bamftastik
in
zevran
More Origin Angst & Sexy Times
Quite a bit of setup in this one. Also, smut. Drama starts in earnest next round (and not the kind you'd think).
Previous Chapters (also NSFW): ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR
Title: Insufferable, pt. 5
Pairings: Zev/Taliesin, Zev/Rinna
Rating: NSFW
Words: 2,200
Summary: Zevran, Rinna and Taliesin set out on their assignment but, as expected, three's a crowd.
Shifting the crate, Zevran adjusted the last of the straps. He could feel the eyes on him, hear Larin’s sigh as he leaned his elbows on the opposite side of the wagon bed.
“I assume you have a plan? A reason…” He nodded to the crates, the empty barrels. “…for all of this.”
“I do.”
“I have heard something of these… Grey Wardens. And while I understand the need for strength of numbers…” His eyes strayed to the other half dozen men milling about. “…it hardly seems a fair fight.”
“If a fair fight is what you are looking for, my friend, it would seem that you are in the wrong line of work.”
“True enough. But the women…? Why do you need them? Beyond the obvious reasons, of course.” He grinned.
Zevran straightened now, meeting the other Crow’s eyes. “As you said, I have a plan.”
“What? Strand them with the wagon? Have them call for help?”
“…Something like that.”
“Will that even work? A couple of whores seem beneath the notice of the mighty Grey Wardens.”
“You were in Denerim. There are whispers of them already. In the dark places, in the filthy places. Scorn from above and awe from below.”
“Heroes of the people, then?”
“We can only hope.”
Larin moved round the wagon, leaning close as he lay a hand on his arm. It squeezed there, lingering. “Let us hope that these Wardens are bigger fools than you are.”
* * *
“Did you at least hire a wagon?”
Leaning against the gate, Zevran smirked. “It is a job, my friend, not a holiday.”
“Yeh, but…” Taliesin grinned sheepishly. “He’s based out of Treviso, right? We could book passage on a ship, start the search in the north.”
“So now it is a cruise you fancy? Shall I serenade you as we paddle down the river?” He tsked, straightening to step closer. “Our merchant works the Coast Road. Not so efficient for a trader, but far cheaper than hiring ships. More dangerous too, more chance of… misfortune.”
“And that would be where we come in.” Taliesin smirked down at him.
“Indeed. And three afoot will attract far less notice than a wagon or boat.”
His eyes narrowed. “Three?”
Already Zevran was slipping round, having spotted her moving cross the courtyard. Her skirts were pinned high above flat and sensible boots, hair tied in a loose knot just above the pack on her back. Again the dress was new, the bodice low and fitted. He smiled.
“Ahh, Rinna.”
“Zevran.” She scowled up at the larger man. “Taliesin.”
His fingers gripped hard round Zevran’s arm, tugging him aside. “Could I talk to you a moment?”
“We shall all be working together, yes? Let us have no secrets.”
Folding his arms, Taliesin glared. “Seems to me you’re looking to use this job to get your hands up the bitch’s skirt.” He nodded for Rinna. “If we’re to have no secrets.”
“Go hump your mother.”
Chuckling, Zevran lay a hand on each of their arms, the laugh deepening as they stiffened. “‘Tis true that I could not hope for more beautiful company…” His smile included them both. “But, alas, the lady has already told me that it will not be.”
Surprise flickered behind her eyes, but he tilted his head, holding her gaze.
“And yet she has offered her skills. She is a tracker and knows the area.”
Taliesin folded his arms. “Has ties in the north, does she?”
“I grew up in an inn just south of Brynnlaw, trained with the guild in Seleny.”
“An inn, huh? Bar wench, were ya?”
There was something of a growl beneath her snort.
Taliesin, though, only smirked. “Fine, have it your way. So long as she doesn’t slow us up.” He turned, hand snaking behind Zevran’s head to tangle roughly in his hair. The kiss was hard, thick, his beard grinding harsh against Zevran’s lips. Taliesin stepped away without a word, striding quickly through the gate.
Rinna raised a curious brow as she slipped round to follow, leaving him to grin wonderingly after.
* * *
The path rose steep, snaking through the brush to break from the main road. Wide as it was, the road held close to the shore, bounded on one side by wooded hills, on the other by a steep drop to the rocky beach below. It was these hills that they climbed now, the treeline running parallel and above the highway. If only their mark had chosen this spot… but, ahh, that would be too simple.
He could hear Taliesin grumble as the slope steepened, glaring as Zevran shot him what was certainly meant to be an encouraging smile. But still the man lagged behind, allowing him a brief moment’s respite.
