Dragon Age: Origins/Awakening, Part 4: Permanently Frozen
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Pairings: Alistair/Zevran (Mentions of M!Warden/Morrigan)
(Author's Note: Apologies for the lateness of the fill, this became the fic that wouldn't end. Hopefully OP is still interested, and they don't mind the pairing!!)
"So. . . you've been with. . . people before? Lots of people?"
"Yes. I have met many people in my travels and engaged in scintillating dialogue before I killed them. It has given me a wealth of experience and knowledge. For instance, did you know that if you die before achieving orgasm, your ere-"
"Disturbing. Very, very disturbing," Alistair cut Zevran off, face flushing hotly. "Nevermind."
"I am just teasing you, my friend. I would never kill someone before they were entirely satisfied. It would just be rude. And much less fun."
"Ugh. Can you just. . . there's a ban. There's a ban on you talking for at least an hour."
"Very well. I will just think about it instead." Zevran hummed a pleased sound that was, somehow, extraordinarily dirty.
"Noises count. There's a noise ban, too!"
Their companion snapped something about both of them giving him a headache, and Zevran smirked and went back to his humming. Alistair shot him a resentful look and went silent, booted feet scuffling in the dirt now and then as he trailed after the others. It'd been a stupid time to ask anyway. Maybe. . . later. When the others were occupied. (Which he could stand to know a little less about. Morrigan was anything but quiet. How anyone could sleep with her without worrying about her trying to feed on his entrails, Alistair had no idea.)
At camp that night, Leliana was busy arranging Shale's crystals in some oblique pattern only she and Shale could appreciate properly, Sten was. . . talking to the dog. However that worked, Alistair had stopped trying to suss it out. And Oghren was passed out after making another pass at a rock shaped a bit like a woman, if you squinted and had three bottles of something in your belly.
It was as good a time as any.
Alistair followed Zevran to the pond, making a show of washing his feet in the water and clearing his throat. "So. . . what we were talking about earlier."
"We were talking earlier?"
"Yes. The conversation about your. . . experience that you turned into something horrifying. As usual."
Zevran smirked. "My friend, you are a man of very delicate sensibilities. You need a bottle of brandy and a shameless woman to cure you of them. Or a shameless man. Whatever you prefer."
Alistair was increasingly sure that this was a bad idea. And that was impressive, since he'd already known it was a horrible, rotten idea. "Yes. About that. . ."
"Are you trying to proposition me? Because I'll have you know, I need more than a convenient bathing pond, clean feet, and an awkward segue to get me into bed." Zevran paused, and then shrugged. "No, I lie. I don't really need more than that. Although if the foot-cleaning is your way of telling me about a foot fetish, then I will probably need a drink before we get naked." He paused again. "No, I won't, I lied again. Although I would not say not to a brandy."
Ugh. "Do you have to make everything awkward?" Alistair complained.
"I do not HAVE to, but I do enjoy it. And you really do not need my help to make anything awkward, Alistair."
Alistair grimaced. "All right. Point. But I do have. . . a question. For research's sake, you understand."
"Ah. Yes. I have always suspected you were a noted scholar. Morrigan has always felt that was a distinct possibility."
"I hate you." Alistair grimaced, and then dropped down to sit on a fallen log, averting his eyes as Zevran started stripping off his armor and clothes to wade into the clear water. "You've been with. . . people. People of all sorts, right? Women. . . and men?"
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"YES, thank you, moving on, please stop talking again," Alistair interrupted, ignoring Zevran's smirk. "I don't need stories. Or anecdotes. Or. . . descriptions. I just need some instruction. Basic facts only, please," he added in a rush.
Zevran gave him a blank look. "Alistair, the education you received in the Chantry is sadly lacking. But I am here to assist." He held up both hands, fisting one save for an extended finger, and then using his thumb and forefinger to form a circle with the other hand. "You see, the male body is equipped with-"
Alistair cut Zevran off as he began making lewd thrusting motions with the outstretched finger into the hole. "Not THAT kind of instruction! Not anything to do with where babies come from, either, Wynne already tried to tell me that when she thought I was sleeping with. . ." Alistair trailed off. "Not that I was."
"Of course not. I would not dream of implying such a thing, as he is not same-sex inclined, or he would have been sleeping with me. He is sharing a tent with Morrigan. He is a very lucky, and very brave man."
