Fic: Necessary Words 2/2, M, NSFW!!!

[1smut_princess]

XXX

Title: Necessary Words
Author: Rhion
Rating: M NSFW!!!
Summary: Zevran is in love. Madly. But every advance he has made was ignored, because Dailah thought their views were incompatible. Now he has to do something he tries to never do: Talk about FEELINGS.
Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue
AN: This is from an unfilled prompt on kinkmeme, which um, I suppose is now filled. It was written over the course of two days in a bout of insomnia that was eventually interrupted by passing out for a few hours and then finishing the last scene. Bellaknoti beta'd on the fly - in seven hours. There's some heavy perspective changes in this that I didn't change out because how this was posted/written was for the kinkmeme, and the reply boxes hold about four thousand characters.... so the perspective changes were logical at the time, and to change them now would make things even weirder. And cut out a huge chunk of the story. Not my usual way of doing things - rapid POV changes that is - so please forgives.

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She had thought Zevran would pounce on her like a wolf on a halla's back, once they had mutually convinced each other of the viability of a relationship. He hadn't, surprising her – yet again, which was becoming a rather disturbing habit – by tugging her to the couches and urging her to recline against him as he fed her finger foods. At first it was awkward, laying propped up on his chest between his legs, as he would reach out one handed to nab some morsel or other and press it to her lips. Then it became soothing, as under her head she could feel the thwump-thwump of his heart in his chest, and the rise and fall of his breathing shifting her up and down slowly, while his free hand massaged the tense muscles of her stomach with languid purposelessness.

Drowsy, Dailah played with the fingers that moved over her abdomen, alternately tracing knuckles and wrist to pluck at digits. If this was what the next few decades held for her, Dailah mused that she could certainly live with it. She felt relaxed for the first time in ages, no longer running away from Zevran and the determined Antivan's advances, and now there was also no Blight to worry about, at least, for another hundred years, not that she would live long enough to see it, nor had she any wish to. So, in some ways she was free at last, and in this moment Dailah allowed herself to revel in it.

“A sovereign for your thoughts, amora,” he murmured, the words accompanied by his fingers dragging through her unbrushed hair, then tracing the tip of a pointed ear.

For no logical reason, Dailah mumbled, “Why didn't you jump on me when I offered it?”

Behind her Zevran stilled, then chuckled. “I prefer if the woman is conscious, my dear, and aware of what is going on. How else am I to ensure her time spent with me is memorable?”

Squirming, accidentally jabbing Zevran in the stomach as she rolled over inelegantly – lounging on someone and maneuvering was actually more difficult than Dailah thought it would be – she caused him to raise a brow. “I'd think any time with you would be memorable.”

She settled into a position that allowed her to look into his eyes, chin propped on his sternum. “Tell me, how much do you remember of that evening, hmm?”

Dailah had to think about it a few moments, obviously, which Zevran had expected. “I remember kissing your neck as you carried me upstairs. And...” her brows scrunched tight over her nose, “And um.... your hands on my skin. And in my hair.”

“Ah, and do you remember what I was doing?” Seeing that she did not, he continued, “You had enough to drink that you could possibly have given our friend Oghren a challenge, and were sick with it. For a time, I was worried, and even made you drink charcoal in the hope it would absorb whatever was left in your stomach.”

A flush broke out over her face. “Sick....?”

Nodding, he tucked a few strands of loose hair behind her ears. “Quite.”

“How sick?” Her eyes narrowed, almost as if she didn't believe him.

“Very, and quite colorfully. As well as messy.” Zevran dug his thumbs into the sides of her neck, seeking the tension that lived there. “Everywhere, all over your bed, yourself, your dress, and my doublet and shirt.” Reiterating, so she couldn't refute his claims, “Everywhere. Quite an impressive display, but you never were one to do things in half measures.” Her eyelids drooped and she sighed, the magic of his hands doing their job. “And I had to bathe you, but I somehow managed to be a gentleman and not take advantage of the nude forest nymph that you became in the bath.”

She grunted in that way Dailah did when she was being too polite to scoff outright. “Somehow I think the vomit that must have been in my hair and all over my face may have had something to do with it.”

“No, that was removed quickly enough amora,” he replied, tapping the tip of her nose. “But you did seem to decide it would be a splendid thing to roll around in the tub splashing all over and giggling. You glowed querida, and covered in glistening water.” He sucked in a sharp breath, closing his eyes, remembering every detail.

