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“Shh,” he murmured. “There you go. Relax for me, Brosca.” He pushed in another inch and she tensed around him. “Breathe.”
She inhaled, letting it all wash over her. It was good.
“There.” Zevran stroked her face, pushing deeper. So reassuring, and she didn’t hate it.
How had she ended up here? How had she ended up wanting this, so badly that her arms trembled? She took a shaky breath, wrapping her legs around his thighs and tugging him towards her. The buzz of the tension and friction was nearly overwhelming, a knife about to break.
“How does it feel?” Zevran breathed. His eyes were nearly hazed over. She liked looking up at him like this. She wiggled her hips.
“I don’t really have words. It’s good. I want more.”
“Then let me take the rest of those words away.” Before she could roll her eyes, he plunged the rest of the way in then withdrew, one smooth movement. She grinned even as she gasped, scrabbling for a hold on his shoulders.
“More.”
He smiled, leaning down to cover her body with his.
Brosca had never been interested in sex. Well, she’d been interested , in the sense that she was interested in how grenades were made and if Leske would ever get a girl to like him. But she’d never wanted it. It was fun to joke about, to rib back and forth with, but sex was low on her list of concerns, and she’d never taken the time to try.
She seemed the near antithesis to Zevran in that way, but they were friends, trading stories, sharing tricks, sparring at the edge of camp at night. As she and he had grown closer, she’d thought about it now and then, purely out of curiosity. All his jokes held more promise and sincerity than her back and forths with Leske. He had a certain earnestness and near-chivalry for someone with his hands in so many pots. He knew what he was about, and she didn’t doubt that he was good. One night he’d offered, clear and unjoking as they’d sat by the fire. She had frowned slightly.
“I'm not sure,” she said.
“No pressure at all. It’s merely an offer.”
She took him up on it four nights later, having thought it through just enough to know that of all the new experiences she’d had in the past month, even if she hated it it wouldn’t reach the top ten most unpleasant. She knocked at the flap of his tent soundlessly. He let her in, eyebrow raised.
“I’ve never done this,” she told him, straight to business. “But don’t treat me like I’m fragile. I’ll elbow you in the gut.”
He laughed.
“Come in. Have some wine, but only a little. We’re only doing this if you want it and you’re lucid.”
He’d handed her the glass and she’d thrown it back like a shot.
“We’re going to take this much more slowly than you took that.”
He’d made her come twice—already something she’d never tried, new and bright and a little thrilling. He played her body with expertise, fingers then mouth on her clit, neat trails of kisses and bite marks down her chest. She’d gasped as she came, nearly crying out the second time, hands knotted in his bedroll and lip pinned between her teeth to keep herself from making a sound.
“It’s a shame,” he said, lips glistening when he returned to view, resting his head on her hip. “I’d love to hear you sing. But I won’t press that with Leliana next door.”
The words did it for her, spread a buzz through her body that left her wanting more even as she still caught her breath. When he pushed two fingers inside of her, though, she’d tensed.
“Do you want this?” he asked. His voice low, sincere, but also wanting .
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Does it hurt?”
“ No.”
“Good.” His fingers had curled against a spot she hadn’t known existed and she folded forward, hips twitching.
“ Good,” she echoed. “Fuck. You’re good.”
He laughed and kissed her before he did it again, pulling a little gasp from her lips that didn’t quite sound like her. She wasn’t sure if she liked the kissing, but his tongue traced tantalizing patterns over her lips and she decided not to protest. The tickle was nice.
The feeling between her legs, though, wasn’t a tickle, it was more and more all-consuming and hot, full. His fingers thrust into her, and it was good. She wasn’t satisfied.
“Want you,” she panted, pulling back from his lips. She motioned to his pants, too distracted by his stroking to elaborate.
“All of me?” he asked.
“Please.”
He grinned.
“I’m not certain I’ve ever heard you say that word.”
She batted at him with one hand, but he’d already moved out of reach, two fingers still inside, undressing for the first time that night with one hand. He was lean and wiry, skin crossed here and there with thin scars. He was odd to her, almost beautiful. She watched as he stripped. His cock was hard against his stomach, a bead of moisture at its tip. He’d kept such careful control she’d almost forgotten about it. She didn’t quite feel guilty. If he asked, she’d give. He slipped a third finger into her before he aligned their bodies, scissoring slightly until the stretch became effortless. Maybe it would be harder to take him than a dwarf. Not by much. She was built to endure, and he’d made her loose and free beneath him, warm from the pleasure, dripping for more. Still, she tensed when she felt him pushing, an involuntary reaction, but clear enough that he noticed.
“Do you want this?” he asked again, rubbing her hip.