Alistair ran a hand over his face. "Look, it's just. . . I figured if you'd been with men, and you know a lot of women, you might just have some advice. It's just the Chantry is sort of a bit. . . limiting. I know the basics but. . . well I shared a hall with other men, so it's not like you can get by without noticing some things. Not because I was looking-"
"Of course not. Just like you were not looking at my rear as I bent to play fetch with the dog yesterday."
"You noticed- wait. I was not looking!"
"Really, you should not be ashamed, why did you think I bent over to throw a stick anyway? As if I were so very eager to play with the dog. The goods were on display, my friend, there is no shame in looking."
"I wasn't," Alistair said, resisting the urge to cross his arms over his chest self consciously. "And anyway, it's not LOOKING if you SEE, since you were standing right in front of me. If you're going to say I was looking, you might as well say that Oghren was, since he was standing right there too."
"Ah, but he was. I am not entirely certain if he realizes that I am a man, most days, but either way, he is fond of looking. Unfortunately for him, my tastes do not run in his direction."
Alistair paused. "You mean. . . dwarves?" He was fairly sure that must be the case, since Zevran liked men and women and never made any attempt to hide that.
"Oh no, dwarven men and woman can be very charming, conveniently sized for some of my favorite activities, and shockingly full of stamina. I just prefer partners who bathe and do not smell like a foot."
"Oh." Well that made sense. "Anyway, now that you've given me yet another mental image I can never, ever be rid of, I just meant that I saw, so I noticed some things. . . about size in. . . relation to the other templars. And wondered if maybe you didn't have some. . . tricks. For when I get there. I mean you're a bit small-" Alistair stopped as Zevran leveled a brief glare his way that reminded him that the elf was a trained assassin, and it was probably best to not inadvertently insult the size of his elfhood.. He hastened to correct himself. "Not like that, I mean, you're an elf. So you're smaller, and you seem to like human men, and they're. . . bigger. And if you've been with dwarves then they're a good deal smaller. Erm, you know what I mean?"
"Putting aside your opinions on my relative size, what is it you are trying to ask me? If you have worries about girth, I will tell you that most women will say that it does not matter how big your dagger, just how well you wriggle it." Zevran paused and then added. "They are lying of course, but still, they will say it."
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Zevran paused again, staring at Alistair for a long moment. "Putting aside your very unfortunate choice of words in that comparison, you are worried that you're too large to be accommodated?"
Well. Now it sounded just stupid when you said it like that. "Never mind. It's not as if it matters anyway. I'll probably get eaten by an archdemon before I've a chance to. . . you know."
"Yes, at the rate you are going, this is very likely," Zevran agreed. Alistair considered telling him, again, that he hated him, but really he'd walked right into it, so he supposed he had no room to talk. He stared morosely down at his wet feet, wriggling his toes into the slightly squishy earth beneath them. It squished unpleasantly, Alistair decided that was an appropriate sound for his current mood. That's what he felt like, squishy and unpleasant and unwanted and destined to die a virgin. At least it was still better than the Chantry. Probably.
He was roused from his thoughts by the shadow of Zevran standing over him as he sat, having once again done that thing where he moved really quietly and appeared someplace. Alistair started, nearly falling backward over the log he sat on. "Do you HAVE to do that?"
Zevran was looking at him strangely. "No, but I do enjoy it." He cocked his head, and Alistair couldn't decide if he looked like the dog, right before he ran off to dig up some weird bit of something he found Maker knows where, or a carrion bird right before it swooped down to peck out someone's eyeballs. "This. . . problem you have. I could solve it for you. I have seen many different varieties and sizes. I could give you an objective view, and then practical advice on how to overcome your adversity."
"Can't you just. . . do that last part. Without the viewing?" Alistair asked.
"I could, but it would be less personalized." Zevran grinned and stepped closer a bare calf pressing against one of Alistair's legs. "And generalized advice, it does not always end well. Once I was trying to teach someone how to make a garrote, and she did not tell me that she-"
"Stop there. Please." Alistair's face felt hot, and Zevran was sitting very, very close. "I think that I'm probably better off asking. . . uh-" his mind stalled, unable to actually come up with a name, since that was how he'd ended up asking Zevran by default to begin with.
