
"Of course," he nodded, moving past her toward the tent flap. "Allow me to assist. Many hands, no?"
"Oh, no-no-no," Rhodri eased Zevran away from the entrance, taking his hands in hers. "No, there is no need for that."
Zevran paused, fishing for comprehension in the pervasive haze, until–
Oh. Well, that explained the palpitations when she took his boots off.
"Are feet and boots dirty to Tevinters, too?" he asked, chuckling softly as Rhodri nodded. "I thought it was only Antivans and Rivainis who believed that."
"Hah! You inherited the custom from us, as I understand it. In any case, there is no need for hands like these," Rhodri lifted his hands indicatively, "to do any of that sort of thing."
He bit his lip. "And what are my hands like, my lovely Warden, hmm?"
"They're like… mmm…" Rhodri dropped a kiss on the back of each of Zevran's hands, and then turned them over and kissed his palms. She chuckled, dreamily almost, against his fingers, "I'm not sure what, in particular. Something that mustn't be exposed to anything demeaning."
Zevran's mouth went dry, which thank the Maker was obvious to him alone. Rhodri traced a finger over his palm before turning away to attend to her boots, which gave Zevran a handful of precious seconds to collect himself and brush away any threat of internal mutiny.
And, since he was so very apt at squandering opportunities like these, when an unshod Rhodri returned to him, Zevran was no closer to assuming an alluring pose now than before. There wasn't even a vague plan of action in his head to get him in that position. He was, quite simply, blank. Hard, too, and that rarely paired well with blankness.
Somehow, though, the Maker had thought it best to smile on Zevran despite that, relieving him of the immediate need to speak or act as Rhodri crossed her legs and shuffled away a little, looking like she had something to say. There was nothing to do but wait and listen, and Maker knew he was marvellous at both those things.
Rhodri's gaze lingered on him, even on his eyes, until a pink tinge crept into her cheeks. She looked away again and fidgeted with her robes.
"You said you wanted to know what Tevinters get up to in private," she said after a moment. "Naughty things. I'm right in assuming you meant sensual, erotic things, acts of that nature, sic?"
Zevran bit his lip and nodded. "You are very right."
"Mmm. Would I also be correct in assuming you wanted us to do those things with each other?"
"So long as you are willing, certainly."
She swallowed, face darkening as she acknowledged the response with a nod. "I–yes. I'm happy– delighted to oblige, but I find myself in a bit of a situation at the moment."
Zevran raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"
"Yes, I… how to put this… mmm!" Rhodri nodded for reasons unknown."Well, we have to talk about our rules before we do anything. What you and I want and don't want in sex and the like. What must happen, what mustn't, sic?"
"Ah!" He nodded. "Of course. Perhaps we might start with your rules, then, mi sol? I am ready for every detail."
She sighed, wringing her robe a little harder. "Yes, well, now we reach the issue at hand."
"Oh?" He–carefully– laid a hand on her knee. "Something is wrong? If you are not ready to discuss these things–"
"It's not a case of readiness, I wouldn't say," she held up her hands. "It's– I'm, ah… may I be quite candid with you, Zev?"
"I hope you will be," he purred.
"Right." Rhodri rubbed at the back of her neck and let out a shaky breath. "Well, bluntly put, I'm aroused. Right now. Very, very aroused." The red tinge snuck back into her cheeks; she gulped loudly. "The Taint affects everything in the body, see. You're forever restless, hungry, more sensitive to sound and touch and– everything. Makes your body so hot that your feet burn in your boots."
Zevran frowned. "That… would not be enjoyable, I do not think."
Rhodri chuckled. "Oh, it has its good parts. The Taint influences that part of me, too." She nodded at her undercarriage with a droll little smile. "I had a good appetite for pleasure before the Wardens, too, but now I can barely go half a day without touching myself, and the heightened sensation is… fantastic."
"Ooh," Zevran cackled delightedly. "You are going to keep me busy, are you, my darling? I knew you would!" He squeezed her knee and gave her an encouraging smile. "Then let us cover the important parts, and then we can uncover the other important parts, hmm?"
Rhodri barked out a laugh and as quickly as the amusement came on, it evaporated again. "I… can't, though," she lamented.
Zevran moved his hand off her and ducked down to catch her eye.
"You cannot?" he asked gently. "Does the desire make things difficult for you? Forgive me, I did not mean to make unwanted jests."
