Dragon Age: Origins

Disclaimer: Dragon Age belongs to BioWare and EA Games; it's their sandbox - I'm simply destroying the sandcastles.

Title: Boy Talk

Author: Jade-Max

Author's Note: So we've all see how the women pry into just how good Alistair is in the sack with the female characters, and I got to thinking, wouldn't Zevran and Oghren do the same to Alistair? I mean, they do to some extent in the party banter - Zev's advice to Alistair and his reactions are freaking priceless - but surely if the boys were all left alone at camp, they'd be unable to resist poking fun at him. So, I figured - what the heck; why not?

I used the default human female character name [Elissa] for the purpose of this fic.

Boy Talk

After a full day of traveling, Elissa called a halt near sun down and the companions un-shouldered their packs wearily. She was a hard task master, pushing them to travel towards Denerim at a pace Oghren had trouble keeping up with.

Setting up camp was always something to look forward to.

Elissa helped Alistair dig the fire pit, exchanging somewhat goofy smiles, their hands brushing as they cleared the area. Morrigan, as she was want to do, set up some distance away from the rest as the other companions - with Sten and Dog on guard duty - set up the tents and made the camp hospitable.

Zevran stood from pounding the last peg into his tent in time to see Elissa whisper something to Alistair - something that made the man's ears turn bright pink. Intrigued, he watched, crossing his arms over his chest in unabashed interest, as the former Templar shook his head and abruptly stood. Elissa's laughter rang out across the camp, drawing everyone's eye, and this time Alistair did flush, but said something back none of them could catch.

To Zevran's surprise, Elissa turned a delightfully deep shade of red herself.


Most interesting.

Waiting until Elissa and Alistair had set up their tent just away from the others, and Elissa had taken Morrigan, Leliana, Shale and Wynne hunting, the men of the camp found themselves alone. Oghren and Sten disappeared to collect fire wood, leaving Elissa's Mabari on guard. Never one to waste an opportunity, Zevran approached remaining Grey Warden.

"You seem to have made great strides with our Grey Warden friend, Alistair. I trust your find your time educational?"

"W-what?" startled, Alistair glanced up from tending the fire.

Undaunted, Zevran flashed the other man a lazy smile. "You seem to have gained confidence; one can only assume this is a direct result from the bedding of a beautiful, knowledgeable woman - yes?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business, Zev."

"No? I grew up in a whore house, my friend; now that you have taken this all important step, who better to offer advice than I?"

"We're not seriously having this conversation again, are we?"

The resignation underlying Alistair's exasperation was like music to Zevran's ears. For all the other man disliked the frankness of his conversation, this time - perhaps - he would be open to suggestion. "No need to be shy, my friend; your time in the Chantry could not have prepared you for one with such a voracious appetite as she."

Alistair opened his mouth to respond, but Zevran forged ahead before he could say anything.

"I'm not saying you require instruction - if that was the case, Elissa would likely never have repeated the experience, nor, dare I say, with such frequency."


"Ah ah, no need to be bashful; it is not criticism."

"If you're jealous just say so."

"Jealousy is too petty a word; envious, perhaps." Zevran heaved a heart-felt sigh before his mood once again changed, as lightning quick as his daggers flashed in combat. "Still; no complaints does not mean there are none. Are you sure I cannot interest you in the root I brought with me? It is most potent."

"Ah - no."

Zevran managed not to laugh as Alistair cast about in an obvious bid for some way out of the conversation - the man was too polite to simply tell him to buzz off. Easing closer, Zevran crouched next to the former Templar and reached out to poke the fire with the tip of one dagger. The wood shifted, almost falling over, and sparks spiraled lazily into the air.

Alistair's hand shot out, knocking the Assassin's hand away before he brought the wood crashing down and smothered the fire. "You're a menace, Zev."

Zevran - having accomplished what he set out to do - twisted his wrist as Alistair's hand came in contact with his, dropping his dagger and catching his arm by the forearm. True to form, Alistair's reaction was immediate and protective; his hand naturally clasped the elf's wrist in a grip as if to catch him mid-fall. Their eyes locked.

"And you, my friend, have a jewel; one whose light will not shine if you do not polish it properly."

Predictably, Alistair's cheeks warmed and he looked away, down to their locked arms, and loosened his grip. "Does everything you say have to revolve around... around..."

"Sex?" The note of suppressed laughter in Zevran's voice wasn't disguised by his helpful interjection and earned him a deeper blush and another glare.


"Ah, my friend, when you are good at something, it tends to stay in your thoughts, no?" With a shake of his head and an easy grin, Zevran released his grip on Alistair's wrist. "Only the fool believes he knows all there is to know after a single taste of heaven."

"Well Morrigan would agree with you on that account."

"Which one; that she's had but a single taste of heaven?" cocking his head at Alistair, Zevran's tone took on a teasing note. "Perhaps you should broaden her horizons; channel that animosity into a more productive outlet?"

"You're not... you didn't just... No - no. I must be hearing things."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"I could have sworn you just told me I should... sleep with Morrigan."

Zevran tossed his head back and laughed. "Ah, my naive friend, sleeping should be the last thing on your mind when offered such a beautiful and dangerous woman."

"She's not my type."

"So I gathered. Your fellow Grey Warden is more your speed; as shy and inexperienced as you, no?"


Holding up his hands, Zevran smiled. "You have made it plain you do not wish the advice of one whose experience was gained under the tutor of masters. Perhaps I should be offering my services to her; hmm? The responsibility for pleasure, after all, does not solely rely on the man."

"She doesn't need your help."

"A natural, is she?"

