Now, all of his attention was focused on the man standing by the fire in the large main hall. Daire looked well, it seemed to Zevran. He always thought Daire looked good, that went without saying, with those vivid blue eyes and that resolute square chin, but he was happy to see that Daire also looked entirely healthy and wasn't missing any body parts.

New sword, Zevran noted, a giant blade even more vicious-looking than Daire's usual two-hander. Hair still cropped so close it was barely more than dark fuzz. Stubble more pronounced than it usually was. And while it just wasn't possible that Daire could have grown any taller at his age (not that he needed it, at his height), it did seem as if Daire's shoulders were just a little broader than before.

Zevran shook his head. He'd watched enough -- ogled, to be honest, but how could anyone resist ogling a man like that? Dropping every pretense at stealth, he launched himself across the hall in the fearless certainty that he'd be caught in his lover's arms rather than skewered on a sword that was, he had no doubt, taller than he was.

"Did you miss me, my warden?"

Daire's arms closed around him, holding him up without any effort as Zevran clamped his knees around the man's hips. One of Daire's hands slid into Zevran's hair and pulled his head back enough that Daire could look him in the face. "Yes," Daire growled. "Where in the name of Andraste's holy toenail clippings have you been?"

Before Zevran could answer, Daire kissed him. Hard. There was nothing questioning about this kiss, nothing slow or tentative or cautious, as might have been the case between other lovers parted for months. No, Daire wasn't asking anything, he was reasserting dominance over what was his. Zevran opened his mouth and felt a curl of heat inside as Daire's tongue thrust in.

Oh, this man did it for him. Every time. Always.

Daire's free hand slid down Zevran's back to curve familiarly around his arse, supporting him and groping him at the same time. Zevran approved. He gave himself over completely to the kiss, clinging to Daire's truly magnificent shoulders. As nice as it was to ogle Daire, touching him was so much better.

Zevran had always admired Daire's ability to adjust instantly to whatever situation he found himself in, to react with a speed no one would expect from a man built like the side of a mountain. It hadn't stopped him from trying to catch Daire by surprise time and time again, but he had to admit, in this one particular endeavor, he enjoyed failing.

Pulling back at last from the kiss, Daire nipped at Zevran's lower lip and then shifted his grip and slung Zevran over his shoulder -- the left one, thankfully, so Zevran wasn't brained by a huge sword hilt. He also took a moment to feel grateful that Daire was wearing plain clothes, not the kind of massive armor full of spiky bits that he normally favored. That would probably have been more than a little uncomfortable.

Daire strode off, carrying Zevran out of the hall and down a wide corridor, past a few open doors, across a small interior courtyard, up a short flight of stairs, past a group of people who were mostly just boots to Zevran--

"Was that the commander," someone asked, "carrying an elf?"

A loud belch sounded suspiciously familiar. "Hah, it's just like old times." It was familiar. Zevran tried to crane his neck to see if Oghren had washed his beard lately. "Least this place has stone walls. You wouldn't believe how loud those two can get."

Daire stopped and swung around, so Zevran couldn't even see the boots any more. "Nathaniel, you're in charge until tomorrow. I don't want to be disturbed. Anders, stop staring. Oghren, shut up."

Then Daire spun on his heel again and strode off, followed by Oghren's disconsolate, "Oh, sure, he tells me to be quiet."

Up more stairs, in through a wooden door, and then Daire slammed the door behind them and turned a key in the lock, and a tingle ran over Zevran's skin at the sound. Daire swung him down and set him on his feet, but kept him in a loose embrace, and Zevran tilted his head back, hoping for another kiss.

Instead, Daire pushed Zevran's hair back and started to nibble on the edge of his ear. Zevran groaned and clutched at Daire's arms. "Put the sword away," he suggested.

Daire drew back and grinned at him, unslung the sword and hung it neatly on two pegs in the wall that seemed to be set there for just that purpose. On the armor stand close by was a set of something black and sinister-looking and, yes, spiky. Zevran smiled a little. His warden was predictable sometimes.

"Take your clothes off," Daire said, voice dropping into a husky rasp. "Let me look at you."

"As much as you like," Zevran said, quickly divesting himself of his weapons, visible and less visible, and his comfortable leathers. He enjoyed being naked in front of Daire, whose leisurely, appreciative gaze stroked Zevran's skin with a weight and heat that made all the fine hairs on his body stand up. Any other lover, Zevran suspected, would have needed hands and tongue to get the same effect.