"You didn't," she replied. "I appreciated the levity, and I do enjoy satisfying my urges, but the desire can be very distracting when it's there. I thought I'd be clear-headed enough to talk about your rules with you, but that kiss…" Rhodri huffed a laugh and shook her head. "In this state, I'm too impaired to discuss rules. There is no room for risk. If I forgot a rule and hurt you, or made you feel unsafe with me, it would be unforgivable. Your safety and comfort must come first, sic?"
Zevran had to struggle to suppress a puzzled frown. Words, reassurances that no risk existed ought to have flowed out of him in abundance, but nothing was there. Why she was even thinking of such things was beyond him, let alone attaching any serious importance to them. It was softening and unsettling all at once.
But this, apparently, was a rule of hers, and whether it made sense to Zevran or not, it was one of her requirements. In fact, it was probably a fetish, when he thought on it. Hardly anything to get excited over; he had attended to marks with far stranger whims and fantasies than that. Really, as far as desires went, this was an excellent one for someone to have.
In fact, perhaps Zevran had something of the same thing himself. After all, didn't he scrupulously ensure he did not discomfit any of his marks or lovers? How lovely to have such a fetish in common with someone else, particularly when that someone else was about to take him to bed.
Or wanted to take him to bed, anyway.
The mental knot untangled, Zevran cleared his throat and nodded. "I understand perfectly, my dear."
Rhodri's eyes widened. "... You do?"
"Oh, yes. In fact, I would not wish to make any such mistake with you, either." He smiled, "We have a lot in common, no?"
She let out an astonished-sounding laugh. "I– maybe we do? Hah. You certainly pay me a great compliment by saying so." Rhodri smiled at her feet and let out a puff of air. "I'm not really sure where to go from here, though. At least not at this exact moment."
He shrugged. "We are not without options. If it is minding the rules of others that makes it difficult, perhaps we could simply attend to ourselves. Together in your tent, even, if it suits you. For my part, I would be more than open to it."
"Oh," she breathed. "I– yes, that would– I'd like that very much. Sic, perbonus."
Zevran smiled. "Marvellous. Tell me, my Warden, would you consider kissing acceptable for this sort of thing? I find it pairs very well with pleasure, but of course, if you would rather not–"
"No, no, I would," Rhodri gave a hurried nod. "Great. Good, yes. Ah… how would you like to start–?"
"Perhaps lying down? Easier to relax, no?"
"Sic, good." She gestured at the bedroll, "Please, you can take it, and I'll lie beside you." Zevran's surprise must have been obvious to Rhodri, who added, "I know it folds out, but given my size, if we end up facing each other, the difference between us won't be quite so… stark."
Zevran ran his eyes over Rhodri, groin stirring as she marked the attention with a bitten lip. He slipped his cloak off and with her eyes still on him, Zevran made a little show of draping himself down on her bedroll, arranging his legs so that his rapidly returning erection was as prominent as possible.
In two blinks, Rhodri had taken her robe off and was using it as a pillow as she lay down beside Zevran (Zevran had her actual pillow, and his attempts to share it between them were declined with thanks). She peered at him solicitously.
"Are you comfortable, dulcis?" she asked. "Warm enough? I can get you anything you might need, anything at all."
"No-o-o," Zevran crooned as he shuffled toward her, right to the edge of the bedroll. He traced a finger along the sharp ridge of her jaw, dropping his voice down to a low burr. "How chivalrous you are, lovely Rhodri. Let me assure you that I am not wanting for anything. And what of you, hmm? What do you need?"
Rhodri shrugged with her available shoulder. "Ah… well, an orgasm, I suppose. Beyond that, nothing, really."
Zevran snorted, far louder than he had expected to. "Well, if the orgasm is included," he pondered aloud with a smirk, "perhaps I am wanting for one thing. But I sense it is not far off."
"Hah. Well, mine certainly isn't," Rhodri gave a rather breathless-sounding chuckle. She held up a hand, "can I offer you any lubricant?"
"If you have any to spare," he nodded appreciatively. "But do not trouble yourself if your supplies are low. A little saliva does the job just as well for me."
Rhodri laughed again. "Oh, I make it myself, so no need for concern there."
It was by the grace of the Maker and the strength of Zevran's epiglottis that a thrilled (and, admittedly, astonished) squeak didn't come out of him then and there. Certainly, offering some of the slickness from between her legs– which, to the delight of his imagination, was apparently quite abundant at that moment– for him to slather on and pleasure himself into oblivion with… well, it cleverly skirted the conditions of their current encounter. And really, if Rhodri was one of the multitudes of Tevinters forced to be creative in the face of strict rules, it was nothing but foolishness on Zevran's part to presume she wouldn't suggest such a thing.
