As the sun settled, painting the sky a beautiful orange, I allowed myself to rest under a large oak and entangle my body within the grass. The day had been long; we had been travelling since dawn and yet still no sign of any Dalish Elves. The Blight was constantly at our heals, reminding us of its overbearing presence through Darkspawn ambushes and crippling nightmares. Hungry, exhausted and soaked in tainted blood, we agreed to make camp and close the distance in the morning.

I tore my gaze from the gorgeous sunset before me and directed it to my travelling party. Zevran was sat alone, running a stone repeatedly along the edges of his already razor sharp daggers, humming a tune from his hometown. Morrigan was making snide comments to Wynne concerning the circle, and Alistair was defending her.

Alistair… such a funny name. A man trained in battle, a man who'd taken down more Darkspawn then I can count, a man who maybe one day shall rule Ferelden as its king… and yet, such a gentle, almost sweet name. Alistair… Alistair… roles off the tongue, really. I suppose it suits him, in a way. He was gentle (when he wants to be), he was sweet, he was a good man with a heart of gold who didn't deserve the pain he'd suffered his whole life.

…Oh, great, I'm thinking about him again…

The thought brought a great deal of sweet, hard, crushing pain to my chest, yet now that it was there it was impossible to concentrate on anything else. The colours of the setting sun reminded me of auburn locks, the grass shamed to grow upon the gaze of his piercing green eyes, the land itself… so dangerous yet gentle, fierce yet sweet, full of misery and torment yet with laughter and joy… just like him.

I loved thinking about Alistair… it filled my heart with a warm, soothing feeling. He had the ability to make me forget about everything; the Darkspawn, the civil war, the Blight. Yet sooner or later I awoke from the pleasant dream, and reality crushed my heart within its iron grip.

For the reality was that I loved Alistair, yet he could never love me back.

I was an elf; small, slender, with pointed ears. Don't get me wrong, I was just as strong as any human- just as agile, just as smart, yet I would always be second class in the eyes of men. Alistair, (possibly one day king Alistair) with something subhuman? Impossible…

The other reason being the Blight. Any day could be our last, every ambush, every battle; every unfriendly encounter could be the end of us. It was no time to be thinking about such things, not with death lurking around every corner.

The other? Well… I am a man.

My name is Doran, I am a warrior, an elf and a Grey Warden, and I am forever plagued by a pain even worse than the blood of a thousand Darkspawn.

I rested the back of my head against the trunk of the tree; the soft moss that coated the tree provided excellent comfort. Thoughts of my fellow Grey Warden swam around my mind, like tiny fish in a small pond, or a flock of birds. Not even the small chuckle from my left could awaken me from this trance.

"Well, enjoying the view, are we?" Came Zevran's smoky, musical accent.

It took me a few moments to respond and draw my gaze from the sunset once more, "Hmm?" I mumbled.

Zevran chuckled again, "The view, my red headed Grey Warden. She is beautiful, is she not?"

I glanced at the sunset, "Y-yeah… really beautiful." I nodded, sighing softly.

"Erm… perhaps you misunderstand me." Zevran struggled to hide the amusement in his voice. He knelt down, took my chin between his long fingers and gently turned it to the right. The view, it turned out, was a certain apostate, who was done bickering and was now undressing herself for a dip in a nearby pond. "Mmm…" he growled softly, "poisonous, like a ripe, succulent apple in the children's tales. So beautiful, so tempting… yet one bite…" He jerked my head back to face him, miming the sound of breaking bone. He laughed softly at my expression, giving the flesh on my jaw a quick squeeze before releasing me from his grip.

"That's not even remotely amusing, Zevran." I glared, crossing my arms and turning away.

"Aww, come, come now, must a Blight really be all about the killing and the conflict and the seriousness?" He sat down beside me, nudging my leg with his, "Cheer up, my friend! Trust me, if I wanted to snap your neck," his fingers slithered up my arm, as softly as a warm summer breeze, "I would… it would be too easy." His voice dropped to a smoky whisper as his fingers moved closer and closer to my neck. His expression hardened, his fingers just ghosting over the crook of my unprotected neck. I almost believed he would do it… I was struck dumb by fear… until I spotted a smile spreading across his lips, "But that would be such a waste of a fine specimen such as yourself." He chuckled, brushing the backs of his fingers lightly against my cheek before resting his hands upon his lap.