Daire pulled his own shirt off and sat on the edge of the bed. It was a huge four-poster, Zevran saw, made of some dark wood. The wide mattress was covered with a fancy brocade spread, and one end was piled high with equally fancy pillows. None of it looked half as splendid as Daire, leaning back on his arms and showing off his chest, his shoulders, and a new scar. Zevran frowned.

"Come here," Daire said. "Come over here and suck me." Now that his shirt was off, now that he was leaning back and thrusting his hips forward, it was very obvious that his cock was straining against the front of his leggings.

Zevran sank to his knees between Daire's spread legs and appreciated the thick bedside rug that cushioned him from the stone floor. He used both hands to free Daire's cock, kissed the head and rubbed his cheek against the shaft. The first time he'd seen Daire naked, Zevran had thought his ambition to seduce the man was perhaps a little too ambitious. Of course he'd noticed the size difference between races before, but he hadn't even known they made humans that large.

Now he knew just how wide he had to stretch his lips to fit the head of Daire's cock in his mouth. His tongue was flooded with precum, and Zevran made a low sound; he'd missed that taste, missed trying to suck in more of Daire's cock and failing, missed kneeling before his warden with his mouth stretched wide and saliva running down his chin as he worked his tongue against the hard weight pressing down on it.

Daire groaned in approval as Zevran worked his cock with hands and mouth. He dropped back on one elbow and curved his other hand around Zevran's head, caressing and encouraging, rubbing his thumb against the edge of Zevran's ear. Between that and the cock in his mouth, Zevran was hard as stone.

He knew Daire could last a long, long time, but his jaw and his knees had barely started to go numb when Daire's hand curled tighter in his hair and he felt the flesh in his mouth grow even thicker, hotter, stiffer. Daire tugged his head back, and Zevran, knowing what was coming, closed his eyes and kept his mouth open. A moment later he felt the hot spatter of Daire coming on his face. Some of the cum landed in his open mouth, and he moaned in pleasure; he'd missed that taste even more.

Zevran blinked his eyes open to find Daire watching him, smiling at him, looking a great deal more relaxed. "What would you have of me now, my warden?" he asked.

"You're so beautiful like this," Daire said, tugging him closer until he could grab him and pull them both up to lie on the bed, Daire on his back and Zevran sprawled out across his chest. "You look perfect with my cum all over your face." He rubbed at Zevran's ear again, and Zevran responded with his whole body, grinding down back against Daire's body, feeling Daire's cock, still half-hard and likely to harden again soon enough.

Daire wiped Zevran's face with delicate little fingertip swipes, and Zevran sucked Daire's fingers clean one by one as they were thrust into his mouth. "Thank you," he said when they were done, rubbing his cheek against Daire's palm, feeling soft skin and sword calluses.

Daire caressed him in return and rolled them over, pressing Zevran into the bed and kissing him, first tenderly and then roughly, tipping Zevran's head back and thrusting his tongue in and out of Zevran's mouth. Zevran would have ground up against the sweat-slick skin of Daire's torso if he'd been able to move; instead he made little hungry sounds as Daire bit his jaw and licked his neck, moving slowly down but keeping Zevran pinned the whole time with his hands and with the weight of his body. Zevran couldn't even shiver when Daire started to lick his nipples, though his skin drew tight.

"I missed you," Daire said, the words sloppy and slurred. "A lot. And you missed this, didn't you, my tongue, my cock. What do you want most? Do you want me to lick your pretty arse, or fuck you hard?" Zevran's breath caught in his throat, and he couldn't answer. Daire chuckled. "Not that it matters, because I'll do both, anyway."

"Yes," Zevran moaned in a tone not very many steps from begging. When Daire sat back on his heels and flipped Zevran to lie on his front, he spread his legs without being told. Daire started kissing down his spine, slow kisses, but not too slow, the pace teasing rather than torturous. Zevran still arched up into every touch, his back rippling impatiently, until Daire's lips were on his tailbone, Daire's large hands gripped his arse and spread him open and then that clever tongue was on him in broad, flat strokes, every one sending a slow sizzle along his nerves.

