The Art of Storytelling

[[ A/N: So I've recently become totally obsessed with Dragon Age *w* All of those characters are just so... Nnnh, I love them all.

So obviously, me being me, I had to throw two of my favorite guys together. This is also my first time trying to write from a first-person POV. It was fun trying to get into Alistair's head; and hopefully I managed to stay true to his character. As always, let me know what you think~<3 ]]

________________________________________________________________

The Art of Storytelling



“So what's your story? I haven't heard much out of you, yet.” I looked at the elf across from me expectantly. The light from the campfire between us cast wicked shadows on the man's face, making the assassin look that much more menacing. Though, Zevran did always have some kind of devious look about him, regardless of how he was shaded.



Anyway, perhaps I should tell you how we got here. You see, everybody else was asleep, and I didn't yet trust Zevran enough to leave him awake and alone. There, that should suffice for a backstory~



So there I was, keeping an eye on our newest recruit. My plan was to get him to talk until he was exhausted. I mean, it was too quiet with just the two of us there. I couldn't stand it. Plus he's sneaky, and sneaks thrive in silence. So I had to keep him talking. ...That makes sense, right?



He spoke back in that Antivan accent of his. Don't tell him, but I really like his accent. “Er, my story is a long and bloody one. Besides, I am here now, and that is all that matters, no?” Yes, of course he would evade the question. What was more unnerving was the grin that I saw flickering in the fire-light. “What about yours, my dear Warden? I'm all ears.”



Perhaps my imagination was just too active, but I couldn't help but giggle to myself at how funny the elf would look with his body literally covered in ears. Nobody would take him seriously as a mercenary!



But I digress...



So I responded, matching his evasiveness. “My story? At the moment it includes chancing death by traveling with an assassin. Always glancing over my shoulder at him while fighting darkspawn, undead, and the like. ...Oh, and there's a puppy dog involved.” It was obviously facetious, but isn't making up stories an excellent way to make people smile in a world full of Blight, famine, and death? I always thought so...



And if you can make an assassin laugh, he won't kill you. That's an unwritten rule, right? I'm sure it is.



So I smirked at Zevran, knowing that my answer was oh-so-clever. But he seemed unfazed, still wearing that blasted grin on his face.



“Oh, so you've been stealing admiring looks at me over your shoulder?” he says; and before I can even object to that, he follows up with, “Truthfully, though, I'm curious. What sort of roots does a Grey Warden come from?”



That's when I knew I was dealing with a professional. This elf had one skilled tongue, an-- ....Wait, I... Fffhhnnn n-not like that! That sounds wrong, wording it like that. Ugh. Nnn, unintentionalforshadowingstopthatAlistair. Ngh, by the Maker... He... He is good with words! ...Is... what I was trying to say...



Anyway, moving on. Instead of letting me evade the question, he persisted. Now, why hadn't I thought of doing that first? And what exactly was this man planning to do? Telling my life story to an assassin certainly seemed shady. If he found out I was related to royalty... Maker, I don't want to think about it. ...Then I realized that he had already tried to kill me once, so it wasn't like I didn't already distrust him. I figured I could tell him a little bit; it couldn't make the situation much worse.



I sighed, probably sounding defeated and miserable. To be honest, I really hated talking about my past. As you can imagine, being a bastard son isn't the most enjoyable thing to talk about. But this would save me from having to explain it later. Might as well deal with the badness now. “I was... given up to the Chantry as a boy. My parents, or, rather, my guardian thought it best to send me away. Long story, that one. So I spent a lot of time being trained as a templar and doing other... Chantry-ish things.” I was boring him-- I was sure of it. I was boring myself, actually. I never realized just how dull my life was before becoming a Grey Warden. I had to spice up my story. So I put on my excited face. You know the one. I had it when we ate at that tavern in Denerim the other day, when they brought out the dessert tray.



So I did my checklist: excited face, upbeat voice, hand gestures, good, good. And then I began~



“So I was out walking one day, doing... you know, templar things, and I found these little girls being attacked by apostates. Blood mages, at that! There must have been five dozen of them! ...Er, five dozen mages, not little girls. Of course, any normal man would have ran; probably even soiled himself.” I paused slightly, taking note of the elf's soft smile. He was apparently loving the story, and my little exaggerated hand gestures; Maker, I must have looked so silly. Either way, he was enjoying it and that was wonderful. So I built up to the big finale! “But not me! By the time I finished with them, they were begging for their life. Those merciless few got what they deserved, and the little girls got away save and sound!” Then I gave him my victorious laugh. A little, 'mwahahaha!' Oh, wait, that was my evil laugh... Nonetheless...



Zevran was impressed, of course. Though he hid it well behind a skeptical stare. At least he was still smiling. “Lovely story, Alistair. Heh, it certainly makes me feel better about myself.”



I raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out what this elf was going on about. ...So I asked, “...What are you going on about?”



Zevran did one of those hand waves. Maker, I'm unsure how to describe-- ...It was one of these...? It was like a warning, saying, 'Ohhh, the next words that leave my mouth will be all about how amazing I am!'



So he did that, and then he replied, “You could take out that many blood mages, but you couldn't finish me off? I must be pretty damn good, if I say so myself.”



Blast him! He knew I had my reasons for sparing his life! I opened my mouth, but was interrupted by a rumble of thunder.



“Ah, looks as if a storm is approaching. I must say, I am enjoying this conversation, Alistair. Shall we move it inside?”



Now, I've been called 'sassy' before, but never thought it to be true... until that moment. I forgot my entire reason for being out there in the first place. The only reason I followed Zevran was because I couldn't let him get the last word. That was my job! 'Ending a conversation with a teasing, cheeky comment? Oh, that's so Alistair!' And now this elf wanted to take my title! I wouldn't allow it!