“Trust me, I was sorely tempted, in spite of your need of my self control, and as I continued to struggle for calm, you, mi amora, you looked at me and asked me if I would abandon you since I was free – of my oath, of the Crows and of the responsibility of the Blight.” He tutted, grabbing her chin between thumb and forefinger, forcing his lady to meet his stern gaze. “I would promise you the world if I could gain it without having to leave your side. And so I pledged myself to you once more, as I had been looking for a chance to do so for some time, and to find the nerve as well. And what do you do querida? Hmm? You forget that moment. To be sure, I thought you most cruel, or that I must truly be unworthy, when you constantly sought to distance yourself from me. What was I to do then, but accept that I was too far beneath you?” Zevran saw the hint of self flagellation growing in Dailah's expression and cut it off, softening his chiding with a kiss to her inked brow. “Which is why amora, I do not take advantage of women in their cups, who may be unable to recall important details later on.”

Guilty as charged, Dailah scooted up higher on his chest so they were nose to nose. “I'm sorry. I... asked Oghren how I could gain strength to do something difficult, and he gave me a bottle of his whiskey and said -” She dropped her voice as far as she could push it, roughening it around the edges. “-'liquid courage'll get ya through the day girlie'. And so I drank it. The whole bottle, I'd just finished it... I think when you showed up. Things got a little fuzzy around then.”

Laughter bubbled up, Zevran's arms coming around to hold her in place even as his shaking jostled her around. “I imagine so amora! Fuzzy indeed.”

Dailah waited for his mirth to settle before finally asking, “So riddle me this: how was it you were able to know everywhere I went, sometimes before even I was sure of my destination? If, as you say, you felt like you should allow me to push you away..... how is it, no, why is it that you kept following me?”

“Romantics for powerful friends makes for compelling arguments,” he said. He stretched out beneath her, back arching, and made Dailah suddenly very aware of his body. “I could say I was bullied into it, but I take responsibility for my inability to ignore notes sent to me that told me where you, my beautiful lady hawk, would be. I am a weak, weak man – just do not tell anyone, it would ruin my reputation, no?”

“Leliana was in on it? On this?” She propped herself up on her elbows, glancing significantly at their surroundings, not very surprised.

“Yes, as well as Wynne; in fact, it was she who suggested I take you somewhere comfortable and somewhat remote from the palace, alone, while Leliana looked for reasons for me to do so.” The leg that wasn't pressed to the back of the couch slipped to the floor, making room for Dailah so that she was resting fully between his muscular thighs. “I could think of no other place than the Pearl, as I've used it as refuge often enough for myself when court life overwhelmed me.”

Dailah shifted around, discomfited by the reminder that Zevran must have been a frequent visitor. “Oh.”

He read a wealth of meaning into her quiet utterance, and moved to reassure her. “I sampled only the wares of bed, bath and privacy, querida. I am a starving man who wishes a meal, not the mere scent of one. They could fill no needs that I have, that wouldn't easily come for free by my Maker-given hands, especially after seeing you in a bath and pledging myself to you once more.”

She eased visibly, but it was subtle, for he knew she wasn't the sort to judge his needs, but Dailah was quite inexperienced and unsure of her own appeal. Zevran idly wondered when the last time she had actually looked at herself was, for while she wasn't some court-bred beauty, Dailah was as lovely as a well made blade, forged by a master craftsman. However, it was obvious that she had discounted his compliments and those of others as mere lip service, paid for no reason other than wanting something of her.

“A meal?” she asked, frowning in puzzlement. “But... I'm... I'm not like Lanaya, or... or even Leliana, let alone Morrigan.”

“Hmm... This is true; you are not like any other but yourself. I would have you no other way.”

She scooted back to sit up, which Zevran allowed, remaining stretched out before her. “I don't think I'll live up to your expectations, Zev.”

“I have no expectations but for you to be yourself querida, none at all,” he said, mirroring her actions. “Allow me to show you?” he asked, reaching for her waist. Seeing her hesitancy, he rushed to reassure her. “Unless you wish to wait to find a Keeper, to make a formal Bonding between us?”

Dailah was floored by the offer, and further confused. “You don't want me now?”

Zevran made a face, almost as though having bitten into something sour. “Not want you now? I want you always mi amora, mi bonita querida. I have waited long, but I can wait some time more, if you wish it. Believe me, if you will allow me to show you how much I want you now, to devour you whole at this time, or any other, I will do so, and gladly.” Scoffing in a grumbling mutter, sounding almost like a crotchety old man, he muttered, “Not want you now, bah. I should take some swabs to your ears to clean out whatever is blocking my words from your mind.”

Blushing, “We don't have to wait. I've waited too long, and so have you.”

She thought Zevran was about to explode when the words registered stopping him mid-grumble. “Truly you are a difficult woman to – wait. Pardon? Come again? Did you say....”

“I know the mechanics Zev, I'm not stupid. I've seen the halla do it, and it does look a little awkward, but if everyone else thinks it's so much fun, and -” she giggled as she continued, “-and since we've both waited so long to stop miscommunicating...”

