Dragon Age: The Heart Changes the Man

The Heart Changes the Man

Zevran let out a satisfied groan and pulled Sylvanas' body closer to his own, delighting in the feel of her skin against his as he tangled his fingers in her long, loose curls. He shivered a bit at the sensation of her delicate, slightly calloused hands tentatively running over his chest.

"Cara, you need not be so nervous, anymore," he purred, learning over to gently bite her ear before flicking his tongue against the side of her neck. She drew in a sharp gasp, and he repeated the action, savoring the taste of their combined sweat.

"How are you feeling, by the way?" he asked, pulling back and brushing her hair away from her face in order to look into her green eyes which so reminded him of the leaves of the trees in Antiva City during the summer. "I did not hurt you, I hope?"

"No, I... I'm fine," she assured him, a blush rivaling the color of her deep mahogany hair rising in her cheeks as she fixed her eyes upon his chest once more.

"Then what is troubling you?" Zevran wondered, tracing her spine with one hand and molding her body against his. He still found the fact that she was such a marvelous fit against him an absolute wonder. Maker, but he doubted he would ever get enough of having this little Dalish vixen in his bed.

"It's nothing," Sylvanas told him, tucking her head under his chin and tightening her arms around his waist.

"My dear Warden, you must learn to lie better if you ever wish to be a successful assassin," Zevran admonished her, chuckling a bit. "I can tell you are not being honest simply by the tone of your voice."

"I was just... wondering something, that's all," she admitted, snuggling closer to him, her grip tightening on him even more. It was almost as though she was afraid he might blow away into the night if she didn't keep him firmly in her grasp.

"Cara, talk to me. Please," Zevran requested, tucking his hand under her chin and tilting her head upward so she would look at him. He stared at her expectantly, but she kept her eyes closed. After a moment, she took a shaky breath and spoke.

"What now?" she asked him, her voice barely more than a whisper, and Zevran was taken aback when she finally opened her eyes and he saw tears shimmering in them.

"Now?" he echoed, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. "Well, I was raised to take my pleasures where they could be found. I shall ask no more of you than you are willing to give."

"And... what about... love?"

Zevran suddenly pulled away from her and sat up, no longer able to look into her eyes. She slowly pulled herself into a sitting position next to him, and he could tell from her shallow, hiccuping breaths that she was doing everything in her power to keep from crying.

"I was born of a whore and bred an assassin," he told her, keeping his face turned away from her, each word coming out with a bitter edge to it. "All I know is of pleasure and death. What room is there in these things for love?"

"Zevran," she said his name, gently grasping his shoulder and trying to get him to look at her once more.