"Ooh, Rhodri," he breathed, shifting his painfully-constricting breeches as much as he could manage. "Please, yes. Shall I hold out my hand while you…?"
"Yes, thank you." She paused, "Do you mind if I use a little magic?"
Oh, the rumours about magic and sex were true! It was all Zevran could do not to bless the Maker audibly. He advised that he did not mind in the slightest and his hand shot out, ready and waiting. Rhodri smiled and lay the palm of her hand on Zevran's, and in an instant, it was warm and slippery.
Zevran's mouth fell open as she moved away again, revealing glistening hands that shone blue in the glow of the lyrium.
"Maker's breath," he whispered, too astonished to be disappointed. "You make your own…? With magic?"
Rhodri nodded cheerfully. "I do! If you have any flasks for your own oils and find you run out, I can happily re-supply you. It's safe to use anywhere, even in the mouth, and doesn't taste like much of anything."
Zevran blinked as he brought his hand up to his nose and sniffed it. "No smell, either."
"None. You can use it in food in a pinch, though it seems not to make meals more nourishing."
As his thoughts briefly alighted on the emaciated Circle mages, Zevran nodded and chuckled, a little sadly. So much for any wishes of brothel or Crow mages who clandestinely supplied the hungry and malnourished with bottles of magical, fattening grease. He rubbed his fingers together and let the delight in the near-watery slickness crowd out the wistfulness.
"Marvellous," he mused aloud. "You must have been a delight in the bedroom, my dear, with this sort of magic to hand!"
Rhodri smirked (smirked!) at that. "Let me assure you, dulcis," she purred, confidently flexing her glossy fingers, "I have much more interesting magic at my fingertips than a simple grease spell, and not once has a partner been disappointed by anything I used on them."
It was Zevran's turn to swallow thickly now. No wonder Isabela had been so sour about him showing up in the Pearl.
"... Oh," he uttered.
"We can talk about it later, if you like." Rhodri chuckled, "For now, though, I'm afraid having you so close is quite… ah… distracting." She looked away and shifted one of her legs so that her thighs were no longer touching. "Sorry, I–"
"No, no," Zevran shook his head and brushed her cheek with his (clean) knuckles. "No need for apology. It is time you took your pleasure, I think." He snickered and glanced at the bulge in his pants indicatively, "And perhaps I should do the same."
He shot Rhodri a lip-bitten smile as he let his hand drift down to the front of his breeches, lingering over the laces. "Watch me, if you like" he murmured warmly. "I do love an audience." Rhodri's breath hitched loudly.
"Ah," she huffed, already untucking her tunic and tugging at her own laces. "Same, Zev. Anything, you– whatever you like, sic? I– Maker's grace, why are these so tight? I can't even get my hand in–" Rhodri growled and wriggled, arching her back off the ground as she peeled the uncooperative garment away. When she was bare down to her knees, she settled onto the canvas floor and sighed. "Finally."
Zevran rolled over to face her, opening his breeches in one easy motion and adjusting his erection to rest against his belly. His eyes followed the path of Rhodri's hand as it slipped between her legs, her long, slick fingers delving and stroking with a practised ease that made his cock twitch. A quiet stream of Tevene, mostly expletives, joined the sound of her ministrations, and not of a mind to torture himself with waiting any longer, Zevran took himself in hand and worked his entire length with quick, rough motions.
And then he stopped again as Rhodri stilled, already beading with sweat and panting like she'd run to her tent from the Donarks. Keeping her hand firmly lodged between her thighs, she flopped onto her side and faced him.
"Sorry, Zev," she gasped. "I got the order wrong and kept you waiting. Should have faced you before I started." She paused and watched him cautiously, "…Are you still interested in kissing? If the moment's passed, I understand, of course."
"Oh," Zevran gave a dark, breathless chuckle and pulled her to him until their noses were touching. "'Interested' is a terrible understatement, my darling," he husked, nibbling his lip as Rhodri's breath audibly caught.
"What word would you use?" she whispered.
He brushed his mouth over hers, "Kiss me and find out."