“You've seen the halla 'do it'?” he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “You and I will not 'do it', we will make love, we will make the earth shatter around us, we will make each other quake with completion, we will -”

Dailah could take it no longer, giggling and choking on it, at the astonished and somewhat outraged face Zevran was making, and grabbed him by the shirt hauling him in for a kiss. She wasn't exactly sure of what she was doing; other than the one bumbling kiss Alistair had foisted on her during the Blight – which had made Dailah want to sink into a hole in the ground for she hadn't understood that what Alistair had been wanting from her wasn't brotherly love, but of a more man-woman sort – Dailah had never really done anything of the kind before. Zevran sputtered for a moment before taking control, angling her head to the side which granted better access and... Oh. Melting, Dailah sighed through her nose as his hands tangled in her hair; Zevran's mouth opened and his tongue slithered around the inside of her lips before teasingly burrowing in to touch hers. And, oh, Dailah had never felt something like that. It was a bit like dying, or so Dailah thought.

Just when Dailah believed she could feel no better, Zevran was pressing her back, back and back to lay against the couch; their positions switched and he settled between her legs. His hips fit neatly against her thighs, and at some point he must have freed a hand, for he was adjusting the skirt of her dress so he could lay more comfortably on her, and Dailah felt something hard through the cloth of her dress and his trews. Whimpering into his mouth, she arched, trying to get closer to him, to pull him as near as she could have her assassin. She was flying, this was a far cry from the release she granted herself most mornings to wake up.

She was writhing under him; legs freed somewhat from her skirt, they twisted and twined up and down the backs of his, wrapping a moment around his hips and then lower in a long, sinuous caress. Zevran moaned breaking away from her lips, gasping for air before diving into the column of her neck, nipping and sucking at the flesh there, rocking his hips gently against her wildly bucking ones. In his ear, Dailah was keening, and Zevran was startled by how quickly she peaked. He hadn't even really started yet.

Bracing his hands on the armrest, pressing the bulk of his weight on knees, hips and hands, Zevran pulled away enough to catch sight of her face. “Ah, querida, you are breathtaking when you fall apart.”

Color was painted all over cheeks and neck, a few darker spots near her jugular from his mouth's attentions; Dailah: the very essence of a sweet, wild thing. “Gods, Zevran.... That was... um.”

“Marvelous,” he supplied. He leaned down to suck on her bottom lip, tonguing it, before pulling away once more. “There is something to be said for remaining so untouched that the smallest of new things could bring you such joy. I am glad to be the one here, experiencing this alongside you.”

Uncertainty began to show in her countenance once more, as she wriggled beneath him in a most fetching way. “I'm not... exactly without some... knowledge. Of myself that is, not.. not with someone else.”

“Ah good, you are unafraid of your body, splendid,” he murmured, nuzzling his face against hers. “There is little worse than being ashamed of one's body, my sweet Dailah, and you should never deny your needs over something so stupid as image issues, for you, querida, are lovely in all ways, and should know your body. I wish you to show me some time, if you are of a mind. For now, I would like to learn you, myself.”

“Can I, may I um... learn you too?” Shy hands pressed on his pectorals, rubbing over them through the linen of his shirt.

Fervently, he replied, “You certainly may!” He rolled free and bounced to stand, holding a hand out to Dailah. “Shall we move our explorations to a venue better suited to it?”

Taking his hand, Dailah was hauled up smoothly. “Can I have a drink first?” she asked, glancing at the carafe of wine and Zevran's earlier abandoned half full glass.

“As you wish.” He grabbed the glass, and tossed the contents into the fireplace, making it sputter momentarily before pouring a fresh glass and handing it to her.

Dailah's hands trembled, and she pushed nervousness aside, gulping down her drink in two large swallows. Catching Zevran's small frown out of the corner of her eye, Dailah set the glass back on the table and bulled ahead. The drink was only to brace her nerves, she had barely tasted it, but maybe the Antivan thought she may be seeking to drown her anxiety as she had before. Reassuring him the only way she knew how, Dailah took his hand in hers and strode to the bedroom, rather than allowing him to lead. Of course, soon enough, she would be following him but she could at least prove her willingness in this small way.

Gaining the bedroom, Dailah had to pause, and so suddenly that Zevran bumped into her back. Nimble hands went around her waist, steadying her; Dailah felt Zevran's breath in her hair and she heard his deep inhale when he pressed his face into the red mass. At her back, Zevran was like a wall of pure heat that was almost scorching, and she found herself leaning back into him.

Lips ghosted on a spot behind her ear. “And what would you like to try first, lovely Dailah, now that we are here? Hmm?”

“I don't know,” she admitted, haltingly. “I'm... afraid. I just... I don't know anything, Zevran. Not really.”

“I know.” His voice was soft, hypnotically soothing. “But I'll go no further than you desire, querida. I am yours.”

She Turned her head, hoping to see his expression. “Could you... show me?”

“I can show you anything you like amora.” He leaned forward, pressing his nose into her cheek. “What would you like me to show you?”