So I followed the smaller man into his tent, and immediately began to remove my armor. I couldn't help but feel flustered. It was one thing to verbally spar with somebody like Morrigan. Her words came with venom. It made it so much easier to fight back-- and I always enjoyed seeing her scowl at me. But Zevran... ohh, Zevran... Ngh, he enjoyed seeing me squirm. His words came with a charming tone and that sly expression of his. How, in all of Ferelden, was I supposed to counter that? I might go as far to say that he gave me butterflies~ The little yellow ones, not the blue ones.



Oh, you're giving me that look. That, 'forget about the butterflies, and don't gloss over the fact that you're stripping down in front of Zevran,' look. Well, you know how small our tents are. All of that armor in such a confined space-- it makes me claustrophobic sometimes. So, out of force of habit, mind you, I took my clothes off.



I got down to only my footwear and underclothes before I realized what the blazes I was doing. I looked up, midway through removing my boots. Of course Zevran had been watching. He had that blasted smirk that adorned his face so often. If I didn't know better, I'd think it was as permanent as that tattoo on his cheek.



“Oh, please don't stop on my account.”



Bah, he did it again! I quickly straightened up, composing myself as best as one can in their undies. I opened my mouth to explain my actions, but before I could even utter a word, Zevran's leather armor clattered to the ground. I'm sure I stuttered a bit as I put my hands up in protest. “Y-You don't need to do that,” I stated.



The elf continued to work at his fastenings. “Oh, come now, Warden. Sex is no fun with only one of us in the buff.”



Ugh, it figures he would put it that way, 'in the buff,' just as he revealed the top half of his body to me. As an elf, of course he was rather slender, though he had muscles that were toned and sleek. Fitting for his profession, I'm sure.



Nonetheless, I was picking a bad time to get sidetracked. I continued waving my hands, trying to get him to stop. “I didn't come here for sex, you.... pervy elf!” How embarrassing. 'Pervy elf?' That's the best I could come up with? Ugh, you see what his man does to me? However, it did get him to stop undressing, and just in time since all he had left on were these tight, thin... Maker, I don't even know what to call it. I don't think they make them in Ferelden. It was like he had taken a small coin pouch and strung it around his... er... jewels. And note that I said the pouch was small. Its contents, on the other hand, were... nearly bursting out the seams, so to say.



“This is a surprise...” Zevran muttered. “I don't think anybody has ever stepped into my sleeping quarters and not wanted sex. ...And yet...” Oh Maker, he stepped closer. “You seem to be fixated on my goods, Alistair.”



Ohh, the way he said my name in that accent. It sounded so... neat.



Oh, got distracted again, sorry.



So, obviously I guiltily looked away from the elf's lower region, turning my attention back upwards. That was really when I first noticed that Zevran was... well, he was beautiful. And it's not that he was 'turning' me, as some would put it. I've never seen a problem with admiring the bodies of other men. It's just that... y'know... Duncan, Sten, the other Grey Wardens and templars... they're not what I would call beautiful. Zevran was different. He was strong, slender, had great hair-- all qualities that I look for in a woman. The fact that he was male made things... confusing, but he seemed to be fine with it.



“There's no need to feel shy,” he whispered huskily. “You're not the first man I've been with, and you won't be my last.”



I scoffed at that remark. “Oh, that makes me feel sooo special.” ...Really? That was my instinctive response? A jealous remark? Wasn't I supposed to be discouraging his advances?



Another rumble of thunder boomed from the sky. I'll admit, I flinched, but Zevran looked as calm as ever. I was sure he had me right where he wanted me. He probably even had a mage working for him, conjuring up this storm. I wouldn't put it past the little sneak. ...I really shouldn't have been this content with the situation.



This man was dangerous. He's probably killed everybody he's slept with; not to forget that he already tried to take our group out. Plus, he was a man, and that was... icky.



And to this day, I still cannot figure out why all of that made me even more interested in him. It made no sense. Alistair, the bad boy, the rebel. Yeugh, it sounds weird. And as much danger as I might have been in, either from Zevran, or from going against everything I had been taught, I still felt... safe. He just wanted to have fun, right? That's what we were doing before-- being sarcastic and having fun. Sure, I didn't expect it to escalate the way it did, but... well, why stop now? Zevran and Alistair, just having fun, fun, fun times!



“I'll make it special for you, mi amor~” There he goes, interrupting my thoughts again. But it was fine since he called me a... er... I'm not entirely sure what he called me, but I liked hearing it.



I sighed... I think. At least it sounds like something I'd do. Either way, I was getting tired of battling myself over whether to listen to my morals, or listen to my... marbles. ...Don't look at me like that, plenty of people call them marbles! ...When they don't want to say the other word. But as I was saying, I was tired of feeling conflicted, so I figured I'd let Zevran decide. Easy way out, right?



And you never know, he might have decided not to go through with it.



...Alright, fine, I knew I was getting laid. I just didn't want to admit to myself that I kind of wanted it.



“I guess I have no choice, do I?” I muttered, feigning defeat.



The elf smiled-- or had he ever stopped smiling-- and said, “We're both undressed. No time like the present, as I always say.” There was a slight change in his features. I think it might have actually been... could it have been guilt? “Though if you are not up to it, I understand.”



Ah! So he felt bad for taking advantage of poor ol' Alistair. Finally, an opening for me to turn all of this around and get revenge for him making me all... blushy. “Well...” I said, trying to sound like I was doing him a favor, “You could make it easier for me...”



The other male simply shrugged and replied, “What would make things easier for you, my warden?”