As he crested the hill, Rinna offered her arm, her fingers warm and firm against his elbow. Mirroring the grip he lingered, pouting playfully as she turned away.
“You didn’t have to tell him, you know.”
“Tell him what?”
“Where you are from.”
She shrugged. “What does it matter where I’m from? Give him something now to get something later. Let him have the unimportant details.”
And it had worked, had it not? Zevran grinned. “Brynnlaw?”
She only shook her head, turning to continue up the path.
The hand fell heavy against his shoulder, breathing coming panting against his ear. “Thanks for the help. You insufferable bastard.”
Smiling still, he turned, arching upward to lay a kiss on Taliesin’s cheek. “That I am. Now come.”
As she slipped between the trees, he heard the man curse beneath his breath.
* * *
The path had remained wide throughout the day. Not so wide as the road below, true, but the overlook was well-traveled. Thieves, bandits, the occasional assassin… such a convenient trail for ambushing was almost a highway of its own. But still there had been no sign of their quarry.
They had moved away from the path as the sun sank, making camp in a small clearing. The fire burned low now, the night’s pot long since cool, but still he sat, resting elbows on his knees.
She had fallen asleep with her back to the flames, defensive, her limbs tensing even in rest. Her hair had slipped free of its ribbon, spilling long and dark across the grass. He nodded, eyes heavy, for a moment imagining it pooled beneath her like so much blood.
Zevran started, the cough behind him bringing him to his feet. Taliesin leaned shadowed beneath the trees, slipping away with an inviting nod.
Sighing, Zevran followed.
“So is it an elf thing, then?” He stood, facing away, squinting out into the shadows.
“Is what an ‘elf thing?’”
“Sleeping in the woods. She makes it look easy enough.”
He laughed, slipping an arm round the other man’s waist to pull him close. “Ahh, but I am an elf and there is little that I would not trade for a warm bed tonight.” His grip tightened, tiredness fading. “Silken sheets, soft pillows, perhaps a bit of rope…”
Taliesin turned, but the smile did not reach his eyes. “And you and her? That an elf thing?”
“Oh ho! Is it jealousy, then?”
He snorted, folding his arms. “Call it curiosity if you must. She hates you and yet decides to come. Works with no one and yet joins us. I don’t trust it.”
“Is it not enough that I do?”
After a moment, he nodded. “But bringing a woman? Here?”
“They do have their uses, you know.” Pressing close, he grinned up at him.
“Ah. Knew it was a load of horseshit. But she turned you down again, did she?”
Still he could not say where the lie had come from, but it was too late to turn back now. “Alas, she did.”
“Guess it’ll be entertaining, at least, to watch you try.”
“And you? You have come along for the entertainment?”
“Something like that.” Trailing a finger along his chin, Taliesin bent his lips to his.
* * *
He had waited until the snores deepened, stirring thick and hot against his hair. Taliesin’s arm was draped heavy cross his waist, the fingers flexing involuntarily as Zevran slipped away and to his feet. Never had he been able to abide sleeping on the ground, not since he had risen high enough to be permitted a mattress of his own. As for Taliesin’s jests about elves… Shaking his head, he snorted. Perhaps he could still salvage a few hours in the meager comforts of his bedroll before dawn.
The fire had burned low by the time he made his way back to camp, their gear still stacked untouched. Rinna’s blankets, though, lay thrown aside, empty. Crouching, he trailed a finger there, tilting his head as he stared toward the trees. After a moment, Zevran smiled.
The stream had not been far, the whisper of the leaves doing little to mask the muted splash, the half-heard strains of song. Slipping through the shadows, he leaned against a tree at the water’s edge.
Her back was to him, hair trailing long and dark across the gently rippling surface. She traced a hand there, cupping the water to let it trail down one arm and then the others. Bringing them together, she raised a generous handful to pour across the parts he could not see.
Pulling his leathers over his head, he chuckled. “It it beautiful, that song. What is it?”
Still her fingers played across the water’s surface, stirring idle ripples there. She had not started, had not been surprised to find him there, but still she did not turn. “Just something my mother used to sing.”
“Ahh, your mother. If the woman is half so beautiful as the song, I think I should like to meet her.”
Rinna did turn then. The water lapped round her belly, but she made no move to cover herself. Nor did she bother to hide her smirk as she watched him bend to slip free of his breeches. “She’s dead.”
He tsked, dipping a testing toe into the stream. “As is my own. But such is the way of mothers, it seems.”
She slipped away, sinking low and tilting back her head to let the ripples of his steps wet her hair. Running untangling fingers there, she watched him.