"Alistair, please. Let us not have pretenses between us. Your options are very limited. As you said, there is an archdemon who wishes to devour you, and not in the fun way, and a party full of very strange people. The eligible of whom are, for the most part, preoccupied with your Warden friend. We are here, you and I. We are still alive, despite many efforts to make us otherwise-"
"Including YOUR effort," Alistair interrupted.
"Yes, yes, we've covered that," Zevran waved the comment away. Alistair didn't miss the way Zevran's fingers brushed his shoulder in the process. "It is in the past. You really must learn to let things go. The point stands. I am here. And willing to teach."
"And then mock me later for it?"
"No, no, I would not do that." Zevran paused and then sighed. "No, I lie again. I would. But in this case, I will give you my word that I will not."
"I uh. . ." This was rapidly getting away from Alistair, and he felt a little quiver of heated interest that he thought he really ought to manfully ignore. "I like women." He was aware that it was a flimsy excuse even as he said it, since he wasn't entirely sure it was true. Well, he knew he LIKED women, he just didn't think he liked only women.
Zevran gave him a deeply scathing and highly dubious look. "Yes, well. However that may be, this will be for instructional purposes only. So it does not matter. And at any rate, when you are in the middle of a storm, any port will do, no?"
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"Mmm hmmm," Zevran said, leaning in closer, and sliding his hands up under Alistair's undershirt.
Alistair found himself both glad he'd already rid himself of his armor, and a little regretful, since maybe that would have been a deterrent. He probably wouldn't have done this if he had to think through getting that mass of metal off. He took Zevran's hummed sound and the wandering hands as agreement. "Rule number one - no one tells Morrigan. Or Leliana. Or Wynne. Or. . . anyone."
"My lips are sealed. Figuratively speaking, of course."
Zevran's grin turned wicked, and he licked his lips in a way that made Alistair swallow and momentarily forget what it was he'd been saying. He recovered, lifting his arms when he was prompted with a none-too-gentle nudge so Zevran could strip off the shirt. "Right. . . two, no more stories about people you killed."
"What about people I have slept with? Given the instructional nature of this, that may be an important reference point," Zevran said, sounding perfectly collected, and Alistair mentally damned him as a second later the elf's teeth scraped across his throat and his fingers pinched at one of Alistair's nipples and abruptly Alistair found it difficult to breathe.
"That. . . are there people you've slept with that you HAVEN'T killed?"
"Rule number two prevents me from answering that," Zevran told him, and then flashed that same wicked grin before ducking his head and flicking a pink tongue against the same nipple he'd pinched. Alistair was almost sure that he'd been joking, but he forgot to ask.
Maker, that felt. . .Alistair heard himself make a hoarse, strange sound and flushed hotter, feeling the heat stain his cheeks and unable to do anything about it. He couldn't do anything about the rising interest in other areas, either. "What. . . that's not. . . ugh, fine, then rule t-three-" Alistair abruptly lost track of what he was saying as Zevran moved, quick enough that Alistair blinked and missed it, suddenly finding himself with a lap full of elf, and Zevran. . . shifted, or ground down, weight pressing down in some mystically perfect way. Alistair clutched Zevran narrow hips instinctively, rational thought exiting his brain entirely in favor of shuddering at the feel of that.
Zevran licked along his jaw. "Rule three?" he prompted, face too close for Alistair to see him, but he could hear the smugness in the elf's voice, nonetheless.
Right. Rule Three. "Don't. . . no killing me. Not even afterward."
Zevran laughed, soft and warm next to Alistair's ear. "Agreed, my friend." He rocked his weight against Alistair again, and his fingers curled into Alistair's hair, tugging just sharp enough that it ached and somehow he didn't mind. "Now, you take my lead, yes? After this, you will be. . . a very educated man."
"Debauched, you mean," Alistair blurted.
"I think that I like your version better," Zevran decided. "Yes. Debauched and educated." He laughed again, but Alistair found himself not minding that much. It was possible he might not be able to mind anything when Zevran wriggled like that. "Relax," Zevran said, voice low and warm in some way Alistair only barely had time to recognize before Zevran's mouth was slanting warm and firm against his, kissing him with thorough deliberation as his hips rolled a slow undulation that made Alistair moan against his mouth, part his lips and let Zevran kiss him however much he liked, even if Alistair had sort of thought a lesson probably shouldn't involve kissing. Kissing was for. . . romance and the faintly dirty but usually saccharine sweet books he secretly used to steal from one of the sisters to read.