It had been so long, too long, entirely too long since he'd last felt like this, since he'd last been with his warden, the only one who made him feel like this. The only one who had ever made him feel this. Zevran bit his lip and dug into the bedspread with fingers and toes, desperate not to come just yet. He could feel it rise in his throat, that stream of incoherent babble that no one before Daire had ever drawn from him, and he bit his lip again, harder, trying to stem it, then bit a pillow instead, feeling the fabric squeak against his teeth.

Daire's fingers dug into his hips, and Daire said into his skin, "Let me hear you," and then stabbed with his tongue, repeated rhythmic pressure.

Zevran keened. He couldn't fight it. "...too long, missed you so much, oh, oh yes, like that, want this forever, I want to be like this forever, yours, I want to be yours forever," dear Maker, what was he saying? He couldn't promise anyone forever. Except now he could. "Your tongue, Daire. Yes. Yes! It's like you're swearing an oath, speaking in tongues, telling the truth..."

The low pulsating hum and the gusts of breath, that was Daire laughing. "I've got nothing but truth for you, Zevran."

"And it's so good," Zevran said, "it's so..." He felt a new pressure, at the same time firmer and slicker, and pushed back into it as Daire's finger sank into him, as Daire went on pleasuring him with fingers and tongue, driving him higher and higher. "...so much, it's so much, it's too much and not enough, my warden, I can never have enough of you."

This had been too long, too, and he felt tense as a virgin at first. Daire Cousland was not a small man in any way, and that included his fingers. He had the most beautiful hands, Zevran thought, strong and sinewy and long-fingered and unexpectedly gentle, and with those fingers and that clever tongue he opened Zevran up and wound him tighter than a loaded crossbow.

"You'd better be ready," Daire said at long last and pulled his fingers out. Zevran could feel the bed move as Daire shifted his weight, and then the pressure of Daire's cock; it felt impossible, but he knew it wasn't, and just whimpered quietly as Daire started to push in. Daire's clean hand stroked up his back, then gripped his shoulder, holding him steady. "So tight, Zev, you're so tight and hot and... tight, Maker, did you even finger yourself while you were away?"

Zevran made another sound as Daire rolled his hips in short thrusts. "No," he admitted. "It wasn't... I didn't want..." He hadn't wanted his own fingers, or anyone else's fingers. His mind had been wholly focused on what he needed to do, and he hadn't allowed himself to become distracted, for once, by anything his body might want.

Anyway, it seemed all his body wanted was Daire. Zevran shuddered, and his body yielded itself completely; Daire was deep in him now, and then Daire bent forward so his chest was against Zevran's back, so their bodies were touching and Daire's hot breath was in Zevran's ear. "You wanted this," he whispered softly as he began to thrust. "You're mine."

"Ngh," Zevran said. Daire wasn't being rough with him, but he wasn't holding back, either. There was no gentle build-up, just long, deep, steady thrusts. And yes, he was ready, he was more than ready for this, for Daire on him and in him, skin-close, breath-close, more necessary than air.

Daire nipped at his ear. "Tell me."

"Yours," Zevran gasped out. "Always yours, my warden, my mouth is yours, my arse is yours, my body belongs to you." He pushed his hips up and felt himself claimed even deeper. Daire had him so completely, even the breath in his lungs didn't seem to be his own. "Oh. Oh, you make me feel..."

"Yes," Daire said, and he went on fucking steadily, not deviating in the slightest from this inexorable rhythm, this relentless in-and-out that dragged the pleasure in Zevran closer and closer to the skin. "And you make me feel."

Zevran's elbows gave out and he dropped forward, and Daire went with him, just as close as before, just as deep. It was true: his body was completely given over, belonged to Daire to do with what he pleased, but there was more to it than that. He'd sworn himself to Daire piecemeal over their time together, service and sword, body and breath, pleasure and pain, and finally hand and heart, though that promise remained unspoken.

But perhaps still understood.

"Yours," he said again, "yours," though the words were muffled by the bedcovers and Daire's fingers, one of Daire's hands was on his face now, touching as if Daire's fingertips could read his mind. Zevran licked at one of those fingers, sucked two fingertips into his mouth, and the taste of skin and woodsmoke steadied him. "Yours," not more than a small sound around the fingers in his mouth, "always yours."