“Yes,” she assured him. “But go slow. Don’t force. I can take it, but…slowly.”
“Mm, I don’t want you to take it. I want you to enjoy it.”
She wiggled her hips.
“I’ll enjoy it a lot more if you do it. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want this, Zevran.”
“You make a good point.” He reached down to tweak her nipple, almost lackadaisical. She arched into the touch—the nipples she had liked.
“There you go,” he said, and he began to push.
Her body opened for him easily, even as she tightened and forced herself to relax in increments. It was heady, almost a little hard to breathe, but he went slowly, murmuring praises and promises of what was to come. She closed her eyes and felt . It was marvelous, maybe revolutionary. She tried her best to think of big words to describe it, but he thumbed her clit and they all left her head.
She whimpered with the next inch, the sound betraying her. There wasn’t pain, more shock. Good, but overpowering.
“Shh,” he murmured, and she kind of wanted to hit him, but his tone wasn’t patronizing. Those words. She liked them. She closed her eyes. “There you go,” he said. “Relax for me, Brosca. Breathe in.”
He thumbed her clit again. The way she tightened this time was good—the squeeze and the friction ricocheting through her like a lightning bolt of pleasure. Suddenly, she wanted him to move. Zevran stroked her face, pushing forward another inch. He was almost fully seated and she felt somewhere slightly left of the material plane, somewhere populated only by her and Zevran and this feeling, staggering.
“ There you go,” Zevran repeated, sounding brighter now. “How does it feel?”
She wiggled her hips. The feeling shot higher.
“There aren’t really words. Good. I want more.”
“Then let me take the rest of those words away.”
The pace he set wasn’t quite slow and wasn’t quite fast. It was full, dragging in and out, and she felt every inch of him. She found herself rocking her hips against him, not quite rhythmically—she couldn’t manage that and keep her hold on reality and her voice.
“Mmph,” she said, though, when the angle changed. “Fuck that’s good.”
“Touch yourself,” he told her. He reached for her hand, not tugging, but lightly stroking the tips of her fingers. “I want to feel you come around me. Tight. Ah—“ He swore in a language Brosca didn’t understand as she clenched around him on purpose. She pushed her hand down between them, fumbling for her clit as he continued to thrust.
No part of her held doubts, only pleasure in a near-itch, clawing its way back upwards toward a peak. His breathing was heavy now, sharp pants as his hips snapped against her with more force. He pushed her hand away, replacing it with his own, and she nearly snarled when he interrupted her rhythm. He built her back up though, fingers steady and quick
“Where do I come?” he gasped. She had to think it through.
“Um. Chest,” she decided, hoping he had a cloth. He groaned, a satisfied sound. He pressed harder on her clit, snapping her out of her head and back to the moment. She could feel her pulse beneath his finger, rapid and pounding. Her walls spasmed around him and they both groaned.
“I’m close,” he told her, sounding strained. “Can you come, Brosca? One more?”
She knew she could. She was at the edge, only needed a push. She shoved his hand aside, replacing it with her own.
“Oh,” she gasped as he pressed down on her pelvis with one hand. “Fuck.”
“That’s it,” Zevran said. “Come on, Brosca.”
That did it for her—she broke, but that was a stupid word for it. She flew, high above the clouds, to the endless stupid sky. He gasped, pulling out, and she groaned, still wanting. He came across her chest—the feeling wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t not. It didn’t matter; she was still elsewhere, shaking, ecstatic, a little high. He hovered over her as she came back to herself. He was panting too, his hands framing her head.
“Fuck,” he said. She cleared her throat. He laughed. “So, my friend, did you like it?”
“I’d do it again.” Her voice didn’t have the casual lilt she’d intended. She was still too shaken, aftershocks teasing out little shivers. He bent to her chest, licking a ticklish stripe from her bellybutton to her collarbone. She squirmed and he did it again before she pushed him away, laughing. He rolled off of her, finding her a cloth to wipe down with. She stretched her arms above her head.
“Do I have to go back to my tent?” she asked with a yawn.
“I’d never put a lady out in the cold,” he teased.
“Not quite a lady,” she said.
“Oh, nonsense.” He nudged her over and straightened out the bedroll, untying it so that there was room for them both to stretch. She felt bone tired in the good way, satisfied—both physically and…intellectually. She’d fulfilled a curiosity. She’d happily do it again, no strings attached. She felt she probably owed him in the abstract sense. They were three to one as far as orgasms went.
“Goodnight,” she said for now, closing her eyes and rolling over so they lay back to back.
“Yes,” he said. “I’ll see you bright and early.”
She groaned, but it was half-hearted. Maybe it would be a little easier to face the day with this tension so well-spent.