It was maddening; Zevran knew she didn't know anything. Nothing beyond her hands, the kisses on the couch, and his weight bearing down on her the one time. But still, he was asking her what she wanted. Well – she didn't know!

“Anything, anything at all, everything,” she breathed, her fingers clenching around his wrists. “Just... show me something.”

As fast as that, Zevran stepped away and around her. “Would you like to start here?” He asked, plucking at the hem of his shirt, showing a flash of toned stomach. “Or here?” He traced the collar of her dress.

He knew this was difficult for Dailah, but Zevran wanted to take this slow, and at her pace, not his. His body was crying out for him to hike her skirt and take her swiftly, but Zevran was not interested in that. No, what Zevran desired most was Dailah finding her own way, and in guiding her along until she knew exactly what she wished of him. Zevran was a patient man when he needed to be, and while he had known Dailah was inexperienced, he thought perhaps, maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't be her true 'first'. That maybe someone, somewhere had already made some headway with her, so she wasn't completely ignorant of what she wanted. It complicated matters somewhat, for she had no idea at all where to start, and it was frustrating for him, not just Dailah.

She Fidgeted with the material of her dress, staring at the vicinity of his feet. “I... ah.. I guess -”

“Me first then, as I have had the pleasure of seeing you bare, but you have not had the same of me.” he offered, taking his cue. Zevran dragged his shirt over his head slowly, so as to draw her gaze back to him. If they had undressed her first, Dailah would be made too vulnerable too quickly. Tossing the shirt aside, he purposefully fumbled with the knots on his trews, “Brasca, how is it they always get so tangled?” At Dailah's muffled laugh, Zevran glanced up. “Ah, since your fingers are more skilled with undoing that which is locked away, a helping hand would be nice, querida.”

She wasn't sure if he was doing it on purpose, but Dailah set to the knots of his trews. “If you really could pick locks, you wouldn't be in this predicament.”

“You wound me,” he said, pressing a palm to his chest. “We didn't need armies to slay the Archdemon, merely your sharp tongue could have done so with no help at all from the rest of us mere mortals.”

Rolling her eyes at him, Dailah got the laces undone in short order; this was a task she could focus on. “Maybe we should tell the archivists at Weisshaupt, for future generations, then. No need for swords, only caustic tongues. Do you think they would teach classes on it?”

Dailah paused as his trews slipped lower on his narrow hips, revealing a trail of dark gold, verging on brown, hair that disappeared into his pants. With only a little push, the material would slide the rest of the way down and Dailah would be faced with a very naked Antivan Crow. Warm palms lay on the rounds of her shoulders, causing Dailah's head to jerk upwards, and Zevran was looking at her. He was so near, so close, that her head swam, and the tantalizing hairs that brushed the backs of her fingers where they had hooked into his waistband made Dailah even dizzier. One small step, and the weight of cloth took Dailah's choice away, the material falling to pool at his feet to be kicked free.

“Look at me Dailah,” he commanded, his voice husky. His hands glided up along her neck, holding her head. “Look at me querida, touch me wherever you will. I am here for you, amora, I am not going anywhere. Take your time, but just...” His lips pressed over her cheeks and jaw. “Just touch me. Por favor, mi amora, spare me the pain of doing without your touch. Please.”

With an entreaty like that, Dailah could no nothing else but touch Zevran.

Licking her lips, she settled on the somewhat neutral ground of his shoulders. She had seen them before, had sewn several of the wounds closed that left behind scars there. Focusing her eyes there, Dailah watched as if her hands were not her own, tracing white lines, and the winding black ink of tattoos. They were thick, far thicker than her own vallasin, and black as ebony, while hers were a muted tan. They crisscrossed this way and that, over the expanse of bronze, black and white, Dailah was mesmerized. How something that she had seen before could seem so new, she hadn't a clue.

“Oh Zevran, you're beautiful,” she whispered, blinking away what felt suspiciously like tears. “How can something so beautiful have sprung up from where you did? How -” she choked, and leaned forward to press a kiss to the center of his chest, over his heart. “How could anyone ever hurt you?”

That gesture almost unmanned him, and Zevran had to turn his face away, unable to take the depth of feeling it engendered. “Such is life, querida; people get hurt, whether they have earned it or not. But come, please, this is a happy thing.” Unsure, suddenly, he asked, “Is it not?”

“Yes,” Dailah nodded. She stood on her toes so she could kiss his chin. “Yes it is. I am happy to be blessed with you as my friend, as my confidant, and... and.. and my lover.”

Comforted, Zevran released the breath he wasn't aware he had been holding. “And I, you. Vir Tanadhal, things come in threes, do they not?”

Dailah smiled up at him, clearly pleased that he wasn't entirely ignorant of their shared heritage. “And so they do.”