After that, Zevran just gave himself over completely to sensation. There was no room for thought. There was nothing in him but pleasure and Daire, Daire and pleasure, bound so inescapably together for him that it seemed he could no longer have one without the other. And the pleasure was complete and perfect, building and building with every steady thrust, until it became too much for his body to contain and he howled around Daire's fingers and came, and came, and came.

There was barely enough strength left in him to take Daire's steady pounding, and then the last few fast, heavy thrusts. Daire groaned and rolled them both sideways as they fell, and then they lay very still, with Daire still inside Zevran, Daire's big body curved around his.

"Tell me," Daire said again, but it was clear from his voice he meant something very different now. "Where have you been, Zevran?"

"I sent you a letter," Zevran said. "It was hidden inside a subscription request for a circular from the merchants' guild in Tantervale, and..."

Daire nipped at his ear. "I'm the Arl of Amaranthine," he said mildly. "I have a seneschal who opens the mail that isn't addressed specifically to me. Actually, the seneschal might have a secretary who opens the mail. Wherever your letter ended up, it certainly never came to me." He nipped Zevran's ear again, harder. "You said you were just going on an errand. Then you left and you never came back."

"I'm back now," Zevran said. "If you'll have me." He chuckled a little. "I think that question has already been answered in the most immediate sense."

Daire held him even tighter, though Zevran would have said such a thing was not really possible. "Tell. Me."

"I went to Antiva," Zevran said. "The Crows kept sending me... messages, so I went to make it absolutely clear that they should stop."

"What kind of messages?"

Zevran tried to shrug, but he had a very large and heavy Fereldan warrior as close as a second skin. "Oh, that they still owned me. That they would kill me. That they would kill someone close to me."

This time Daire's mouth on his ear was a bit more gentle. "I can take care of myself, you know. I killed the archdemon. I can probably handle a few assassins."

"The archdemon," Zevran said, "would not have attempted to poison your tea."

That made Daire laugh, a deep rumble. "True. I don't think the archdemon even knew what tea was. Not that I stopped to ask."

"I killed the guildmaster," Zevran said. "I was asked to take his place."

"Yet here you are," Daire said.

"Yes, of course." Zevran wished he could turn, to see Daire's face. But possibly it was better that he couldn't. "This is my place."

Daire kissed his ear. No teeth. "Tell me."

Zevran drew a deep breath against the arms that held him. "I am yours. For as long as you will have me, in whatever way you will have me. There are no other claims on me."

"I'll have you," Daire said. "In every way, Zevran. For as long as I live." His right hand settled flat on Zevran's chest, fingers outspread. "You're mine. And I'll never wear that fancy gold jewellery you gave me, but I'm yours."

Zevran choked on a tiny burst of laughter. "Ah, you rejected my gift, and it made me very sad."

Daire's voice was dry as dust. "Yes, I can tell. Just as you could tell what a big fan of personal jewellery I am."

Zevran was sweaty and sticky, and his back was almost uncomfortably warm with Daire plastered against him, while his front was beginning to feel a little too chilled. This was Ferelden, after all, and even bedrooms were never quite warm enough.

He felt wonderful.

"Tell me," he said, turning Daire's words back at him, "what have you been doing while I've been gone?"

"Nothing much." He could feel Daire shrug. "Killed a few darkspawn."

"That's not quite the story they tell in Amaranthine," Zevran said. "They love you very much there. They say you saved the city."

"I couldn't just burn it." Daire sounded awkward. "All those people..." He pressed his face against the back of Zevran's head. "So I abandoned the Vigil instead, did they tell you that? At least the soldiers at the Vigil were, you know. Soldiers."

"But this place looks fine." Zevran tried to turn, again, and was stopped by Daire's arms around him, again. "Very well. But you must tell me the full story later, my warden."

"Later." Daire was still inside him, and now Daire began to move again, hips rocking forward. Zevran gasped, and Daire chuckled. "You keep calling me that. I'm the warden-commander now, you know."

Zevran smiled. "Yes, but you are my warden." He rocked back as Daire rocked forward, meeting the thrust. It was too soon for Zevran to be anything but mildly aroused, but Daire had a warden's appetite in this as in all other things. "And I am--"

"Mine," Daire said, pushing forward harder until Zevran was under him again, spread out and held down and perfectly happy.

"Mm. Yours."

The fancy brocade spread would probably never be the same again.

* * *

dragon age || e‑mail
story on ao3 || story on dreamwidth