Rhodri's puzzled little smile melted away on Zevran's lips as she obliged him. Her unused hand, sandwiched between them, gingerly shifted upwards, making for his face; Zevran took it and wrapped her entire arm behind his neck, abandoning the pillow in favour of her upper arm in the process. It was a simple gesture– a practical one, he quickly reminded himself before his mind could start to scream– and prompt enough for Rhodri to cradle the tip of his jaw in her fingertips and deepen the kiss. Zevran moaned, quite unexpectedly and entirely involuntarily. Certainly, moaning during kissing and other acts was nothing new, and it had its place in the seduction process. It did wonders for a mark's confidence, kept them firmly lodged in their surety of themselves and whatever prowess they imagined they had. The benefits of that level of immersive distraction couldn't be understated when one was forever watching out for unexpected incursions, or was still finalising the details of the mark's upcoming murder, on more disorganised days.
Unplanned moaning, though? The lack of control was amateurish at best, and that little display would have been grounds for punishment had Rhodri not shivered on his lips. The sound of her fingers vigorously fucking herself reached his ears again and with those two good signs, Zevran considered himself forgiven– by whom remained to be seen, but his slate was wiped clean all the same. And being as absolved and newly confident and thoroughly kissed as he was, he swept his tongue over Rhodri's lips, seeking passage.
Her fingers pressed into his jaw a little tighter, breaths quickening, and as soon as her lips parted, Zevran let his tongue dip past and stroke against hers. Rhodri made a groan that faded into a telltale whine, sharp and warning. Zevran's cock throbbed in his hand in response; he- carefully- resumed his ministrations to shut the bastard up. Her body, suddenly much smaller than he remembered, curled into his, her feet tangling around his ankles and her legs parting so quickly, so readily, to let Zevran slip his knee between hers. He kissed her a little harder, a little filthier, his breath sticking in his throat as she stiffened with a gasp he'd heard most nights and mornings despite himself– and, as it happened, said gasp, and the gasps that followed that, were ones that she paired with quick, needy kisses into his willing neck until she fell still again.
Zevran blessed the Maker for allowing him to last longer than previous occasions with his hand this year. If not time-wise, at least lasting longer than Rhodri did. It was a close call, certainly, as his increasingly sticky palm would now attest to, but the endpoint was still a few crucial strokes away. A particularly good thing, he realised, given that he had gone into her tent without bringing anything to finish into.
He gave a relieved sigh, a smile coming to him easily as he shifted back and scanned Rhodri's face. Hair everywhere, eyes blown to the Void and back, and wringing wet. Positively delectable.
"Ah," she panted, regarding him with a lopsided smile. "I don't usually finish that quickly, just so you know. I'm… fast, but not that fast."
Zevran smirked. "I flatter myself that I might have helped it along a little."
"More than you know," she breathed. Her eyes widened as she quickly added, "Oh! I– not that there was anything behind your back or–! It was just because I never thought about you while I was touching myself– couldn't, you know? And, well, now… "
He blinked. "You… could not before?"
"Well, no, of course not. That would have been wrong."
"... Ah. I'm afraid I do not follow your logic, there, my Warden." He raised an eyebrow cautiously. "Is it time to own up and admit that I did think of you while I pleasured myself?"
"No, no," Rhodri shook her head hastily, her face reddening. "No, dulcis. I'm… oh my, no, I'm flattered. But you know, there was that gap between us, sic?"
"Ah," Zevran nodded now. "I think I understand. The power imbalance you spoke of, it applied to us in your head, too? Very strict of you, my dear."
"Not quite," she shook her head. "I don't necessarily take issue with fantasising about people we can't have, and certainly I wanted to think of you, but I know in practice, the after-effects would have been terrible."
"'After-effects?'" Zevran brushed a finger over her cheek, allowing one side of his mouth to curve up in a wicked grin. "Would my incessant charms have overpowered you before I became a wealthy man? Surely not."
Rhodri watched him gravely. "I would never prey on you like that," she said, and sighed before he could backpedal and apologise. "Forgive me, you probably meant that in a lighthearted way. But no, nothing so immoral."
"What, then?" he mumbled.
"I wouldn't have been able to keep the longing off my face, I don't think," she said, giving a rueful laugh as Zevran's eyes widened. "You look so shocked, dulcis. Why do you think I never answered one way or the other whenever you asked what I wanted, hmm?"
Zevran opened his mouth, and then closed it, not daring to even ponder the topic enough to reply. Rhodri chuckled again, gentler and warmer this time. She brushed her fingertips over his cheek.
