Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Dragon Age universe but my games and strategy guides. This is just me making a mess in the sandbox.
The exclamation woke Aidan Cousland from a sound, wonderful sleep that was blessedly free of the Archdemon, darkspawn, or the dead shadows of his family that tended to haunt him. He frowned at the interruption then stretched out, expecting to come into contact with warm skin and hear a certain elf's mischievous chuckle.
But there is only the other half of the bedroll, blankets tossed back and the spot going cold, to greet him. Aidan's frown deepened as a string of Antivan curses came from outside the tent and he rose, searching blindly for his trousers in the dark. Leaving them only laced enough to stay on, he grabbed his dagger – Never go anywhere unarmed, Pup, he remembers Father saying – and pushed past the open flap to step outside.
Zevran is nowhere in sight once he blinks away the glare of the sudden light from the fire. He notices Morrigan is still awake, her golden eyes trailing across his bare chest like she wants to devour him alive and screaming…
Maker, the apostate can be creepy sometimes. Alistair is very right about that.
Aidan started to open his mouth but she smirked and said, "Your assassin went that way." He followed the line of her finger towards the trees at the edge of their camp beyond the spot where Shale stands drowsing or whatever the golem does when no one's awake to do anything. Lines creased on his forehead – lines he was sure he didn't have before Howe's betrayal – and he wondered why Zevran went back into the Brecilian Forest. After they'd finished helping the Dalish and stopping the curse Zathrian had kept going for so long, the elf had seemed eager to put it behind them.
"Thank you," he said shortly and went after the elf, making use of the tracking skills he'd learned at Fergus' heels. As he went, Aidan realized that the trail was too perfect and that Zevran wanted to be followed.
What plan did the assassin have up his sleeve now?
For a moment the thought of everything – the words exchanged at night by the fire, the sultry glances, that first bone-searing kiss – having been a ploy came to mind. He pushed it aside, though, unable to stomach the thought.
Zevran may have been an assassin but he had his honor. He wouldn't turn on him, not now. Not after everything.
Shaking his head, Aidan continued on, though he wished idly that he'd thought to bring Sabat with him. The mabari would have run down his wayward elf in no time and dragged him back to camp.
Suddenly he was in a clearing and all thought fled from the youngest Cousland's mind as he came to a halt. There, perched on a stump wearing nothing but his smallclothes was Zevran, his head tilted back towards the sky in languor, eyes closed, and his whole body lax with exhaustion. For a moment he wanted to turn around and leave the elf to…to whatever he was doing but persistence broke through.
"Zev?" queried Aidan and the assassin let out a soft sigh.
"How far would you follow me, mi amor, if you knew all the things I'd done?" asked the Antivan without opening his eyes. "Would you still…care?"
Oh for the love of Andraste, was that was this was about? He'd noticed the elf growing distant from him after the gift he'd given but this was too much.
Aidan rolled his eyes, let out a growl, and stormed across the clearing towards the elf. He flung down his dagger as he approached then pounced on the elf, clearly surprising the assassin as he straddled his lap. Pinning Zevran down against the stump with his weight, he reached for the elf's face and leaned in to capture his lips. For a moment there was no reaction then the mouth underneath his began to move, fighting his for dominion, and it tore a hungry sound out of his chest.
Slim, calloused hands were in his hair then and Aidan growled before he released the elf's mouth. He went for his throat then, kissing and raking his teeth across the skin until Zevran gasped his name, hips jerking against his own.
When Aidan finally pulled away to regard the elf who was eying him with open surprise, he couldn't help but smile wolfishly. Then he slid a hand up into the blond hair and breathed, "Maker, you're an idiot."
"Ningún argumento." Zevran then frowned and said, "The question still stands."
"Please," replied Aidan with a scoff, "that question couldn't stand if it was sober." Sighing and shaking his head, he leaned in close to the Antivan and kissed his lips lightly, smiling at the gentle response to the touch. "Zev, I've faced darkspawn, werewolves, and a very fierce old nanny. Your past isn't going to scare me away."
"It is not a matter of scaring, mi amor."
"Disgust then." At the elf's unconvinced look, Aidan groaned and fought the urge to shake the thin, wiry frame underneath him. "Maker, must I carry you bodily back to the tent and ravage you to make you see that you're not going to scare me away?"
There was a flare of something in the brown eyes that seemed to focus anywhere but on his face. Then Zevran chuckled softly and asked, "Is it not supposed to be I doing the ravaging?"
"We'll take it in turns."
The elf let out a choked laugh at that then Aidan found himself with wiry arms around his chest and the blond head buried into his shoulder. He wound his free arm around Zevran without pause, the other moving his hand deeper into the elf's hair before starting to knead at his scalp. That caused a groan to gasp into his skin and he heard the whisper of Antivan words but couldn't quite make them out.
When Zevran finally lifted his head, Aidan felt slim fingers trailing up over his shoulder to his right ear. He stilled as the elf cupped the delicate shell and smiled as he realized he'd stunned the normally talkative Antivan into silence. Though how the generally attentive assassin hadn't noticed that he'd been wearing the gifted earring for a while now escaped the warrior.
"Yes, yes, and yes," said Aidan with a smile. "Now are you convinced I'm not going to chuck you out into the street in nothing but your smallclothes?"
Zevran opened his mouth, blinked, then smirked. "While I am dressed for such, you do not have a street."
"I'm sure I could find one if I really needed it," joked Aidan. He then ran his fingers through the elf's hair and asked, "Will you come back to bed now? My bedroll is cold."
The spark that had attracted him to the assassin in the first place was back in those brown eyes then. Fingers tangled in his hair and Aidan tilted his head back as lips found his throat in a hungry kiss. "Is that so?" purred the elf, voice rumbling against his skin. "Perhaps I can remedy this problem of yours, dear Warden."
"Dear Warden is it now?" asked Aidan, eyes falling closed and his lips wanting to say Don't stop. "I'm hurt, Zev. Really. Right here, in the heart."
"You are talking too much, mi amor."
"And you seem convinced we shouldn't go back to the tent."
Zevran chuckled but he continued pulling at the half-done laces of Aidan's trousers, fingers sliding underneath to touch bare skin and pull the fabric downward. "If we go back to camp, you will not make the noises I want to hear," growled the elf as he gave a sharp tug at the trousers. "You and your…propiedad."
"My what?" asked Aidan with a gasping laugh even as he rose to shed the suddenly confining trousers.
"Your propriety," answered Zevran as he dragged him back down into his lap. "You seem to think they would not like to hear you scream my name."
"I'm just thinking of what it would do to Alistair's poor innocent ears. You saw how he blushed the last time Leliana started talking about us. Maker, I thought he was about to explode – we really need to get the man laid."
That brought a snort out of the elf. "Tornillo de orejas inocentes," snapped Zevran and Aidan choked on pointing out that he had no idea what he'd just said. He'd gotten the gist of it though and laughed before dragging the assassin into a kiss.
"I think," he rumbled after they parted, "that you need to stop talking and get to this bit about me screaming your name and making all sorts of interesting noises."
The talking did stop after that and judging by the blushing of Alistair and Leliana's quiet giggling as she whispered in the former Templar's ear when they returned to camp in the morning, they had been heard despite the distance. As they settled next to the fire for breakfast though and warm fingers found his ear again, Aidan couldn't bring himself to care what they'd heard.
He had the elf he loved – assassin and the whole sordid past – at his side again and that was all that mattered.