With that she went back to mapping his upper chest, and Zevran let loose a sigh, happy that she was touching him, finally. Her fingers were gentle, and her gaze avidly lit up with each shiver that traveled over his skin in response to her caresses. With near-aggravating slowness, Dailah swept lower and lower, so much so that Zevran had to bite his inner cheek to halt a hiss when the tip of one finger tickled near his belly button.

“Please, querida,” he gritted, struggling. Zevran leaned his forehead to her shoulder. “Please, I've no wish to rush you, but may we... lay down?”

Distracted from her exploration, with a drugged quality to her voice, she murmured, “Lay... down? Yes... yes, lay down. Please.” She nudged him softly. “Please I want to... I want.. I want to touch you all over.”

That was all the encouragement Zevran needed to take the two swift strides to the bed, but he did hiss – he couldn't hold it in – when Dailah caught him about the waist, halting further motions, so that she could lick at the length of his spine. The move was so unexpected and sensual that he had to catch himself against the edge of the bed, only to have more wet swipes of tongue. He twisted around enough to see what, exactly, his Dalish was doing, over his shoulder; Dailah was laving over scars, the sort gained from whips and canes, mumbling something quietly in Elvish into the skin, all of which was torture of a different sort, one that no Crow training could have prepared him for.

Rolling over onto his back was his only route for of escape, and he scooted farther up the bed, watching as Dailah followed right after. She had rucked up her dress to mid-thigh, freeing her to move with greater ease in her pursuit. Zevran hoped that there wouldn't be much more of scar licking and kissing with prayers whispered over them, for he didn't think he could withstand it. Not right now; possibly never. So much tenderness in such concentrated doses would leave Zevran crying and whimpering for reprieve; for a whole life without tenderness, it was too much, all at once.

Dailah finally became aware of Zevran's gasps, the vibrating tension in his muscles as she straddled his waist, so focused on his old scars – the very same he had once told her to disregard, as he did, as if they would simply disappear by willing them to – that she stopped. It had been like a madness that overtook her, she had been powerless to stop the urge. His fists were clenched and knotted into the sheets, and Dailah slumped to the side, slithering free. She had only meant to worship and ease every little bit that had added up into the man beside her, not to torture him.

She hid her face in the side of his shoulder. “Zevran?”

“Si, amora?” he asked, panting, regaining his wind.

“What should we do next?” she asked, begging him to lead now.

He rolled to his side, propping himself up on an elbow, and Dailah made herself match his gaze. “You are finished?” he asked, sounding surprised. “But you have not touched me everywhere, as you wished.”

Worrying at her bottom lip, she confessed, “It looked like I was hurting you. I don't want to do anything that hurts you. Not at all.”

“Ah, querida.” He laid his head on her breast, ear to her heart. “You didn't hurt me, mi amora, it was simply... more intense, your touch like that upon me, than I had expected.” An arm wormed under her back, the other draped along her side. “You have a startling tendency to touch me in ways that I do not expect, and I am simply unused to it. I suppose that, in some ways, this puts us on an even footing? I shall be touching you in ways you were unaware of, and you do the same to me. Poetic, no?”

“Baby steps, then,” she said, staying firm. Dailah had seen the anguish, the fight inside Zevran, when she actually looked at what her handiwork had wrought. She would be tender with him too, and take things slow for him, just as he was for her. An even footing, as he said. She wriggled so she could hike the hem of her skirt up over her hips, wanting the offending material gone as fast as possible. “I want to be naked to you, too. I want you to see me, I want you to show me how you see me.”

With heavy scrutiny, Zevran stared, and Dailah tried to show him that she was ready for whatever he wanted.

He must have been satisfied with what he saw, but still gave her one last out. “You are sure, then? Dailah, I... must warn you. Once I have you, I cannot let you go; not now. If you bear any doubt then please, tell me now, and I shall back off until you are certain. You have claimed too much of me to be apart from you, if we do this.” Dailah was sure she saw fear deep in his eyes, no matter that he tried to mask it. “You infest my blood, my bone, my mind, my soul, if I have one, with your kisses, words and touch. I am laid low at your feet querida, and it is frightening.”

Sitting up, a move that forced Zevran away, which brought down the heavy mask she thought they were long past his wearing, Dailah rose up to kneel. In a swift movement, her dress was gone, and a twist of her arms untied her breast binding, then a shimmy of hips, and she was naked as the day she came into the world.

“I want to say you're being silly Zevran Arainai,” she said, thrusting her hands into his hair. “But I know you're serious. We're both scared, for the same and different reasons. But I am yours. I trust you, and you trust me. You are mine, we are each others', aren't we? Doesn't that mean we belong to one another?”

“Si amora, just so.” A fair share of uncertainty was still held in the cat-gold eyes. “Forgive this poor man his insecurities. I only... after how your lips felt upon me, I appear to be as shaken as a maiden on her wedding night.”