"You had enough to deal with as it was," she murmured. "The weight of my desire wasn't for you to carry, and I worried you would have if I let myself become that person who wanted you so openly." She nestled into him and pressed a string of slow, easy kisses along his jaw and up to his ear, "But there's no doubt now, is there? Not after that display from me just now."
He huffed a weak, breathless laugh, too brainless to stop his leg from twining around hers. "Ah… no," he uttered. "No doubts, my dear."
Rhodri pulled her head back, a smile crinkling her eyes. "Good. Now…" she glanced down at his flagging erection, and then back up at him. "Would you like to keep going, or would you rather move on to something else for now?"
"Mm?" Zevran raised an eyebrow curiously, "What sort of 'something else' did you have in mind, you wicked, wicked Warden?"
"Oh, just normal things," she shrugged. "I could wash my hands off and make you breakfast, if you like. Or… mmm… well, there were those funny little birds hanging around by the pond, we could go and have a look at them?" Rhodri rubbed her chin now, her eyes on the canvas roof and not on Zevran and his no-doubt freakishly puzzled expression. "Ooh! We could try cutting up an apple and taking turns throwing bits into each other's mouths, see who can catch a bite from furthest away! We could even have a prize… maybe another story for the winner. What do you think?"
Zevran had schooled his face into something more neutral by the time she looked back at him. It was an undeniably intriguing offer, having the opportunity to stop a sexual act when he wanted to. No guilt, no pressure either way– so far as he could tell, at least, every option was valid. How delightfully different. Had it been anyone else, he would have taken up the offer of apple tossing without a second thought, wildly aroused as he was, if only to know how it felt to opt out like that.
But Rhodri's arm was warm under his head, her pulse steady in his ear, and she was watching him with a tender little smile and running her fingers over his cheek, seemingly for no other reason than to simply do those things while awaiting his answer. As though he was worth the trouble of an idle display of affection. And he, pitiful, sub-standard creature that he was, would have parted with anything to stay in that damned tent with her and her fingers and attention until he died of his own stupidity.
The thought of leaving fled.
He swallowed and squeezed out an awkward laugh. "I am tempted to continue, though I find I did not bring anything with me for cleanup afterward…"
"Oh! I have a rag I use to clean my fingers off." Rhodri craned her neck to look behind him. "You could use that if you like. Well, if I can remember where I put it…" She frowned and glanced up behind his head. "My goodness, I only had it last night! Where in the world…"
Zevran reached around to the side away from Rhodri, and ran a searching hand along the floor. He shook his head when no sign of the cloth was apparent.
"Goodness, I'll need to find another bit of material, then." She shook her head. "I just don't know how it can get lost in such a small space! Ah, well. You could finish on my stomach instead, if that suits? Easy cleanup; I can just freeze the spend and throw it out."
Zevran couldn't help but blink a little at the jump in suggestion. And grin, it had to be said.
"Well now," he purred, "colour me intrigued! If you're sure you don't mind…"
She chuckled and hitched her shirt up. "Go ahead. I am your willing canvas," she said, adding with a smile, "though you'll forgive me if I peel the paint off straight after."
He snorted, nodding as he sat up on his heels. "No complaints from me. One of those mediums best not left to dry." He took a moment to watch Rhodri sprawled on the floor with unselfconsciously glistening fingers and thighs, smiling up at him like she was pleased he was there. She held a hand out to him, which he took without questioning.
"I can't reach any other part of you to kiss," she said anyway. "Is this all right?"
Zevran refused, on the grounds of his sanity, to consider that Rhodri had been paying attention when he said he enjoyed pairing kisses with pleasure, and for the same reason decided that she was doing it for her own pleasure alone.
"It is," he murmured. "And is it all right for you?"
"More than all right," she husked softly, and pressed her mouth into his palm. Zevran bit his lip and stroked his other hand along his length, easily coaxing it back to full hardness as Rhodri kissed up his fingers. She caught his eye and flickered her tongue over the tip of his index finger with a wicked grin.
Zevran huffed a laugh. "Oh, you naughty thing," he gasped. Unable to resist himself, he traced his finger over her mouth, working himself a little faster as Rhodri's lips parted and the tip easily slid in. She knew exactly what she was doing, laving her tongue up the underside like that, sucking tightly and gently and tightly again, with small hums that vibrated up to his palm and drew an embarrassingly wanton mewl out of him.
At the noise Rhodri, who was bright red and looked terribly pleased with herself, slid the rest of his finger into her mouth, her eyes fluttering shut as he shivered against her hand. The small of his back tingled; Zevran summoned every remaining ounce of self-control and paused.