"I... She... We're done talking about this, Zev."

"And just when things were getting interesting," unable to resist teasing the former Templar as he stood, sheathing his dagger before brushing off his hands, Zevran kept his tone conversational. "I did, however, note that you did not tell me to stay away from her. A good choice, my friend, for you will both benefit from my skills!"


"Was that not your intention?"

"Was what his intention?"

The elf and human turned at the gruff voice, Oghren dropping an arm full of wood on the small pile Alistair had raided to begin the fire. A silent Sten took one look at the tableau at the fire and, without a word, turned to find the Mabari hound he preferred for company on watch. None of the three at the fire would miss him; the qunari was the strong, silent type without the need to share his opinion on this particular topic.

Zevran answered Oghren. "Our friend Alistair has just given me leave to tutor his lovely lady in the finer arts of giving pleasure, no?"


Oghren snorted at Alistair's outburst. "Doesn't sound like that to me; take it from someone who knows, kid; a woman who knows what she's doing is more fun."

"Elissa knows what she's do- ugh, I am not talking to the two of you about this."

"I think he implies she has more experience than he," stroking his chin, Zevran exchanged looks with Oghren - an unexpected ally in this. "Ah, more's the shame; she'll know what she's missing."

The dwarf snickered; Alistair's warm cheeks were always a source of amusement. "Only if the lout she was with before was less refined than him."

"Ah, my stout friend," Zevran's laughter was genuine. "Refinement comes from practice, diversity and experimentation; something neither of them is-"

"Zev." Alistair cut in before he could finish his sentence, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared at the two of them.

"What? I am simply lamenting the fact you're unwilling to accept some friendly advice. What is the harm in talking, hmm?"

Oghren, bless him, answered when Alistair did not. "Heh. Like what, elf?"

They couldn't miss the way Alistair deliberately put his back to them - but, Zevran noted with no small amusement, stayed within ear shot. This was, he reflected privately, going to be fun.

"Well... the methods of Antivan society are likely different from those of the dwarves," he conceded. "Finesse and subtlety are essential for setting the right mood."

"Bah; dwarf women are too thick for subtlety; half the time they just want to get it over with."

"Then perhaps I should be giving you pointers," Zevran teased. "For a woman who does not beg for the pleasures to continue is a sadly neglected woman indeed."

"You and all yer fancy words. I bet the Warden doesn't beg for it; bet she's one of them there women who likes it fast."

"Ah, my dwarven companion," shaking his head, Zevran put on a mournful tone. "A woman who prefers to have the deed with over quickly, or who professes to, has never known true pleasure and I sympathize with her. Sex should be enjoyed by both partners and prolonged - to do otherwise is a crime."

"Heh. A dwarf woman would break you in half, elf."

"Perhaps; I confess to a lack of experience with your people. Perhaps you wish to further my education and broaden my horizons?"

"Eh? Yer not my type."

"An, alas, neither are you mine." Eyes gleaming with mischief, Zevran crouched next to the fire again. "Now Alistair, he is more to my fancy; my finger tips itch to release the tension in his-"

"Woah - that's enough!" Alistair cut in before Zevran could continue, giving up his pretense of ignoring them. "I'm right here, do you mind?"

"Oh - were you listening?"


Laughing, the elf cocked his head at the former Templar. "I was simply going to say you could do with a massage, my friend; there is a certain pleasure to be had from melting the tensions out of someone's flesh. An almost... orgasmic experience, yes?"

Oghren let loose a loud bellow of laughter as Alistair's color went from white to brilliant red in less than a heartbeat. Chortling, the dwarf slapped Zevran on the shoulder and nearly sent him sprawling head first into the fire. Only a quick, bracing hand shot out before him saved his dignity. Still laughing, Oghren headed for his tent, leaving the elf and human alone once more.

His gaze still on Alistair, Zevran waited for a response - but didn't get one. "You don't agree?"

"You just don't know when to stop, do you?"

"At least this time you have not plugged your ears with your fingers and began to sing children's songs. There is something to be said for the dedicated attentions of a beautiful woman on a man's... confidence."

"If I say I yield, will you stop?"

"Stop? Whatever for? There is much to learn and little time to teach it before the Warden's return."

"I'm not looking for love lessons or... or whatever you want to call them, Zev; Elissa and I do just fine on our own."

"Ah, my poor, uneducated friend - 'just fine' is a sad way to describe what should be one of life's great pleasures. Come, come, are you certain I can give you no tips?"

"I think I'm going to pass on your generous offer," Alistair responded dryly. "Elissa would have my head if I suddenly knew more than I do now."

"She could still have your head if you are willing to explore such possibilities for pleasure, yes?" That Zevran's rejoinder was given with the same dry tone Alistair had used only served to confuse the former Templar. "I have offered and been rebuked; when she comes to me seeking more than you can give her, do not hate me."

Alistair muttered something, his cheeks still red, as Zevran turned back to his tent and settled on the mat he'd placed outside. Stretching out, he kept one eye on the former Templar, watching as he seemed to be mouthing something to himself over and over again. Reading Alistair's lips, he could see him repeating the comment about heads and pleasures, and silently counted as he waited for Alistair to grasp the meaning.









Alistair stiffened, his color exploding into a beautiful crimson shade as his gaze darted to Zevran and then away before he surged to his feet and went tromping off. With a soft laugh at the other man's expense, Zevran folded his hands behind his head and rolled to his back to stare at the sky which was only just starting to reveal the stars.

A pity, he mused. The discussion in their tent is likely to be entertaining and enlightening tonight; I should have set up closer.