“They are healing well.”
“Mmm?” In truth he had almost forgotten about the scars.
She stood, the water cascading in rivulets cross neck and breast and belly as she moved to stand behind him. After a moment’s hesitation, she again cupped her hands, lifting gentle streams to run across his back.
The water was cool, but he had endured worse pain than this. Still, he smiled as he hissed.
“Faker.”
He turned, grinning down at her, the upraised hand fluttering now against his chest.
Rinna held his gaze, holding through the long and silent moment before quirking a suspicious brow. “What?”
His hand dipped beneath the surface, slipping round the back of her thigh, drawing her close. As her knee hooked round his hip, she smirked, surprised to find him ready. Hands sliding up and cross her ass, he drew her closer still.
“Are you sure your friend won’t mind?”
He laughed, giving her a playful squeeze as she rolled against him. Such warmth, despite the cold pricking cross their skin, all the waters of the stream nothing to the welcome waiting there.
“I’ve heard about you, you know.”
His hands slipped higher, wrapping tight round her waist as she rose above him, the surface of the stream breaking into ripples as she sank and rose again. He held her there, pillowing his head against her chest. “And yet…”
She traced fluttering fingers up his spine, hesitating only a moment before stroking them through his hair. “And yet.”
Straightening, he moved backward toward the shore, her thighs wrapping tighter as he bore her with him. Still she pressed, faster now, his steps faltering as he fell back against the bank. Bracing her hands against his shoulders, she levered herself up, pressing him back amongst the reeds. She fell still then, leaning over him, the water from her hair falling in gentle droplets cross his cheeks. The tension rolled through her as she smiled, the moan blooming deep in his chest.
The kiss was fleeting, trailing down his neck as she rocked back on her heels, knees tightening round his chest. As he arched beneath her, hand sliding up and over her breast, head lolling amongst the grasses… and the warmth - such warmth - wrapping him round, Zevran laughed.
He had not known, had not thought that it would echo, would reach the eyes watching from beneath the trees.
* * *
But it was Larin that watched him now, shielding his eyes against the dust as the wagon lumbered away. The travelers that they had spotted from atop the hill seemed to be holding to their course, walking the main road toward Denerim. He had also spied a narrow bend in the pass, cutting through some low hills in the ground between. If this truly was the Wardens, they would have a day - perhaps two - to lay the trap before being overtaken.
And then, then it would be over.
Previous Chapters (also NSFW): ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR
Title: Insufferable, pt. 5
Pairings: Zev/Taliesin, Zev/Rinna
Rating: NSFW
Words: 2,200
Summary: Zevran, Rinna and Taliesin set out on their assignment but, as expected, three's a crowd.
Shifting the crate, Zevran adjusted the last of the straps. He could feel the eyes on him, hear Larin’s sigh as he leaned his elbows on the opposite side of the wagon bed.
“I assume you have a plan? A reason…” He nodded to the crates, the empty barrels. “…for all of this.”
“I do.”
“I have heard something of these… Grey Wardens. And while I understand the need for strength of numbers…” His eyes strayed to the other half dozen men milling about. “…it hardly seems a fair fight.”
“If a fair fight is what you are looking for, my friend, it would seem that you are in the wrong line of work.”
“True enough. But the women…? Why do you need them? Beyond the obvious reasons, of course.” He grinned.
Zevran straightened now, meeting the other Crow’s eyes. “As you said, I have a plan.”
“What? Strand them with the wagon? Have them call for help?”
“…Something like that.”
“Will that even work? A couple of whores seem beneath the notice of the mighty Grey Wardens.”
“You were in Denerim. There are whispers of them already. In the dark places, in the filthy places. Scorn from above and awe from below.”
“Heroes of the people, then?”
“We can only hope.”
Larin moved round the wagon, leaning close as he lay a hand on his arm. It squeezed there, lingering. “Let us hope that these Wardens are bigger fools than you are.”
* * *
“Did you at least hire a wagon?”
Leaning against the gate, Zevran smirked. “It is a job, my friend, not a holiday.”
“Yeh, but…” Taliesin grinned sheepishly. “He’s based out of Treviso, right? We could book passage on a ship, start the search in the north.”
“So now it is a cruise you fancy? Shall I serenade you as we paddle down the river?” He tsked, straightening to step closer. “Our merchant works the Coast Road. Not so efficient for a trader, but far cheaper than hiring ships. More dangerous too, more chance of… misfortune.”
“And that would be where we come in.” Taliesin smirked down at him.
“Indeed. And three afoot will attract far less notice than a wagon or boat.”