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Another kiss, this one ending in a sharp bite to Alistair's lips that somehow felt GOOD even while it stung, and then Zevran was sliding off his lap, and Alistair couldn't keep from tightening his grip on the elf's hips, trying to hold him there. Zevran twisted easily free and moved back a step, catching Alistair's hand and pulling. "This is better done on the ground, I think. Or you will fall off the log, and falling is very rarely sexy."
Alistair blinked, letting himself be pulled to his feet, feeling awkward, strained laces of his pants almost painful against his hard cock. He half covered himself with his free hand until Zevran swatted it away, his eyes trained on the bulge there with something Alistair could only vaguely identify as hungry. "But. . . it's muddy," he protested faintly.
"And we are beside a pond with crystal clear waters. Very convenient, no? I will get you dirty, and then get you clean, all without going anywhere."
Right. Alistair let Zevran move him, dropping slowly to the wet earth behind the log he'd perched on, self-consciousness only heightening when Zevran abruptly vanished. He didn't have time to do more than start to worry before Zevran was back, a small pouch in his hand. And his undergarments already missing. Alistair couldn't deny the throb of want that shuddered through him and pulsed directly to his cock as he saw Zevran, neat blond patch of hair surrounding the erect length of him. Not that small, Alistair had to admit, based on his scant research, but. . . a good deal smaller than him. He felt a bit like a freak, again, but the way Zevran was looking at him made him wonder if it wasn't a good sort of freakishness, perhaps. "There are some things that can make this easier. I will show you." Zevran's voice was matter of fact, but still held that note of warmth was somehow sexy. Even if Alistair would rather have his tongue yanked out that admit it, since Zevran would only gloat. Probably.
Deft hands slid down his bare chest, pinching at each too-sensitive nipple, which shouldn't have felt as good as it did, on their way downward. He made swift work of Alistair's laces and then pushed the fabric down his hips, freeing Alistair's erection to the open air. Alistair automatically reached to cover himself, again, and his hands were caught, pinned against his stomach for a moment. Zevran was faster than Alistair would ever be, but he wasn't stronger. Even with the leverage behind it, he could have broken the elf's grip, but he didn't think to try, staring mutely upward and meeting Zevran's eyes instead. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, Alistair. Quite the opposite. Part of lovemaking is enjoying one another, so do not deny your partner the sight of you. I have never been a fan of shame in general, it seems a most pointless emotion, but in bed, especially, being ashamed of what you want and who you are just gets in the way of enjoying those very same things."
Zevran freed his hands, and Alistair settled them awkwardly at his sides, watching and unable to come up with any response to that. Zevran didn't seem to mind, since he went right on. "There are those who prefer a direct approach, but I think you will find that a bit of build up will be your friend. As well as much more enjoyable."
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Zevran slid down, straddling Alistair's thighs and bending over him, mouth sliding downward, a warm, wet path that stopped just shy of where Alistair fervently hoped it would go. "Or a clever tongue," Zevran said, teeth nipping sharply at Alistair's stomach. Alistair made a sound that was only half protest, and reached, fingers trying to fist in Zevran's hair, but Zevran leaned out of reach, tutting at him. "Pay attention." Alistair dropped his hand obediently, and Zevran rewarded him by licking a long, slow line along the length of him.
Alistair groaned, hips shooting upward and a wave of heated want washing over him, eyes squinting shut and fingers scrabbling in the earth, waiting for the second slide of Zevran's tongue, anticipating it with all his focus. "Ahem." Alistair unsquinted his eyes, peeking up to see Zevran still bent over him, bu now watching him with a strange mix of heat an sardonic amusement. "I did tell you to pay attention. Would you prefer we continue this at another time?"
Damn him. "N-no. I want. . . do that again. Please?" Alistair was going to kill him. Later. Maybe.
Zevran chuckled. "All right. We continue. As I was saying, the mechanics are a bit different with women, but in general, they will tell you how best to proceed. The tongue is of utmost importance with either gender." He bent his head again, licking once, then again, tongue sweeping over the sensitive had, tracing along the underside, and Alistair forgot to breathe properly, breath coming in strange, gasping huffs as he moaned, almost unable to hear himself over the rush of blood in his ears. He was actually a bit surprised there was enough blood making it to his ears, considering how it was all rushing downward.