Unsure of how exactly it came to be that she, the inexperienced one, was comforting the well-traveled one, Dailah lay back down, pulling him to rest partially atop her. “I'll be gentle, I promise.”

The looked-for smile came suddenly. “That may be entirely what is so intimidating querida. But I believe that you stole what was supposed to be my line.”

“Well, lock-picking and pickpocketing aren't skills you took the time to work on, so it's no wonder I plucked it from you so deftly.” She peppered kisses over his fine features, the way he had done to her earlier.

“Ah, so, so cruel.” The reverberation of Zevran's deep voice, so close to her, sent answering shivers over Dailah's body.

Dailah couldn't take much more, and whispered in one well formed ear, “Please Zevran. Join me, make us one. I'm not uncertain of who you are to me, of how I want this thing between us, no matter what comes.”

“First times can be tricky amora, let me -” In spite of the halfhearted protest, Dailah could feel the frayed ends of the golden assassin's control slip closer to snapping.

“Zevran -” She took his hand, feeling bold because Zevran needed her to be, Dailah bade him to touch her folds. “I am as ready as I need. Join with me. Bond with me, here; I need no Keeper to know I'm yours, and you mine.”

Long fingers stroked the dewy seam of her flesh. “You give me too many gifts Dailah, it drives me to distraction, so I fear that if I don't bring you another release now, you will gain none until after I have reached mine.”

“I don't care Zevran; please, Zev?” He felt her legs move, parting, the motion causing his casual probing of her sex to sink into the folds, still slick from the earlier orgasm on the couch.

Tracing along one delicate petal still with nothing but a digit, Zevran rose up so he could draw Dailah into another kiss, not answering with words. Once he had her attention focused solely on his tongue in her mouth and the twining war there, he pressed his index finger into her slowly, testing to see if there was a maidenhead that must be breached. There was none, only tight rippling muscles that clenched down on the intrusion, and Dailah's bucking, pushing the touch deeper. It appeared he would still have his way then, because Zevran kept Dailah's mouth too busy to beg him to take her as he prepared her with firm caresses to inner walls with first one, then two of the lean digits, while his thumb searched upwards until it felt the bundle of nerves nestled there, adding that pleasure to Dailah's experience.

Wandering hands ran over his shoulders to his back, and Zevran hummed in approval, enjoying both the groans rumbling in her throat and the grasping massage on the bunched muscles in his back. Dailah's knees came up, granting him deeper access to her femininity, begging wordlessly for greater speed to his ministrations, which Zevran obliged. Carefully scissoring his fingers open and closed with each thrust, Zevran didn't have to wait long before Dailah arched her hips from the bed's surface, thighs locking around his forearm, holding his hand in place, wailing into his mouth.

Knowing that he had her as prepared as either of their wills could take, Zevran maneuvered so he could kneel between her knees, placing a kiss on each trembling thigh, then each hip, to the thatch of hair over her sex. Holding her gaze the whole time, Zevran lay a line of kisses that took him to his destination of her mouth, once more. Dailah was holding out her hands for him during his trek until she could trace his cheekbones with thumbs, her own hands then going down to meet his member. The air caught in his throat when she grasped him, positioning his thickness at her entrance.

Dailah whimpered as she was gradually stretched to fullness, and she saw the utter concentration on Zevran's face, upper teeth sunk deeply into his bottom lip. A drop of sweat beaded at his temple and slipped down the length of his jaw, that distracted the Warden, calling for her to lean up and lick it away; the salt tickled her tongue. Zevran's arms shook where they were planted beside her shoulders, the toned skin of his hips pressed against her inner thighs, disjointed details filling her senses. It was overwhelming when coupled with the almost-burning that was only vaguely uncomfortable, originating in her sex.

When his manhood was as deep as it could get, seated at the mouth of her womb, Zevran paused, taking deep lungfuls of air, clearly steeling himself. Dailah didn't want his self control, only wanted his wildness meeting her in this. Leaning up to wrap her arms around his shoulders, her legs around his slim but muscular hips, Dailah pulled him tight to her, breathing in his exhales, sharing her air with him so that they were joined there, too. His weight bore down on Dailah, his heartfelt groan thrummed through his entire body and into hers, which Dailah echoed when he gave up the fight and moved.

“Aie, mi princesa salvaje,” mumbling into her ear, the Antivan words unfamiliar, but beautiful, when twisted with his roughened voice.

Dailah couldn't answer, only quaked from the circling, grinding and flexing hips that withdrew only far enough to crash back against her. Head tossing side to side, Dailah struggled to mimic the motion and broken rhythm Zevran set, bodies becoming slick with effort. Lips and teeth went from soft nibbles to the occasional outright bite as they both lost themselves in the other. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, and it was a fight to breathe, for Dailah thought she was coming undone from within; as soon as she could focus on one small thing, it slithered from her grasp like a river eel. Awash with what was like an endless completion, Dailah knew nothing beyond the world of Zevran inside and over and twined with her, like ivy on a trunk of a tree.