I wondered, for a moment, if I was making it apparent that I was a virgin. I'm sure Zevran had a sixth sense about these things, but I had expected to be teased more about it. Could there be a chance that I was such a good actor, that the elf couldn't tell that I was an innocent? ....Okay, you don't have to laugh. I know, I know, I'm positive that wasn't the case. Zevran probably knew, he just didn't care either way, and didn't bother pestering me about it.



Or, rather, maybe he knew and did care. Cared enough to want to make me feel safe and comfortable. What do you think? Some food for thought, hm~?



“Could you...” I took a moment, a long moment. Here I had a handsome, dangerous man-- a former member of The Crows-- willing to do one favor for me. I couldn't let this go to waste! So, being the tactical, strategical master that I am, I managed to come up with something that I knew would satisfy me. “Hmmm... Could you say something in that language of yours?” So I'm a sucker for accents. It's not like I had the heart to go ask him to assassinate Morrigan for me, or anything like that.



Zevran stepped a bit closer. He had a rather... sultry look in his eyes, and his voice seemed to deepen a tone. I... I'm not sure what he said. I certainly can't repeat it for the life of me, but I could tell that this man was trying to seduce me. And, Maker, was it working...



I matched his coy smirk with a goofy, amused one of my own. I mean, you try to not smile like an idiot after a sexy elf flirts with you like that. I managed to hold in a young, schoolgirl-ish giggle and asked him what he had said. I should have known that this rogue would evade the question, and ask me one in return.



“Uh... Do you have a sister, Alistair?”



Well that wasn't what I had expected. I paused for a moment, unsure of how I should approach my response. Needless to say, this made me much more curious about what he had said-- slightly less turned on, but yes, much more curious. “Er... yes...?” I muttered out. I hesitated before opening my mouth to explain that I had never really met her, but I was cut off by Zevran chuckling softly.



“Heh,” the elf started, rubbing his head in a way that made it seem like he was nervous... which only made me even more nervous. “I... am not sure why... but for some odd reason, the first phrase that popped into my head was, 'Your sister is a beautiful bitch.'”



Okay, I'll admit, Zevran sounds much sexier when he doesn't translate what he says. “We're standing here... mostly naked... and that is the first thing to come to mind?” I asked him, trying to figure out just what was going on in that head of his.



He gave an innocent shrug. “Believe it or not, it's a phrase I use quite often.” With a sigh, he followed up with, “My apologies,” he said, giving a slight bow. “It was a slip of the tongue.”



A slip of the tongue he says. I would have expected an assassin to be much too calculating and deft to make such a mistake.



“....Your sister's tongue, that is~” he followed up with a grin.



Ohhh, that was more like the Zevran I expected. Had I actually known my sister, I might have been more infuriated by the claim. But there was no way that he had truly done such a thing... I was almost positive of it. “Riiiight. So I am to believe that you kissed my sister...” I said dryly, trying to show him that I refused to play along with such a silly notion. But of course he wouldn't settle for ending it there.



“Well there is one way to find out...” There was that sultry tone in his voice again, wafting out of him as he took another step closer, nearly standing chest-to-chest with me as he glanced up with those piercing eyes of his. “She claimed that good kissing runs in the family; so a kiss from her brother would be enough for me to determine whether or not you're kin.”



I looked at him for a moment, my eyebrow cocked in skepticism. Call me gullible, but I was almost beginning to believe him. ...Almost, but I quickly caught myself. “...Oh... Ha, I'm not falling for that one...” The nerve of this elf, trying to use a flat out lie to seduce me. I had to remember that I was the Grey Warden, and that he was the one who was supposed to be following my leadership.... and stuff.



If this man wanted a piece of Alistair, he wasn't going to sneak his way to my lips all snake-like and... sneaky. Oh, no, we were going to do this my way! I was going to turn the tables on the other man, and turn him into the stuttering, flustered pile of flushed skin! It would be payback in the form of a heaping dose of manly Alistair, all over his face! I was going to blow. His. Mind.



With a little deftness of my own, I slid my hand behind his head, fingers becoming tangled in that silky blonde hair of his-- and yes, it is quite silky! I pulled him closer, probably with a little more force than I needed to, but this was supposed to be a 'heaping' dose, after all. I didn't allow myself time to think, for fear that I may have talked myself out of it; and I wasted no time in leaning down and pressing my lips firmly against his. I heard him make some sort of surprised noise, like a grunt or something, and it made me grin a nice, proud little grin.



I held there for a moment, enjoying my victory. But, y'know... it's amazing how when you tell yourself not to think about things, you seem to think about them twice as hard. As our lips met, it suddenly hit me... I was kissing a man. Somewhat disgusted with myself, I pulled away-- though I tried to keep that grin evident on my lips; because why let morals and values come in the way of stubborn pride? Right?



I was slightly shocked and dismayed to find the same smirk mirrored on the other man's face. It was much too devious-looking to be a flustered smirk... if those even exist.



“Wow...” he started. That was a good sign. “In my fantasies about you, I was always the aggressive one...”



Ah, good, he sounded shocked! Time for him to start stuttering and--



--And that was when it hit me that his expression looked just as it usually did. I queried about it, sounding quite shocked myself. “W-Why... Why aren't you blushing!?”



Zevran blinked at me for a moment, just a moment, and then I became positive that I had failed to blow his mind once he quickly countered with another one of his blasted remarks.



That smirk widened, and he replied in a low voice, “Ah, because the blood decided to rush elsewhere, my Warden...”