"But of course, that is not the whole of it. There is hands. And lips, and suction, which are all key," Zevran told him, voice dim and Alistair wasn't sure if it was because he couldn't hear properly, or because Zevran was distracted by what he was doing.
Wet heat closed over the leaking head of his cock, and Alistair opened eyes that had shut themselves again, looking down in time to see Zevran's mouth sliding over him, one hand wrapping around the base, full lips sucking at him.
Maker, but that looked. . . Alistair didn't have words. He wasn't entirely innocent, he'd imagined this before. Not with Zevran, but with women. Even one dream he wasn't at all proud of involving him finding a way to shut Morrigan up, but the reality of it was. . . different. Zevran's hair falling around his face, lips stretched almost obscenely wide to accommodate Alistair, the low moan that somehow vibrated around him - it was an over abundance of sensation, and he groaned. "I can't. . . fuck," he breathed, hips straining upward again, feeling himself slipping, building about to-
"Ah!" The exclamation was half yelp of startled pain, and half almost pleasure as Zevran's hand squeezed painfully at his balls, twisting just enough that it hurt and pulling back, cold rush of air replacing the wet heat of Zevran's mouth, ruining the building orgasm, but leaving Alistair still painfully hard and unsatisfied. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, about to scramble away. "What-"
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Alistair tensed, though a pulse of unexpected desire made him groan, and Zevran's eyebrows climbed upward as Alistair flushed. "But that is a lesson for another day, I think," Zevran said slowly. "You talk a good deal less when you are naked, you know. I cannot decide if I find it a challenge, a relief, or a disappointment."
He didn't give Alistair time to gather a response before he was moving again, straddling Alistair, sitting astride him so that the aroused lengths of their dicks brushed together. Zevran rolled his hips, and Alistair was gratified to see a small shudder go through him too, as they rubbed lightly against one another, the friction only enough to tease without satisfying. At least he wasn't the only one feeling this.
Zevran wrapped one hand around Alistair, as best he could, grip tight enough that it was almost a little painful, but not quite, making him gasp instead. Zevran's free hand reached past Alistair, digging into the little pouch he'd fetched earlier, pulling out a small vial of something clear that smelled faintly of flowers when he opened it. "You will find almost any merchant of somewhat dubious goods has this stocked, but my personal preference is for the Orlesian flavor. It is just more decadent, somehow. A necessary accessory, should you lie with men, but for a man of your size, do not discount its use with women as well. Particularly if they are adventurous and open to alternate avenues of pleasure."
Alistair had no idea what that meant, but he didn't want Zevran to stop and explain, so he just nodded mutely, and looked down at his own hand as Zevran grasped it, wiping it clean with his own discarded shirt and then dribbling some of the fragrant oil over his fingers, and then doing the same to his own. Alistair rubbed his fingers together cautiously. It felt. . . cool and slick. "It's. . . slippery," he said.
"That is rather the point," Zevran said. He rocked his hips again, and this time, Alistair was used to it enough that he suspected it was a purposeful way to keep him from asking questions. It still worked though, even if he knew better. Zevran grinned and lifted up onto his knees, dragging Alistair's hand back. "Preparation will be of utmost importance. And by preparation, I mean using your fingers to prepare where other, more impressive organs wish to go." Alistair flushed and tried to pull his fingers away, suddenly less certain again. Not because it was distasteful. . . well it was a bit, when you thought about it. But it just seemed like it would hurt. Zevran made an impatient noise, somehow guessing his concerns without Alistair voicing them. (Which wasn't that surprising. Alistair was well aware that he had a deeply transparent face. Two hands of Wicked Grace with Zevran, Leliana and Oghren had proved that handily enough.) "Squeamishness has no place in the bedroom, you realize?"
"We're in the mud. Outside."
"Well, then my point is just all the more apt," Zevran said. He let go of Alistair's hand though, back arching and hips sliding forward, reaching back and hissing. Alistair couldn't see what he was doing, but the arch of his back thrust them together again, and the way his arm moved. . . Alistair could imagine it. He wished that he could see, though.
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"It can, but it - ah - it is the good sort of pain, yes? The kind that comes with a fire in your belly and a thrill of pleasure and makes you want more. Why else would we do this?" Zevran's arm shifted again, and he shuddered.
