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Alistair laid in his bedroll, hands folded underneath his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Zevran complete his nightly ritual before bed. Getting naked was always the first step, much to Alistair's chagrin the night Mahariel had assigned them tent-mates.
Now, Zevran was detangling his hair from his braids, a small wooden comb held deftly between his nimble fingers. It had grown long during their travels, golden tresses down past his shoulders now.
Maker, when had he started noticing things like that? Or thinking about how soft it looked?
Zevran put his comb down on top of his pack and tucked his hair behind his pointed ear, then looked at Alistair over his shoulder. The lamp light caught in his golden eyes, turning them the color of warm honey and Alistair felt his ears begin to go hot.
Zevran was certainly pretty.
He closed his eyes, unsure of when those thoughts started either.
"Are you feeling alright?" Zevran asked, his tone playful. "Your ears are red as embrium flowers."
Alistair groaned internally. Of course Zevran would see that. He saw everything. "Just asking myself questions."
"Like if women think I am handsome?" Zevran teased, turning towards him.
Still naked, still unabashed.
Alistair still couldn't believe that people so brash existed at all. Yet there he was. In all his glory. Maybe there was something to being attracted to confidence, after all.
Not that he was attracted, of course.
"So you heard me talking to Leliana, then?" Alistair asked, face flushing. He was already embarrassed, what was a little more?
"I hear many things throughout the day, my dear Warden," Zevran said lightly, lying on his side, parallel to Alistair, resting his jaw in his hand. It took everything he had not to stare down at Zevran's cock. "Do you truly find it so odd that many people find me tantalizing? Or were you trying to reassure yourself that your feelings were normal?"
"I don't know what you—I mean—You—" Alistair spluttered, feeling the heat travel down his neck. Maker. Zevran laughed, full-throated and intoxicating. Alistair found his lips wanting to curl upward despite the laughter being at his expense.
"You are too cute when you blush," Zevran said, his eyes sparkling. "And also self-incriminating."
"I've just… not met many men like you," Alistair finally managed, still dutifully looking only at Zevran's eyes.
"You mean men that have sex with other men?" Zevran asked, his voice going low and sultry. Alistair felt a thrill shoot through him as he maintained eye contact. "You also mentioned, quite recently, that you would be very happy to hop borders. Do you remember?"
"Yes?" Alistair said, thinking back to the conversation. "Oh," he groaned, finally looking away from the other man. "You weren't talking about countries were you?"
"I was not," Zevran replied, laughing lightly. He reached forward, his fingers walking across the space between them. "But what I mean is a border of sorts."
Alistair looked down at his hand, wondering how even that could be beautiful. He rolled onto his side, as well, making Zevran raise a single eyebrow. It made another thrill shoot through him.
"Surely you're curious." Zevran continued, fingers taking another step, stopping just short of where their bedrolls met. "If others find me so pleasing, would you?" Alistair's face burned so hot he was sure the tent would catch flame. "Do I live up to my boasting? Could I help you hop a border?"
Alistair's brain went, mercifully, blank for a few heartbeats as he thought about what that would actually be like.
"There is a way to dip your toe, as it were," Zevran continued, purring now. He leaned toward Alistair, head going no farther than his fingers had, staying on his bedroll. "A way to test the waters, to see if hopping the border is, indeed, for you."
Still furiously flushing, Alistair found himself drawn forward, the questions swimming around in his head. "How so?"
Zevran smiled, making Alistair's stomach flip. "Kiss me and sate your curiosity," he said, voice low. "No one has to know but us."
Alistair swallowed, wondering why there was so little fight in him. Maybe he was curious. But surely… "You're having me on…"
"Not this time," Zevran promised with a cheeky nod. "I do, however, find helping others open their minds rather fun."
Alistair's jaw worked as he stared down at Zevran's lips. They were an inviting brown, like the Antivan brandy Zevran had bought a bottle of at the last tavern. Would he taste the brandy now, if he closed the short gap between them and kissed him? He had expected Zevran to be pushier about matters such as these. But the elf stayed where he was, his expression not even expecting, just a playful smile and a sparkle in his eyes.
Everything going forward would be Alistair's decision, it seemed.
And for some reason, it made things easier. Maybe he didn't have to have an opinion on the way the party handled dwarven politics or centuries old elves. Maybe he could just be in charge of whether or not he kissed Zevran right here.
So, he leaned in and crossed the border between their bedrolls.
Zevran made a surprised, but pleased noise as their lips connected. Alistair's heart hammered in his ears, his whole body engulfing in a blushing heat even as he went stiff as a board. And, to his surprise, a hardening in his pants. But, the sensation of Zevran's lips on his was… nice.
Sweet Maker, this wasn't the plan at all.
Alistair pulled back, suddenly self conscious, clearing his throat. But Zevran's hand snuck forward, taking his wrist and keeping him from fully fleeing. Their eyes met and Alistair's breath caught tight in his throat. Zevran's eyes shone, with glee, with triumph. With much too much excitement, as far as Alistair saw it.
But at the same time, his lips tingled, begging for another taste. A kind of want that echoed deep inside of him, calling out to where Zevran's hand held him. The elf glanced down at their hands then brought them up, placing Alistair's hand gently on his cheek. "You see? It can be easy. Though should we try again, let yourself relax, my dear."
Alistair's heart clenched at the easy way the pet name fell from Zevran's lips. He was much more used to the stinging names Morrigan or Shale threw at him. Even though the others weren't hostile, there was always a bite to their comments. That Zevran would show him such softness made him so confused his head hurt. He didn't know what any of this was going to mean in the morning, but he knew that he wanted.
What was one more kiss?
He leaned back in, still cupping Zevran's cheek. Their lips brushed together again, softly this time. Alistair shivered, his pants growing even tighter. So he pulled Zevran closer, earning him another pleased noise. Zevran tilted his head, gently parting their mouths. Alistair's tongue poked forward. Now, he could taste the brandy, just as he thought. It tasted much sweeter on Zevran's lips.
When he needed air, Alistair pulled back and this time Zevran let him go. The elf gave him a long look, wiping at his lip with a thumb. It did not help his pants getting tighter much.
"I could help you with your growing problem there," Zevran offered, a sly smile on his face. "If you are still feeling adventurous."
Alistair's eyes unfocused and his mind went white for a moment, thinking about Zevran's hands on him. "Nope! That's enough adventure for me for one night! Thank you!" He said, voice a little louder than he meant. He pulled his furs up over himself, hiding even his face as Zevran chuckled, not unevilly.
Andraste's bloody ashes, what had he gotten himself into?