Yeaaaah, I looked. Come on, please don't make any comments about it; you know I had to look. I-It's a natural reaction! You would have done the same; and trust me, it was an eyeful~



Whatever that garment he had covering his... lower region... was loosened with skilled fingers, and I watched as it dropped down lithe, tanned legs and was kicked aside. And, like an attentive puppy, my eyes focused right back on his... mmmm. Er, and I hope you realize how weird it feels for me to be 'mmm'ing about another man's... erm... battleaxe. It was certainly larger than I expected it to be; granted, I had only been thinking about it for fifteen minutes or so. But for a man his size.... Maker, for any man, it was impressive. It had to be about six or seven inches, and it was only half-hard to boot! It hung out in front of him with a slight limp, but was quickly throbbing to full hardness, gaining another inch or so in length. And don't even get me started on the girth of it. It had a thickness to it that... well, to be honest... put me to shame. I don't make it a habit to admire the weaponry of other men, but if there was one specimen in all of Ferelden that I... I... I'm not even going to finish that. Sounds too weird. I'm sure you get what I mean.



As I stared at it, part of my mind started to bring me back to reality. That thing was.... well it was there. And what was I doing in this tent? Ohhh, that's right. I was here for that thing to presumably be used... on me... and that... was a scary thought.



“You know...” the elf said, breaking the silence that I didn't even realize was there, “I've had a feeling that we would end up in this position.”



“Maker, it's huge...” I caught myself muttering under my breath, obviously fixated on the other man's genitalia. I'm sure I looked like a mouse caught in a feline's gaze, just staring wide-eyed at Zevran's nether regions. Distracted, I asked him, “How long have you known?”



I heard a soft chuckle from the man before he responded. “Known that I had had a big dick? Or known that you would fall for me?”



Even the dirtiest of words sounded soothing when said in that accent... though I wished, for once, that he would give me a straight answer. “Nn. You could've warned me on both accounts...” I muttered, finally managing to tear my eyes away and meet the elf's gaze. Or, rather, I met the gaze of the area just over his right shoulder; there was no way I could look him straight in the eye.



And even though I wasn't looking right at him, I could tell-- no-- I could feel him smirking at me, his eyes locked right on me like the predator he was. “Well now that you've seen mine, don't you think it's only fair that you... unsheathe your sword, Warden?” He snickered before continuing, which I knew wasn't a good sign. “I already know I'm bigger; you have nothing to be ashamed of.” Now that was a low blow. And he rubbed salt in the wound by sliding his hands down his slender body and gripping his thick base, giving himself a few squeezes.



Yes, I did glance back down and see that. Only briefly, though!



Either way, I wasn't going to take that insult lightly. “You're not bigger! ....Or at least you weren't before...” Change of plans. Every serious counter-argument I've made before had been twisted and used against me. So why not have fun with this one? “You see, I used to have a large one myself. As big as one of them steel maces you were admiring the other day. But I had a nasty fight with a Darkspawn. Struck me below the belt, he did. Nearly cut all of my little nobleman off, and left me with a measly little grubworm.” Genius. Pure genius. My stories surprise myself, sometimes.



At least it was able to make him laugh. It always made me feel more comfortable when the people around me were enjoying themselves. And boy did I need all the comfort I could get at the moment. The booming sound of thunder rocked through the campsite, followed by the growing pitter-patter sound of rain on the tent. Then Zevran spoke, contrasting the vicious sound with his soft voice. “I love your stories, Alistair. But I wonder... how many of them are true?”



I couldn't help but grin, even feeling comfortable enough to meet the elf's eyes. “As many as you'll believe~” I responded slyly. I felt very proud of that answer; and he seemed to enjoy it as well, letting out a soft laugh.



“Cute...” At least I'm pretty sure that's what I heard the elf mutter. How nice. Y'hear that? I'm cute~ “Very well, you don't have to show me, Alistair. I'm much more interested in your backside, anyway.”



Of course, I had no witty comeback to that. Not unless stammering and waving my hands while my cheeks started to burn counted as being witty. How in the world does one respond when some lecherous elf tells you they want to play with your bum-bum?



“Personally, I've never found pleasure in attacking another man below the belt. At least... not in that sense,” the elf continued. “Much too cruel, even for me.” That was rather surprising to hear. And here I thought that Zevran had no standards. The assassin followed up by saying, “I much prefer sliding a dagger right into their gut. There's a thrill that comes with piercing soft tissue like that.”



Ugh. My story seemed to set him off on a tangent about killing. Wonderful. That's just the mood I wanted him in. ...And take note: that statement was dripping in sarcasm. Things were starting to feel uneasy, at least for me. “Could we... y'know, not talk about death?” I could only hope that the rogue didn't enjoy mixing business and pleasure. Being gutted like a fish was not on my to-do list for the night...



“Why not? I wouldn't expect a Grey Warden to be squeamish on the subject...” Maybe he did have a bit of a point. I really should be used to blood and gore by now; but I should also be entitled to having some time to get away from all of that... right?



Perhaps violence was always on the elf's mind-- as scary a thought as that is. Hopefully Zevran would understand that this was Alistair-relax-and-be-happy-time. Not Alistair-death-blood-GORE-GORE-GORE-time. “I'd just rather not think of death and pain and... you getting dagger-happy and 'piercing soft tissue' when... heh, I guess when you're planning on doing the same thing to my backside...” Nnn, I wish my mind hadn't made that connection. The brief thought of being penetrated by a dagger crossed my mind and made me cringe.



“Shame...” the elf muttered, actually looking a bit disappointed for a moment, before he shrugged it off. “Very well, if violence is a turn-off, then we can go back to talking about my cock.” And suddenly that wolfish grin was back.