Alistair suddenly really wanted to be the one causing that. He reached with still-slick fingers, following the line of Zevran's arm until his fingers brushed against the elf's, feeling where two pressed between firm cheeks and inside him. Zevran groaned and then withdrew his own fingers, guiding Alistair's instead.
His fingers were thicker than Zevran's, and for a moment the small opening resisted, and then yielded, Zevran's hips shifting instead of Alistair's hands, as he was too afraid of doing something wrong to move on his own. Alistair didn't know what he expected, but the cool slickness on his fingers warmed with the heat of Zevran's body. He wrapped tight around Alistair, and both of his hands slid down to brace against Alistair's chest. When Alistair snuck a look at his face, his eyes were half-shut, look of focused pleasure on his face. "Yes, like that. That is good, now just - ah - deeper," Zevran coached, and Alistair obliged, two fingers edging deeper, moving in and out. As his nerves ebbed, he began to imagine himself thrusting into that tight heat, what it would feel like wrapped around his cock instead of his fingers, and he groaned, a little surprised, but gratified, when Zevran echoed the sound.
He let Zevran's movements and the words - less smooth now, tone bitten off as Zevran shuddered in reaction to the way he had Alistair's fingers thrust and scissor - guide him. He nearly jerked his hand away when the searching tip of his fingers brushed against some little spot of textured difference and drew an answering gasp from Zevran. Zevran grabbed his arm, grip iron-strong. "N-no, that is good, that is very good," he promised, and Alistair flushed, fingers moving again, repeating that same careful slide that left Zevran the one left moaning for once, instead of him. "For most, that would be enough, but for you, add a third finger, first," Zevran ordered, voice still holding that note of seduction, or so Alistair assumed it was, but also a bit shaky, which made him. . . proud, for some reason.
It seemed too much, the third finger pressing into that small, tight space. Somehow, it wasn't though, and though Alistair caught the way Zevran's jaw tensed, and his eyes fluttered at first, strain showing as Alistair eased a third finger inside him, it faded quickly, and when he found that same place inside him, the elf rocked onto his fingers, taking them deeper inside, and Alistair forgot to breathe again, for just a second, remembering the same moment as Zevran gasped a word of praise in a language Alistair couldn't understand. (Or he hoped it was praise, anyway. It seemed to be.)
Alistair's reluctance vanished, and turned into fascination as his fingers moved, curiosity overtaking him as he tried to find how best to stretch and thrust to make Zevran react. On a whim, his other hand lifted, wrapping around Zevran's cock and stroking him.
Zevran's hand caught his wrist again, stopping him, teeth caught in his own lip for a moment. "That is. . . enough," he said heavily. Alistair was, for a moment, disappointed. Until Zevran pulled away, letting Alistair's fingers slide free of him and he reached for the abandoned vial, dribbling more of the slippery stuff onto his hand and then sliding it over Alistair's dick as well.
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Yes. No. Parts of him were. Alistair didn't say any of it, just nodded mutely, and Zevran chuckled, catching his mouth in a kiss that felt a bit. . . kind, perhaps. "Do not look so worried. You've done brilliantly so far, and I will do all the work. I am looking forward to it. You just lie there and look impressive - you have that very well covered, I assure you." He gave Alistair's groin a meaningful look and a playful, light squeeze, and then he was moving again.
The way Zevran had to crouch over him, grip the erect length and hover over was the first time he'd managed to look at all awkward, and Alistair had to bite back something that felt suspiciously like a giggle from escaping.
The urge to laugh vanished though as Zevran brought them in line, sinking down. For a moment the blunt head of Alistair's cock pressed against him, denied entrance and then, bit by bit, Zevran sank down, tight hole stretching wide to take him in. Alistair remembered how Zevran's lips had looked, stretched wide around him, and pushed himself up onto his elbows again, unable to help trying to see - wanting to watch Zevran's body stretch for him, take him inside, almost disappointed he couldn't really see where he breached the tight entrance and connected to him, slipped inside of Zevran who seemed to small to take him, but somehow was anyway.
Zevran was quiet, eyes shut and face tight. Alistair had thought that the three fingers he'd used must have been enough - he couldn't be any wider that that, could he? From the look of mixed pain and hunger on Zevran's face though, he was, and Alistair fought the urge to move, thrust up into the heat of him, letting Zevran set the pace.
