Dragon Age: Origins/Awakening, Part 4: Permanently Frozen
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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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