His eyes narrowed. “Three?”
Already Zevran was slipping round, having spotted her moving cross the courtyard. Her skirts were pinned high above flat and sensible boots, hair tied in a loose knot just above the pack on her back. Again the dress was new, the bodice low and fitted. He smiled.
“Ahh, Rinna.”
“Zevran.” She scowled up at the larger man. “Taliesin.”
His fingers gripped hard round Zevran’s arm, tugging him aside. “Could I talk to you a moment?”
“We shall all be working together, yes? Let us have no secrets.”
Folding his arms, Taliesin glared. “Seems to me you’re looking to use this job to get your hands up the bitch’s skirt.” He nodded for Rinna. “If we’re to have no secrets.”
“Go hump your mother.”
Chuckling, Zevran lay a hand on each of their arms, the laugh deepening as they stiffened. “‘Tis true that I could not hope for more beautiful company…” His smile included them both. “But, alas, the lady has already told me that it will not be.”
Surprise flickered behind her eyes, but he tilted his head, holding her gaze.
“And yet she has offered her skills. She is a tracker and knows the area.”
Taliesin folded his arms. “Has ties in the north, does she?”
“I grew up in an inn just south of Brynnlaw, trained with the guild in Seleny.”
“An inn, huh? Bar wench, were ya?”
There was something of a growl beneath her snort.
Taliesin, though, only smirked. “Fine, have it your way. So long as she doesn’t slow us up.” He turned, hand snaking behind Zevran’s head to tangle roughly in his hair. The kiss was hard, thick, his beard grinding harsh against Zevran’s lips. Taliesin stepped away without a word, striding quickly through the gate.
Rinna raised a curious brow as she slipped round to follow, leaving him to grin wonderingly after.
* * *
The path rose steep, snaking through the brush to break from the main road. Wide as it was, the road held close to the shore, bounded on one side by wooded hills, on the other by a steep drop to the rocky beach below. It was these hills that they climbed now, the treeline running parallel and above the highway. If only their mark had chosen this spot… but, ahh, that would be too simple.
He could hear Taliesin grumble as the slope steepened, glaring as Zevran shot him what was certainly meant to be an encouraging smile. But still the man lagged behind, allowing him a brief moment’s respite.
As he crested the hill, Rinna offered her arm, her fingers warm and firm against his elbow. Mirroring the grip he lingered, pouting playfully as she turned away.
“You didn’t have to tell him, you know.”
“Tell him what?”
“Where you are from.”
She shrugged. “What does it matter where I’m from? Give him something now to get something later. Let him have the unimportant details.”
And it had worked, had it not? Zevran grinned. “Brynnlaw?”
She only shook her head, turning to continue up the path.
The hand fell heavy against his shoulder, breathing coming panting against his ear. “Thanks for the help. You insufferable bastard.”
Smiling still, he turned, arching upward to lay a kiss on Taliesin’s cheek. “That I am. Now come.”
As she slipped between the trees, he heard the man curse beneath his breath.
* * *
The path had remained wide throughout the day. Not so wide as the road below, true, but the overlook was well-traveled. Thieves, bandits, the occasional assassin… such a convenient trail for ambushing was almost a highway of its own. But still there had been no sign of their quarry.
They had moved away from the path as the sun sank, making camp in a small clearing. The fire burned low now, the night’s pot long since cool, but still he sat, resting elbows on his knees.
She had fallen asleep with her back to the flames, defensive, her limbs tensing even in rest. Her hair had slipped free of its ribbon, spilling long and dark across the grass. He nodded, eyes heavy, for a moment imagining it pooled beneath her like so much blood.
Zevran started, the cough behind him bringing him to his feet. Taliesin leaned shadowed beneath the trees, slipping away with an inviting nod.
Sighing, Zevran followed.
“So is it an elf thing, then?” He stood, facing away, squinting out into the shadows.
“Is what an ‘elf thing?’”
“Sleeping in the woods. She makes it look easy enough.”
He laughed, slipping an arm round the other man’s waist to pull him close. “Ahh, but I am an elf and there is little that I would not trade for a warm bed tonight.” His grip tightened, tiredness fading. “Silken sheets, soft pillows, perhaps a bit of rope…”
Taliesin turned, but the smile did not reach his eyes. “And you and her? That an elf thing?”
“Oh ho! Is it jealousy, then?”
He snorted, folding his arms. “Call it curiosity if you must. She hates you and yet decides to come. Works with no one and yet joins us. I don’t trust it.”
“Is it not enough that I do?”
After a moment, he nodded. “But bringing a woman? Here?”