“Oh, that's much better...” I said with a roll of my eyes. To be honest, it really was a much more comfortable subject; but it had brought back the reality that I was about to share a bed with another man. Zevran. ...And apparently my mind had already accepted this as a given. As long as the elf didn't know that I was fine with this, then... Oh who am I kidding? I'm sure he knew. He knew it from the moment we met... or at least that's what he hinted.



Maker, it was so... thick and throbbing... Oh, did my eyes trail back down to his privates again? Bad, bad eyes! A bright flash of lightning illuminated the walls of the tent briefly, and brought my attention back to a more proper place. Except... Zevran was a little closer than he had been before, and his skilled hands were running over my hips. It was a light touch, but such tenderness was foreign to me, and may have caused a soft sound to leave my lips.



“How about we talk about your cock, then, my dear friend~?” I didn't resist. The rogue seemed to be getting impatient with my avoidance of his advances. Those hands pried at the waist of my underclothes, tugging them down. I shut my eyes and could hear an involuntary, embarrassed hiss slide off of my tongue as I was revealed to the assassin.



I heard him chuckle. ...I didn't like that reaction. I managed to ease one of my eyes open, looking at him questioningly. “W-What?”



Teasing orbs glanced up at mine, joined with a wink. “That's the biggest grubworm I've ever seen. You must have been huge before they cut it off~”



Oh, so it was a good chuckle! I laughed softly myself, feeling very relieved now that I had his approval. It was my first time showing off, after all. I would have hated to disappoint. “H-Heh.” I opened my other eye, smiling at the elf, feeling much more relaxed after seeing the rogue's own smile. I couldn't help but chuckle again before responding slyly, “It was a monster, before~”



I never really thought of myself as well-endowed; especially not compared to the man currently running his hands up and down my waist. But if somebody as experienced as Zevran was satisfied with it... then I'd take it as an ego boost. Good news: apparently I now have two big heads!



Now, I was anticipating more questions about exactly how big of a monster it was. Really, I had a whole silly story planned out about how I used to use it in place of a sword during battle, and rest my head on it at night. It... it really sounds like a gross, dirty, dirty story, now that I think about it, but at the time I thought it was genius!



As fate would have it, I never got a chance to share my little story. True to how the rest of the blasted night had been, Zevran strayed from the expected path. I tried to meet his eyes, but he was much too close for me to do so. Warm, smooth skin pressed flush against mine, and those skilled arms wrapped around me in a loose, gentle hug. Gentle! How in the world can an assassin be so gentle? And how could the warmth from his embrace make me shiver like it did? Elves are just one of those mysteries of life, I suppose.



But, Maker, the feeling of Zevran holding himself against me, his chin coming to rest on my shoulder... I don't know if words could do it justice. It seems like such a simple gesture, but as somebody who... erm... lacked intimacy in his life, it felt like so much more to me. I honestly could have stayed like that all night. Ohhh, and then he spoke-- right next to my ear, too!



“You're so beautiful, Alistair~” I could feel myself blushing. I'm glad he was not able to see how red my face was, that would have been embarrassing. Me? Beautiful? Let's ignore the fact that another man said it to me, but 'beautiful?' That's not a very manly word at all! 'Dashingly handsome' might cut it, but... well maybe that described the Antivan more than it described me.



So now I was back to trying to think of a witty reply. At least Zevran was good at keeping me on my toes, I suppose. “The thought of exploring your body all night just makes me so... hard.” That whisper at the end. The way he emphasized that last word. Maker, I almost went weak in the knees. I began to question why I was wasting time trying to verbally combat the other man, when I could focus on listening and actually enjoying the moment. That's obviously what Zevran wanted me to do.



“I bet my past lovers will pale in comparison to how amazing spending one night with you will be...” Oh, was he turning on the charm or what? I wondered if he really meant it though. I mean, he really didn't have to lie to me; I was already naked and willing, after all.



After a couple of hot-breathed pants against one of those pointed ears, I managed to find my voice. “H-How much of that is true?” I asked, my voice sounding a lot more nervous and shaky than I meant for it to.



Zevran pulled back, those sharp eyes meeting mine, before he responded with a growing smirk. “As much as you'll believe.”



It took me a moment to realize that he was using my own lines against me. Ohhh, that was underhanded of him; but with a rogue, I really shouldn't expect any less. “Oh I see what you did there. Clever,” I responded dryly, punctuating it with a casual roll of my eyes. I was confused, though. Were we in the flirting stage, or still back in the battle of wits? How were these sort of things supposed to progress, anyway?



“If you don't like what you see, my love, I can fix that.” Oh dear. More confusion. There were soooo many ways to interpret that; and with Zevran, about thirty-four of those ways were plausible. To add to the mystery, the man slid away to grab something from a dark corner of the tent, and then tactfully moved behind me. One of his hands came to rest on my hip as he pressed his chest close to my back. Not knowing what his other hand was doing, or what it held, started to make me incredibly nervous.



I shot him a nervous look over my shoulder, wincing slightly. “Er, I really hope this isn't the part where you stab my eyes out with little daggers.” It was a sarcastic response... sort of. I meant it as a joke, but the elf's response left way too much to the imagination.



“Oh, it seems we've brought the topic back to violence, now~” Oh goodie. Just the vague answer I wanted to hear.



Suddenly I was again wondering if it was a good idea to trust a man who had already tried to kill me once. My mouth parted in preparation to ask him what in the world he was doing, but I was cut short as something quickly covered my eyes, blocking my vision entirely. I'll admit, I jumped at first. Might have seen my life flash before my eyes. Maybe wet myself a bit. “Ah! ...Oh.... it's just a blindfold...” Boy did I feel silly.



I could feel the soft vibrations of Zevran's snickering rumble through his chest before he pulled away from me once again. “Forgive me, Alistair. I tend to enjoy using props in the bedroom.”