"You look like you are enjoying yourself there, my dear," he panted. "Do not let me stop you if you wish to pleasure yourself again."
Rhodri chuckled and shook her head. She drew his finger out of her mouth with a tiny pop. "I can't, I'm afraid," she smiled. "Only once in the mornings, otherwise I'm sleepy all day. Night time is when things get busier. You go on ahead, though, if you like."
Zevran clucked his tongue sympathetically. "Not to worry," he crooned, "there is always this evening, no?"
"My word, yes," she grinned. "At this rate, I'll be at risk of friction burns."
With a grin, he dipped down to her mouth and stole one quick, dirty kiss. "Put yourself in my skilled hands tonight," he said, "and it will be all pleasure and no pain. Unless, of course, you ask for it."
Rhodri's eyes darkened. She nodded.
"Rules first," she rasped. "But after that, anything you like. Anything."
Zevran bit his lip and nodded. He sat up and turned his attentions back to his cock and had it weeping in a few strokes. His back tightened again; the other hand had found its way back to Rhodri's mouth, and by the time his thumb was being half-swallowed, Zevran was coming with a moan that he was sure he could hear Leliana tittering at outside. For the sake of neatness, he aimed for the middle of the muscular ridges in her belly and watched with no small amount of satisfaction as the hot, thick ropes of fluid filled the gaps like glue. A job well done, he decided with the little capacity he had available.
Suddenly boneless, Zevran flopped onto his back, holding the remains of his erection (and the mess contained in and around said appendage) well away from any bedding. He watched with idle fascination as Rhodri froze his seed with a simple wave of the hand, lifted it away like wood chip, and sat up and tossed it out of the tent.
"See?" she said as she turned back to him with a grin. "Easiest cleanup ever– oh, and look!" Rhodri bent forward and retrieved a piece of fabric from down near her feet. "I found that cloth I was talking about. Here, I'll wet it a bit and you can use it for yourself, if you like."
A little too daft to remember the appropriate words, Zevran took the now-damp cloth with an appreciative nod and wiped himself down. He glanced at Rhodri as she took the cloth back, folding the material in two and running a clean part over her own fingers.
"I'd better go and wash this," she held up the rag indicatively, and watched Zevran with a laugh. "And I think you had better rest a little. You look as silly as a two-sov clock right now." Her face turned up in a ridiculous smile, which Zevran decided to presume was not a reflection of his own face, but rather an exaggeration of some silly expression she had seen on a two-sovereign timepiece. If such a thing even existed. Was this what the foolish rich squandered their money on?
However it was, Rhodri laughed good-naturedly, and lifted his hand up to her mouth. She waited, watching until Zevran nodded, and kissed each of his fingers.
"Rest here if you like," she murmured warmly. "I have a few things to do, and when I'm done, I can haul you out for breakfast."
Zevran blessed the Maker as his voice, and a little sense, returned to him. "'Haul,' you say?"
"Hah. Well, perhaps not 'haul,' no. That would suggest you were heavy, wouldn't it, and you're certainly not that." She arched a brow playfully. "Then I'll float you out for breakfast. There's still some of that jam you like. I'll put that on your toast, sic?"
Heat crept into his cheeks, and Zevran couldn't imagine why. It wasn't as though Rhodri didn't make him breakfast every morning. Taliesen's frequent admonishments of 'get a grip' floated into his head and failed to effect any particular change in him. No help from anyone, or anything.
"You are good to me, Rhodri," he said quietly. Rhodri kissed the back of his hand with a small, flourished 'mwah!'
"As I should be!" she beamed, standing up and hitching up her pants. "Now, you relax, and I'll be back in a little while, sic? Do please excuse me, dulcis."
Without waiting for an answer (of course), she threw on her robe and left the tent, and Zevran was alone. Outside, Leliana erupted into a loud cackle and then, in a turnaround only the most talented bards could manage, seamlessly broke out in tuneful song– an emetic love ballad of some sort, from what Zevran could make out. The lute was being strummed to within an inch of its life, and the only thing he heard from Rhodri on the matter was, "You're in a good mood this morning, my friend. So am I, actually. A very good one! Anyway, if you'll excuse me, please, I need to wash something."
Rhodri's brisk ice-crunching footfalls started up and faded away. The songstress cooed delightedly and played on; Zevran stifled his smile even though no-one else was there to see it.