Unbeknownst to the Warden, she was crying out in a rising, falling moan, broken words in Elvish, Ferleden and Common. Zevran couldn't pay enough attention to translate most of the words, only the tone and expression on Dailah's face, which drove Zevran to the brink, and carried him over it in a hoarse shout. Onwards he pressed, unable to stop, shuddering, claiming her mouth to muffle her escalating cries. An eternity later, or maybe only a moment, they both froze; as her nails gouged the meat of his lower back, hazel-green eyes flying wide, pupils swallowing the iris then pinpointing, the spasming muscles of her core grabbed Zevran and hauled him along with her for a second time.

Collapsing as his arms gave out, unable to shift to even prevent from crushing Dailah, Zevran moaned, tucking his face into the side of her neck. “Amora, aie, the things, the things you do to me.”

Dailah whimpered in agreement, hugging him limply. “Uhhuh.”

That brought a chuckle from him, and spurred him to find the energy to roll free. “Speechless?”

“Hmmhmm,” she hummed, her head bobbing drunkenly. “Sl-sleepy,” she slurred, as she snuggled close, limbs twitching in aftershock.

“Then sleep, querida,” he murmured, caressing her tattooed forehead. “And I believe I shall join you in the Fade, for I too am done in.”

XXX

Awakening swiftly, as was his usual instinct, born of training, Zevran feigned sleep a moment longer, registering that someone was beside him. It took only a fraction of a second to come to the conclusion that he was safe, if not alone, tangled as the sleep-heavy limbs were with his own. Opening his eyes he saw Dailah curled into a ball, one leg wedged firmly between his, fist tucked under a chin, the other arm hooked around his shoulders, pinned in place by one of his own arms. Her mouth was pursed, face scrunched in sleep, but otherwise unguarded. Taking in the image and rare treat of such intimacy, of having Dailah burrowed in his arms, Zevran relaxed into it.

By increments, Dailah awoke, lips pursing and unpursing, nose wiggling side to side before a huge yawn and a feline stretch moved through her limbs. A tiny, guttural, rolling noise came from her throat as her eyes blinked away the sleep, with more stretching and rolling, that was almost a purr. Smiling Zevran watched the rest of Dailah's little ritual, having never seen it in person, but on the 'lazy' days they took during the Blight he had heard those grunts, growls and purrs when she woke at her leisure.

“You are like a gatita, with all this rolling about.” He searched for the word in Ferelden, a language he wasn't as familiar with as his native Antivan or the Common tongue, but had learned it through the best means possible: immersion. Most of their little troop had been native-born to the language, so they had all switched to it rather than Common for the most part. “A... small cat. A baby one. What is the word I need, amora?” He rubbed at the soft flesh that overlaid the muscle of her stomach.

Much as if she were a cat.

“Kitten,” she murmured, pressing up into his hand. Dailah rolled onto her stomach and knees, giving one last, long stretch that took her from her belly to her knees and back, spine cracking as it lengthened making her moan in relief. The hand on her took a meandering path, and Dailah found another little growl coming up. “You're petting me, Zev.”

“So I am,” he said, and she didn't have to glance at him to know he was smiling. “But you are much like a gatita – I don't like the Ferelden equivalent, sounds far too unflattering – with all this writhing around and these sounds you make.”

Finding herself pouting, Dailah flopped back on the bed, burying her face in a pillow that she had to drag from where it had been shoved aside earlier. “Do not.”

“Do too.” Copying her tone, Zevran moved to enfold her in his arms once more, sliding a leg over hers. “It is most becoming. I had always wondered what those noises were, and how I may work more of them from you when we traveled hither and yon.”

“I am too fearsome to be a kitten Zev,” she asserted, snuggling into him and tracing a tendon that flexed in his forearm while he continued to pet her, so he knew she was only teasing. “I'm a Gray Warden, and I kill stuff dead. Kittens are cute and fluffy and pounce on strings.”

Zevran pressed his mouth to her shoulder to muffle his chuckle. “Yes, you are most fearsome, gatita.”

She growled, much as he intended, pinning him with a stare. “So not a cute fluffy thing.”

“That pounces on strings, yes, I heard you the first time, gatita.” He didn't bother to hide the grin that stretched his mouth wide. “But what of this hair?” he taunted, twirling a strand of sleep fluffed hair around a finger, “And these faces you make? Hmm?”

Dailah rolled her eyes enough to outdo Morrigan. “So not a kitten. Besides, have you looked at your hair? All you need is some dirt smudges and leaves, and you'll look like a wild forest spirit.”

“We were not speaking of me,” he retorted, almost prim, but he did move to pat his hair, checking it and found it snarled within an inch of its life.