I snorted to myself. At least one of us was enjoying it. As for me, I was now standing in the nude, unable to see a thing, and no longer feeling the elf behind me-- which meant that I had no clue where he was or what he was up to. For a moment, I couldn't even hear the stealthy rogue; the soft rainfall was the only thing keeping the air from being completely silent. I felt awkward.



That was when I felt a hand pressing against my back, gently, leading me down. It took me a brief second to realize that he wanted me down onto my knees. Taking such a defeated pose brought that warm blush back to my cheeks. It was a dull heat that only intensified when that hand urged me down further onto all fours. I could hear Zevran make some sort of sound of approval. One of those 'oh yeah, get a load of that... er... pair of buns.'



Oh Maker, this really was happening, wasn't it?



I could feel my stomach twisting into knots as I became anxious. I had been second guessing this encounter all night, and it seemed that this would be my last chance to back out of it... if I wanted to. I still really hadn't figured that part out at the moment.



Instinctively, I shifted around, trying to get comfortable on the soft surface that I was pushed onto-- I assumed it was his bedroll. It wasn't so much of a physical comfort that I was trying to reach; it was more of a reflexive action to try to settle my nerves.



My anxiety rose further as that soft hand began moving its way downward, caressing one of my cheeks. I moved again, not so much to get away from the touch. I mean... it felt alright, I just... oh blast it, if you haven't gotten the point that I was nervous by now...



But it seemed that Zevran's impatience was peeking out of his suave exterior once again. “Nnn,” I heard him hiss, both hands now moving to grip around my waist. “If you don't stop being antsy, I might have to find some rope...”



“So I can go and hang myself? Oh, that would be great!” Hah. I couldn't help it. It was the first response to pop into my head, and I thought it was brilliant. Surely I was sending the elf mixed signals.



And surely he would only listen to the signals that he wanted to hear. “It's hard to take your sarcasm seriously when you're letting me have my way with you, Warden~” He accentuated his point with a squeeze of his hand, and I could somehow feel that groping of my rear tingle all the way to my groin. Oh yes, I don't know how it managed to happen, but something was arising on the Southern front.



Even with his touch getting to me, I had to protest. “You are not having your way with me. This is... just innocent massaging...!” Oh, even I didn't believe myself.



Zevran wasn't having any of it, either. “My dear, you're blindfolded, and we're both naked. This story of yours will only have one ending, and we both know what that will be.” Ugh, did he have to be so blunt about it? I let out a defeated sigh. We both knew he was right. If I didn't want this, I would have stopped him by now. Why did he have to be so irresistible? He was a Desire Demon in a past life. I'm sure of it!



“And unlike your other stories, this tale will actually be true.”



Did he really have to bash my storytelling? That was a low blow, that was. I glared over my shoulder at him. Er... I glared at the blindfold, but I assume that Zevran was on the other side of the darkness I saw. “There's nothing wrong with my stories!” I argued, even throwing in a pout. That would win him over; I was sure of it.



“You're cute, Alistair.” Success! “I love hearing you talk.” Oh, of course you do. I'm adorable. “But I don't want to hear another word for the rest of the night.” And with that, I felt something press against my mouth. ...You're giving me that look. No. It was not that. It was much too soft and dry to be... that. I felt deft fingers digging and prying my lips apart, and then something rather leather-y and cloth-y being shoved into my mouth. I let out a surprised grunt that was muffled around the object before I probed the object with my tongue.



...Oh come on! Don't make that face. I had to lick it! How else was I supposed to find out what it was?



Ugh, I'm sure you'll get a kick out of this. What I tasted... aside from the taste of cloth... was a rather salty, almost sweaty flavor. My eyebrows furrowed behind their cover as I wondered why Zevran, that jerk, would shove his sweaty clothes into my mouth. And then I thought for a moment, *What clothing was he wearing, anyway?* And thaaat's when it hit me. The size of the garment, the material I felt against my tongue... this was the damn elf's loincloth!



I was furious! I was fuming with anger! ...Or at least I would have been. But somehow my silly, horny brain turned that rage into lust. My body betrayed me as my arousal quickly hardened, and I could feel it start to twitch between my legs.



I was completely helpless. ...Or so I thought I was. Looking back, I'm sort of just now realizing that I was only blindfolded and gagged. I... suppose I could have... say... moved? Took the blindfold off? Called off the entire thing altogether? Funny how your brain doesn't think of those things when your heart is racing.



Gentle hands were placed on my rear, and I could feel them spreading my cheeks. Oh, Maker. I knew what was coming next. My eyes and hands clenched, trying to mentally brace myself for the pain I was sure I would feel. I was pleasantly surprised when I felt something much softer, much smaller, and much... wetter probing me. It had to be his tongue; there was no other explanation for it. And soon I could feel his face pressed against my cheeks as that slick muscle slid over my... uh... w-well y'know...



It wasn't an altogether uncomfortable feeling. I think the discomfort was more in my head, the templar side of me screaming that I should be disgusted by this. The act itself... it was actually pretty nice. Zevran was thoughtful and caring in his ministrations. What he got out of the action, I have no clue. But the more I felt that tongue licking my most tender of spots, preparing me for what was to come, the more comfortable I was beginning to feel.



After a minute... or five...? It's interesting how your internal clock loses its ability to tell time when you're blindfolded. Anyway, he eventually pulled out, placing a parting kiss on one of my cheeks. I could hear and feel him shifting around on the bedroll, and then felt something much larger pressing against the slickened area.



Here we go...



