He barks a laugh at that, one soft, cynical ha, breathless against heated skin. Always joking, and would he ever get through all of your defenses, Zevran, to see you at your heart? Perhaps not, and it was a futile dream, but Mahariel was the definition of stubborn.
"No, you're easy to lose, if you want to be," He counters, rolling his hips in acquiescence to the silent request in Zevran's fingers, "But I'm very... Very good at tracking down lost things."
Andraste's ashes, Grey Warden treaties, Qunari swords, ancient elvhen treasures, Caridan's Thaig, and the honor of shemlen... What was there that was lost, which he could not find? He had spent his life as a hunter, and all that had changed since the Joining had been the choice of target.
"I could have found you, Zev. Hunted you across all of Thedas and demanded to know what the hells you were doing, so far away from me," Another slow, delicious grind, full-bodied and sensual, his mouth open against Zev's to bite off a kiss, and then soothe the sting with something more of love than fear, with his own fierce tenderness, "But I love you. And I will never let myself become a collar around your neck. You should be allowed to go and do whatever you want, even if that means I lose you."
How long, how many years had Zevran been a slave in all but name? Purchased as a child, trained through torture, never his own master, never his own man? Never free to truly choose a lover, not even Theron, who he surely only seduced at first out of fear, or obligation, or some attempt to broker a deal. Whatever brightness lived in them now, shone in the shadow of that truth.
"So I made a choice, and I lived with the consequences. Until today. So don't tell me you're difficult to lose, you ass. I love you better than that."
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"No, you're easy to lose, if you want to be," He counters, rolling his hips in acquiescence to the silent request in Zevran's fingers, "But I'm very... Very good at tracking down lost things."
Andraste's ashes, Grey Warden treaties, Qunari swords, ancient elvhen treasures, Caridan's Thaig, and the honor of shemlen... What was there that was lost, which he could not find? He had spent his life as a hunter, and all that had changed since the Joining had been the choice of target.
"I could have found you, Zev. Hunted you across all of Thedas and demanded to know what the hells you were doing, so far away from me," Another slow, delicious grind, full-bodied and sensual, his mouth open against Zev's to bite off a kiss, and then soothe the sting with something more of love than fear, with his own fierce tenderness, "But I love you. And I will never let myself become a collar around your neck. You should be allowed to go and do whatever you want, even if that means I lose you."
How long, how many years had Zevran been a slave in all but name? Purchased as a child, trained through torture, never his own master, never his own man? Never free to truly choose a lover, not even Theron, who he surely only seduced at first out of fear, or obligation, or some attempt to broker a deal. Whatever brightness lived in them now, shone in the shadow of that truth.
"So I made a choice, and I lived with the consequences. Until today. So don't tell me you're difficult to lose, you ass. I love you better than that."