"Don't make me regret sparing you, Crow." I glared, "I can easily change my mind."

Zevran looked mildly amused, "Now that I don't believe. In fact, I fear you may have grown… soft on me."

Within a flash of movement Zevran's back was firmly against the trunk, my dagger pressed against the soft flesh of his neck. "… Have I?"

Zevran chuckled again, looking up at me. "I would stand corrected, if it was not for the passion of which you moved in… I find myself in the most unlikely position to feel so… aroused."

"I will cut it off and feed it to Felix!" I hissed. My wardog would eat just about anything made of meat, yet this only made him chuckle more- it was infuriating!

"That has only made things worse… you are so accidentally sexy." He grinned, placing his warm palm upon my knee. I knew what he was doing… he was challenging me, to see if I would really kill him. My arm had frozen, as if locked into position. His palm crept ever-so-slowly up my thigh, his eyes burning into my own. I couldn't pull away… I couldn't push him away… couldn't sink my dagger into his throat. He massaged my thigh lightly, his fingers working their Antivan magic against me. His palm was so… warm.

I couldn't help it… seeing him with my dagger to his neck, completely at my mercy, yet he dared to slither his hand along my flesh. I, like Zevran, had found myself in the most unlikely situation to be aroused in. I saw the flicker of a grin as his hand moved over me, resting on my stomach for a moment. He was studying my face closely, watching my expression, watching for the slightest sign of disgust, anger, fear, or, god forbid, arousal. My features betrayed none of these feelings, but as Zevran's hand travelled downwards, something else did.

"Oh…" Zevran pawned against the hardening lump between my legs, "Now… that is interesting."

We locked gazes, my dagger at his throat and his hand on my manhood. He knew now… the secret I had kept hidden all my life. The true reason I did not want to get married back at the Alienage. Kept hidden through lies, deceit and pure bad luck… and Zevran had uncovered it simply by touching me.

His other hand slid up my dagger arm, gripping my wrist and easing my weapon away. The dagger fell from between my fingers and landed with a soft thump on the grass. His palm continued to rub my growing erection as he rose slowly, his eyes burning into mine. We both knelt, facing each other, my wrist in one hand and erection in his other.

"You… desire me, don't you?" he whispered, his accent dripping with his seductive charm. "I have seen it in your eyes… a desire for something… something strong, powerful… to wrap your legs around another man as fills you with himself… haven't you, my little Grey Warden?"

I couldn't stop myself. My eyes darted over to where Alistair stood, politely chatting with Wynne. None of them had even noticed we were gone. Zevran noticed, turning his head in the direction of my glance. "Is… he the one you desire?" he asked, turning to face me again, his eyes… unreadable.

I shook my head, "No…" I lied.

"Then… let me take you into my tent, Grey Warden. Let me ravish you. You will see the face of the Maker… when you are filled with me." He whispered, all the while his fingers left my wrist to caress my face, drifting softly over my lips.

"I-I…I…" I stammered in an attempt to protest. No… I couldn't… not Zevran. I wanted Alistair, I needed Alistair. I couldn't… I couldn't…

"Shall we… retire to bed, then?" He smirked.

"I…"

"You desire Alistair?"

"N-no!"
"Then why not, Grey Warden?"

Yeah… why not, Grey Warden?

Giving my love one last glance, I leaned down and pressed my lips against the assassins. They were firm, strong; they dominated my own as soon as they touched them. Hidden from sight by the oak, Zevran held me by the waist and pressed me down firmly against the trunk, his hands exploring and dominating my body as his lips did my own. I felt like a complete fool, with no idea where to put my hands or anything. Luckily Zevran was so experienced. His hands tangled in my hair, then moved my own to his long, blonde locks whilst he slid his fingers up and down the crook of my back.

When we were bored of kissing (by this time our party had long since retired to bed without wondering where we were), Zevran escorted me to his tent and laid me down upon the blankets.

It was exactly as Zevran had promised. I wrapped my legs around his strong form as he entered me, filling me completely with himself. I felt things I never thought possible… Zevran had to press his hand over my mouth to keep me from screaming in ecstasy. When it ended, he whispered my name… and we drifted into sleep, our bodies entwined.

I'm glad be stopped me from screaming… for it was not Zevran's name I would have screamed.

To be continued…