I took a deep breath through my nose to prepare myself. There was a growing pressure against my rear end as the elf tried to penetrate my... er... defenses. One of his hands found its way to my back, a gesture to try to relax me, I thought. He whispered something, but he must have said it in Antivan, because I didn't catch one word of it. Another deep breath filled my lungs, and my exhale turned into a sharp gasp as the head of his shaft abruptly entered me.



It hurt. Of course it did. I was a virgin, and a male. This was... not what my body was built for. Granted, being a former templar and a Grey Warden, I was quite used to pain. This was... just a very different pain. It wasn't immense or insurmountable. I just... didn't know how to get myself over the dull sting that I was feeling. That length began pressing deeper into me, and I could feel it slowly stretching my body around it. I instinctively bit my lip to fight the pressure-- which really just ended up as me biting into his dirty, dirty underwear. Again, it wasn't too painful. Yet. But it would definitely take some getting used to.



Contrary to what I would have initially expected, Zevran was giving me that time. He was a very patient lover; which, the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. What good would an assassin be if he was too quick and reckless? I was sure that he was just as slow and accommodating with every mark that he slept with and killed.



....And I really wished I hadn't made that connection.



This is when Zevran's patience became detrimental to my experience. Because now, my mind had time to wander. And at the moment it had wandered into Paranoia Town; population: me and a sneaky assassin. I was giving him every opportunity to finish the job that the Crows had sent him to do, and off me right then and there. And--



“Oooommff!” Yep, that was when he had ended his slow, initial entry with a quick thrust, burying himself inside of me, and forcing me to grunt against his undergarments. I heard him chuckle softly before drawing back, following up with another thrust, not nearly as tender as the first. And again.



The pace was still rather slow. Or... at least slow enough for my mind to remain stuck on the clothing clenched between my teeth. It was odd. It was slightly sweaty, of course. But it didn't taste like... semen or anything. So what was so dirty about this? Did Zevran simply get off on gagging his victims?



Unless... they're poisoned. Oh, that would be vile. Being an elven assassin, surely his nether regions would be immune to such a thing. Even then, his marks would never suspect a thing. Oh what a story that would be for him to tell the Crows when he returned. 'Oh, the Grey Warden? Yeah, I killed him by gagging him with my poison panties!' Well the joke was on the Antivan, this time! Because my instincts were too good to fall for such a plot!



....Except for the fact that I already had them in my mouth...



Blast, he really was a great assassin...



“Nnnnh!” Another muffled moan tried to escape my mouth, drawing me from my thoughts as, thankfully (really? I was thankful for this?), he began moving quicker. My eyes clenched shut from the force of the thrusts, rendering the blindfold rather needless. The discomfort was still there, but there was a bit of pleasure that began to well up inside me-- which was made rather obvious by my stiff arousal. I could feel it bobbing up and down between my legs with each thrust from the elf.



“You feel delightful, Warden~” Ah, words I could understand! Though I could hardly hear them over the mixed symphony of taut skin and muscles slapping against mine, and the drumming of my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. Or was that from the storm outside? It was hard to differentiate at the moment. I didn't really care to try. A typhoon could come and blow the camp away for all I cared. All I wanted to do was focus on that building pleasure. I didn't know what Zevran was doing to make me feel it, but I wished he would do more of it.



His impressive manhood continued to sink into me, making me feel just so utterly full, but at the same time craving more. This activity... this wasn't lovemaking, no. We had become demons. Zevran the desire demon, and ol' Alistair, the insatiable hunger demon. That's... rather embarrassing to think of myself in that way, but it was a very accurate description. I started to rock back against the other male, trying to get more of that exciting feeling that his movements were bringing to me. My heart continued to pound in my chest and my forehead started to drip with sweat. It was becoming rather difficult to catch my breath with my mouth blocked off, but I didn't care. I was mentally moaning the elf's name. Screaming it. Begging for him to keep doing what he was doing.



We stayed like that for, what felt like, ever. Our bodies slamming against each other, his grunts and Antivan curses drowning out my muffled sounds.



And then... it happened. That wicked witch of the Wilds, Morrigan, burst in on us, and turned us both into frogs!



What? You're calling me a liar? Oh. I'm hurt... You're correct, but I'm still hurt~



Zevran... I have no clue what he did, but he must have struck a spot deep inside of me, because I saw stars-- and you can imagine how difficult that was with a blindfold on! His shaft touched something in me, and it felt better than I could have ever imagined. Shivers ran through my spine, and I could feel the seed just oozing out of my own twitching length. My body tensed slightly, and I rose up to my knees, a shaky hand quickly moving to remove the gag from my mouth. “Z-Zevran! R-Right there! Please!”



I had no shame, I begged him, begged him, to repeat whatever he had just done. That feeling... Maker, I hope you get to feel it yourself, someday. Er, not that I want somebody to bend you over and... oh, you get what I mean.



But that damned elf. Even during sex he couldn't resist teasing me. “I don't recall telling you to remove those from your mouth,” he said. Ohhh, I would have punched him if I didn't want him to keep thrusting into me.



“P-Please, Zevran!” I pleaded. I'm pretty sure I even whined a bit. “That spot...!”



I heard the Antivan chuckle. “Well since you asked so nicely...”



Had I known that there was a spot inside of me that could make me feel so astoundingly overwhelmed with pleasure, I would have done this so much sooner. Or... well maybe not. Morals and all. But the feeling I got when Zevran started driving into me harder, right into that spot. Maker...



All of my limbs wanted to give out. My spine felt like it would turn to jelly with each well-placed thrust. My body was stuck at a crossroads. It was either fall back onto my hands and knees and brace myself against the ground, or it was lean back into the elf's movements and hold onto Zevran. My hands instinctively went with the latter, moving back to latch onto the other male's firm rear. I heard a chuckle rumble from the assassin, and deft hands moved along my chest and stomach, holding me to him as his hips pounded away.