The pressure was almost too much, almost enough to hurt, but instead it was perfect and overwhelming and Alistair tried to say that - to warn Zevran that his head was rushing and he could feel his cock pulsing and his balls tightening. All that came out was a strangled groan that sounded, even to him, too-needy and much, much too loud.
He was almost gone when Zevran reached down again, fingers sliding to the base of him and squeezing once, too hard, not letting go for a second. When Alistair got over the sharp wave of pleasure-pain from it, Zevran's fingers pressed into his belly, blunt nails digging half moons into his skin. "Not yet," Zevran said, and it was strained and bitten off - an order and not a request. Somehow, Alistair managed to obey. He was used to taking orders, after all.
He held perfectly still and didn't come, though he ached to move and let go and thrust all the way inside and feel what it was like to be buried to the hilt inside of Zevran's ass when he came. Zevran rewarded him with a lean, sharp smile and leaned down, mouth finding his in a brief kiss. before he took a deep breath.
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Oh, by Andraste's lacy knickers, he was having sex, he realized suddenly. And it felt. . . Alistair hadn't known. All the talk about sex and the innuendo and Alistair's unsubtle attempts to overhear what the others had to say about it - none of it had really prepared him for this. His hands crept up, one gripping at Zevran's thigh, the other wrapping around his cock, stroking him as Zevran moved. Zevran groaned. "Yes, that is. . . very good. Pleasure to counter the pain until the pain is forgotten. Or just another. . . kind of pleasure. Like that, ah, I'm all full of you, Maker, we should have done this MUCH, much sooner."
Alistair sort of agreed, and he groaned, hips rocking up to meet Zevran, unable to hold still anymore, though the elf didn't seem to mind, slamming down harder onto him, moving faster and then hissing, reaching down to cover Alistair's hand with his own, move it faster over the length of his cock. "Yes. Now!" he said, and clenched tightly around Alistair.
That was enough, and Alistair arched up into him, hips leaving the ground and then slamming back down into them as Zevran's weight came down to press him into the ground beneath him. Alistair's eyes rolled back as he came, buried so deep inside Zevran he was amazed that Zevran wasn't aching with it. Zevran's fingers tightened around Alistair's, keeping his hand moving when Alistair lost control, a few more hard strokes and he was coming in warm spurts across Alistair's hand, over his chest.
Alistair was panting and mindless, lost in the glow of orgasm as Zevran rode it out, hips rocking weakly, dragging it out for them both until he gave a loud, satisfied sigh and then dropped bonelessly onto his back beside Alistair. For once, Alistair didn't mind the fact that even when he was just sighing Zevran managed to make it sound both smug, and dirty. He whimpered at the loss of Zevran wrapping around him, and made a face as Zevran laughed, a slim arm draping over his chest. "And now you need a bath. Shortly. As do I, when I can move a. Do you think if I compliment Wynne's bosom again, she will give me free healing?"
That brought Alistair's eyes open, and he looked over, concerned. "You're hurt? But I thought-"
"Sore only, my friend, and well worth it, I promise. I am stabbed, tackled, stomped on by ogres, and assaulted by drunken dwarves on a semi-regular basis, these days. Sore is a common thing, and this is the very best kind." Zevran paused. "You know, you do have the basics now, but there are many, many varieties and nuances to attempt. Should you feel future lessons are in order."
Oh Maker, yes. "Uh. . . yes. I think that might be. . . yes. More lessons." Alistair shut his eyes again as Zevran laughed. "You still can't tell anyone, though."
"Pity. There are some lessons best learned by inviting along a friend or three. Leliana, perhaps. If she can be convinced." Zevran's hand slid down, wrapping around the softening length of Alistair's cock, and when Alistair turned his head to look, Zevran was smirking again, eyes sliding pointedly downward to where his hand was. "Then again, perhaps some treasures are best kept to myself. So that they are not overworked." Alistair groaned, and leaned in, silencing Zevran's laughter with a kiss. Zevran seemed surprised, for a moment, by the initiative, but then subsided, arm curling back across his chest as he kissed back.
~End~
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absolutely delicious stuff.
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This was fucking awesome. Not only was the sex super-hot (and if that was all, I would still be OMG thrilled) but the characterization was excellent! The banter was so spot-on I could actually hear their voices. You did an amazing job, A!A, and OP loves you for it!
(OP is still amazed to be getting two awesome fills for her prompt... not to mention a possible third! Naw, I'm not greedy, lol!)
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