Changing the subject entirely, she asked, “So, um, what now?”

“What now? Hmm, I was thinking of asking you the same, I must confess.” The uncertainty that had wracked him earlier roared back to life.

Foolish man that he was, Zevran had believed that Dailah would desire more of him. More lovemaking, more words and vows, more shows of his devotion, but perhaps, now she had had him, she got what she wanted, uncharitable as that seemed, for hadn't she said she belonged to him? Zevran quickly brought his mask in place, waiting for rejection that would shatter him in spite of her professions of love. He paused, and realized suddenly that, no, Dailah hadn't once said it. Neither had he in a language she spoke, but Zevran thought she knew.

There was a weird quality to Zevran's voice, and she thought for a moment he may be regretting what they had done, and it was like there was a sudden yawning chasm between them, where moments before there had been none. Hurt beyond words, Dailah sought comfort from him anyway.

“Please, ma emma lath; I don't know what we're supposed to do next,” she whispered, pushing her face into the center of his chest.

When the question, and the Elvish contained therein, registered, Zevran felt completely stupid. “'Ma emma lath', I know one word of that, 'lath', it is... love, is it not?” swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Ma'arlath, I love you; yes, ma emma lath, you are my you are my love.” She nodded, and he saw large eyes peeking up at him from the vicinity of his chest. “That's... that's what you wanted me to admit right? What... what you said, asking for a Bond for -”

Cutting her off forcefully, Zevran kissed her as he had never kissed another. Or, so he hoped. Not with skill, not with ardor or lust, but pouring every ounce of desperation into it, every drop of feeling.

Ending it as suddenly as he started it, he rested their foreheads together. “Good. I was... worried for a moment.” Seeing her confusion that verged on offended, he hastened to add, “I am... my experiences, querida, remember I am... mostly unfamiliar with this. Better to expect pain than happiness, for both are fleeting in the Maker's eyes, and only one makes you strong enough to withstand the worst life throws at you. Or, so I was taught; so I believed, for many years.”

“And now,” she said, the tension building, “Now, what do you believe?”

Stumbling over his words, Zevran let it all out in a rush. “I believe that I am lucky, that I am blessed, that love – your love, is good and makes me strong, that we may not always be happy every moment, but those times make us tough enough to take the bad ones, and that I am an idiot for having doubts even for one second. You are a woman of your word, querida, and say that you are mine, as I am yours.” Disengaging from Dailah's embrace, shushing her with a motion, Zevran went to his pack, digging in it until he found what he was looking for. Turning with the small gift clenched in his fist, Zevran scrambled artlessly back to Dailah, pulling her to sit up facing him. “Amora, I... I have the earring still, if you would have it.”

“The one you tried to pay me with?” Dailah looked torn between confusion, hurt and some emotion Zevran could put no name to. “The one from the Rivaini merchant?”

“It has been the one thing I've kept through the years,” he said, hoping she would understand what he was saying this time about the piece of jewelry, and also praying that he wouldn't muck it up this time, not the way he had the last. “My only other personal possession was my mother's gloves.”

Dailah took the hand that held the earring between hers. “You had to keep this hidden, didn't you? Just like the gloves.”

He nodded, simply saying, “Yes.”

“They gave you all sorts of things, weapons, lodging -”

“Whores, armor, extravagant clothes and jewels even, yes. Some small coin to spend, but mostly only things we could use in barter. We were slaves, my dear. Caged in pretty places, taught to hold no thoughts in our heads beyond the moment and the next mission. No ambition but to succeed in our duties, to gain coin and glory to the Guild.”

Dailah stared down at his hand, scarred as the rest of him, and at the small earring that was nestled in his palm. “Nothing sentimental. Nothing that was yours.” She didn't quite dare to touch it. “And you want to give it to me? Zevran, I.. I can't take something that's meant so much -”

“I wish you to have it, as... as a token of my affections.” With a little flip and flick of fingers he was holding it out to her. “Please, take it, it is important to me, yes, but not as much as you are. Nothing is, and anything else that bears the same or similar value to it came from your hands and would make little sense to give to you.”

Dailah scooted so her back was to him, and leaned against his chest, tilting her head to the side. “Then I accept.”

With steady fingers, Zevran grasped her ear, examining it for a place with no vessels. Finding a good spot halfway up the shell of her ear, Zevran swiftly pressed the sharpened end of the earring into the cartilage. Dailah's hands clenched over his knees but other than that gave no sign of discomfort. Licking away the trickle of blood Zevran held his Dalish close, finally having everything he needed and wanted right there, along with a vow to put no other before him.

“It is done amora,” he murmured, nuzzling at her temple.

Dailah sighed, turning her head enough to return the gesture. “Someday you're really going to have to teach me Antivan.”

“But not today,” he said, agreeing. “Today I'm going to thoroughly explore you, and you shall return the favor.”