It was amazing, feeling the elf's strong body move against mine as he claimed his spot inside of me. My length bounced and twitched with each rough jerk of his hips, and I could feel a thick river of cum oozing from my tip. I wanted so badly to reach down and stroke myself, but clinging to Zevran's buttcheeks was the only thing keeping me from collapsing into a boneless pile. Besides, with the way I could feel my loins tensing...



“Oh, Maker, don't stop...!” I cried out. I was thankful that Zevran was done with his teasing. There was no smart reply from the elf. Instead, he did as I asked, grunting as he slammed his length into my body repeatedly. My own shaft bobbed rigidly with each thrust, edging closer to climax with each heartbeat that pulsed through it. I swear I saw stars from the pleasure spiking through me. I lost all awareness of what was going on around me; the storm, the rain, my moans, the clap that his hips made against my rear-- all of it just melted into one cloud of noise.



I knew I was whimpering something, but I can't quite remember what I was trying to say. Something like, “PleasepleasepleasesoclosepleaseMakerdon'tstoppleaseZevran!” So yeah, imagine what that would sound like with my moans and cries of ecstasy sprinkled on top.



Whether or not he was answering my pleas, I am not certain. His voice and grunts became lost in the mix. But the way his hands were gripping my torso said enough. He was squeezing his arms tighter around me, fingers pressed into my flesh. I don't know what he was saying verbally, but his movements told me that he needed this just as badly as I did.



The elf rapidly continued to drive us both toward release. His pace didn't falter, except for a brief moment where he pulled back, pausing a moment before ramming back inside of me, and moving even more feverishly than before. The short change in pace gave my body a false sense of relaxation, just for a second, before that spot inside of me was hit once more, and I felt like I was going to explode.



Zevran's renewed thrusts were almost more than I could handle. The tension in my loins had me nearly screaming for release. Thank the Maker it was storming; otherwise our companions might have come in, for fear that I was being murdered or something brutal like that. Ugh, can you imagine Sten walking in on something like that? Yikes.



Nonetheless, I had lost nearly all control, and was a slave to my own pleasure. After a few more deep plunges from the elf, I couldn't take it anymore. Taking the risk of losing my balance, I removed one of my hands from the Antivan's rear and desperately began stroking myself. The feeling of finally having physical contact on my throbbing length was almost enough to make me double over. Luckily, Zevran's arms around my chest and stomach were enough to hold me up, even through the needful jerks of his hips.



I panted for air, crying out loudly. Once my hand went to work, it only took a few more slams of those slender hips to finish things up. And... WOW.



My entire body stiffened, and it felt like every muscle inside of me was focused on my orgasm. My hips bucked wildly, abs clenching, thighs tightening to brace myself. All of the pressure gathered in my loins until, with the kind of desperate moan that I didn't even know I was capable of, it came pouring out of me. Thick, pent-up bursts of cum shot from my length, painting the bedroll and ground beneath us. I don't know how many streams I fired off, a dozen, maybe? And each one almost hurt from how powerful it was. I swear to Andraste that one of them hit the wall of the tent across the room. Don't ask me to show you, because I don't think I could do it again.



My vision was dark and blurry (blindfold notwithstanding). I could only feel my climax flushing through my body, as well as the continued thrusts from the man behind me. I could sense that his own orgasm wasn't far off. Skilled fingers dug into my chest, and the elf's grunts became more apparent over the mixture of my moans and the thunderclaps. I briefly felt his hot breath against my ear before teeth clamped down on it, biting softly, making me shiver as my body began to come down from euphoria.



Zevran growled, almost beast-like, with my ear between his teeth, and gave a few more deep, emphasizing thrusts as he reached his own peak. I could feel that thickness twitching and pulsing as my no-longer-virgin hole squeezed around it. Warm streams of cum began filling my depths, and I could feel his body jerking and tensing against mine with each shot.



Don't ask me how much he came either, because I wasn't paying any attention at all. My body was finally starting to come down from my orgasm, joints loosening, feeling almost numb. I began to fall forward, and this time Zevran's arms no longer had the strength to hold me up. So we collapsed there on the bedroll. Me, in a heaving, sweaty mess, trying to catch my breath; and Zevran, still buried inside of me, head rested on my shoulder as he whispered soft things in his native tongue.



A few minutes passed. Or was it half an hour? I honestly lost all track of time. I could have taken a nap for all I know. So... er...



Eventually, I started to become aware of my surroundings once more. And that's when the discomfort began building up. The weight of what I had just done was settling in; but to be honest, I didn't feel all too guilty about it. No, the awkward part was trying to figure out what to do next? Maker, I hadn't done this before. What does one say after sleeping with another? 'Thanks for the good time, now let's go kill some Darkspawn?' No, no, that just didn't seem right. I briefly wondered if he felt at as much of a loss as I did. Usually he slept with his targets and killed them after bedding them; so did he know what to do in this situation?



So I laid there in silence for a few minutes-- and it really was a few minutes this time. That was when he began shifting around on top of me. I was hoping he had found a decent way to conclude this, because I couldn't think of a thing.



“Mmm...” he moaned softly, raising himself up a bit before placing a warm kiss on my back. He then relaxed once more, his head nuzzled against my shoulder. A hand found its way up to soothingly rub at my bicep. “Y'know,” he said tiredly, that accent somehow sounding even sexier than before, “this will make a wonderful story for you to tell. Much better than your others.”



Ah, so we were back to the witty banter~!

________________________________________________________________

[[ A/N: Nnf, those men~

Gnaw on this: Does a story written in a first-person perspective make it more difficult for you to get invested into the action?

-YZ ]]