“They do have their uses, you know.” Pressing close, he grinned up at him.
“Ah. Knew it was a load of horseshit. But she turned you down again, did she?”
Still he could not say where the lie had come from, but it was too late to turn back now. “Alas, she did.”
“Guess it’ll be entertaining, at least, to watch you try.”
“And you? You have come along for the entertainment?”
“Something like that.” Trailing a finger along his chin, Taliesin bent his lips to his.
* * *
He had waited until the snores deepened, stirring thick and hot against his hair. Taliesin’s arm was draped heavy cross his waist, the fingers flexing involuntarily as Zevran slipped away and to his feet. Never had he been able to abide sleeping on the ground, not since he had risen high enough to be permitted a mattress of his own. As for Taliesin’s jests about elves… Shaking his head, he snorted. Perhaps he could still salvage a few hours in the meager comforts of his bedroll before dawn.
The fire had burned low by the time he made his way back to camp, their gear still stacked untouched. Rinna’s blankets, though, lay thrown aside, empty. Crouching, he trailed a finger there, tilting his head as he stared toward the trees. After a moment, Zevran smiled.
The stream had not been far, the whisper of the leaves doing little to mask the muted splash, the half-heard strains of song. Slipping through the shadows, he leaned against a tree at the water’s edge.
Her back was to him, hair trailing long and dark across the gently rippling surface. She traced a hand there, cupping the water to let it trail down one arm and then the others. Bringing them together, she raised a generous handful to pour across the parts he could not see.
Pulling his leathers over his head, he chuckled. “It it beautiful, that song. What is it?”
Still her fingers played across the water’s surface, stirring idle ripples there. She had not started, had not been surprised to find him there, but still she did not turn. “Just something my mother used to sing.”
“Ahh, your mother. If the woman is half so beautiful as the song, I think I should like to meet her.”
Rinna did turn then. The water lapped round her belly, but she made no move to cover herself. Nor did she bother to hide her smirk as she watched him bend to slip free of his breeches. “She’s dead.”
He tsked, dipping a testing toe into the stream. “As is my own. But such is the way of mothers, it seems.”
She slipped away, sinking low and tilting back her head to let the ripples of his steps wet her hair. Running untangling fingers there, she watched him.
“They are healing well.”
“Mmm?” In truth he had almost forgotten about the scars.
She stood, the water cascading in rivulets cross neck and breast and belly as she moved to stand behind him. After a moment’s hesitation, she again cupped her hands, lifting gentle streams to run across his back.
The water was cool, but he had endured worse pain than this. Still, he smiled as he hissed.
“Faker.”
He turned, grinning down at her, the upraised hand fluttering now against his chest.
Rinna held his gaze, holding through the long and silent moment before quirking a suspicious brow. “What?”
His hand dipped beneath the surface, slipping round the back of her thigh, drawing her close. As her knee hooked round his hip, she smirked, surprised to find him ready. Hands sliding up and cross her ass, he drew her closer still.
“Are you sure your friend won’t mind?”
He laughed, giving her a playful squeeze as she rolled against him. Such warmth, despite the cold pricking cross their skin, all the waters of the stream nothing to the welcome waiting there.
“I’ve heard about you, you know.”
His hands slipped higher, wrapping tight round her waist as she rose above him, the surface of the stream breaking into ripples as she sank and rose again. He held her there, pillowing his head against her chest. “And yet…”
She traced fluttering fingers up his spine, hesitating only a moment before stroking them through his hair. “And yet.”
Straightening, he moved backward toward the shore, her thighs wrapping tighter as he bore her with him. Still she pressed, faster now, his steps faltering as he fell back against the bank. Bracing her hands against his shoulders, she levered herself up, pressing him back amongst the reeds. She fell still then, leaning over him, the water from her hair falling in gentle droplets cross his cheeks. The tension rolled through her as she smiled, the moan blooming deep in his chest.
The kiss was fleeting, trailing down his neck as she rocked back on her heels, knees tightening round his chest. As he arched beneath her, hand sliding up and over her breast, head lolling amongst the grasses… and the warmth - such warmth - wrapping him round, Zevran laughed.
He had not known, had not thought that it would echo, would reach the eyes watching from beneath the trees.
* * *
But it was Larin that watched him now, shielding his eyes against the dust as the wagon lumbered away. The travelers that they had spotted from atop the hill seemed to be holding to their course, walking the main road toward Denerim. He had also spied a narrow bend in the pass, cutting through some low hills in the ground between. If this truly was the Wardens, they would have a day - perhaps two - to lay the trap before being overtaken.
And then, then it would be over.