Into the Woods (a Dragon Age fanfiction)

Born to Be Wild

Most of the players had been knocked out of the impromptu Wicked Grace tournament by the time the stars shone in the heated sky above them. Anders had refused to play at all, opting instead to stand staring off into the forest deep in thought. Oghren had lost on the first hand. There was no subtlety in the dwarf at all. He hadn't appeared unhappy about losing, and he clearly felt better when Isabela also lost—presumably on purpose—and joined him in his tent with a bottle of rum. The sounds of bawdy sea chanties mixed with downright raunchy dwarven marching songs gave way to loud snores in Oghren's deep tones and surprising whistles in Isabela's slightly higher voice.

"Didn't know Rivaini was such a loud sleeper," Varric remarked, glancing at a card before placing it in his hand.

Zev chuckled. "Perhaps that is why she so rarely allows anyone to sleep with her."

"Good point." Varric laid a different card, one that hadn't been in his hand a moment ago, on the pile in front of him.

"Do you truly imagine he did not see that?" Fenris asked. He was pacing the perimeter of the camp, his markings pulsing nervously, occasionally pausing to watch part of the game.

"Of course he knows I saw it," Zev said. "Part of the game is lost if no one cheats." He captured Varric's card with one of his own, deftly palming a card from the discard pile as he did so, and cast a grin up at Fenris. "We cannot all have your remarkable forthrightness."

"Hmph." Fenris shook his head, disappearing into the shadows.

Zev watched Fenris move away, part of his mind on the elf's rather ridiculous walk and how it did not detract in the least from his enticements, the other part on the sounds of the jungle around them and where Leliana might have gone with her prizes. He managed to notice Varric taking his turn at the card game, however, and casually dropped another card on top of Varric's, winning the game.

"Double or nothing?" Varric asked, staring sourly at the cards as he dug into his pocket for his coin pouch.

"What would you say to betting with your clothing?"

"With all these bugs around? I'd say no."

"But if they were not?" Zev waited, not entirely aware that he was holding his breath. This dwarf in front of him was intriguing, infuriating, and apparently impervious to all attempts at seduction, even by such a skilled artisan as Zevran Arainai. He was rapidly progressing from being a mere challenge to being something Zev needed to possess ... and what was worse, from the smirk on that stubbled face, he knew it.

"Ask me then." Varric picked up the cards, shuffling them a few times before stowing them away.

"What will you say?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

In a swift, graceful movement, Zev was on the other side of the bare patch they had used as a card table, easing his slender body down next to Varric's, his lips close to the dwarf's ear. "I would, indeed. Would you say 'Please relieve me of this uncomfortable coat, Zevran?'"

"It ..." Varric's voice caught in his throat, and he cleared it before trying again. "It doesn't seem likely."

Zev's fingers toyed with the luxuriant growth of chest hair revealed by Varric's open shirt, finding it surprisingly soft to the touch. "Would you perform an erotic dance as you stripped for me?"

"Have you ever seen a dwarf do an erotic dance? It's not pretty." Varric shifted away, but Zev followed, leaning even farther over.

"Would you, later, write the tale of the dwarf and his elven lover and the pleasures they took?" His mouth was practically touching Varric's now, his breath floating across Varric's lips, which opened as if to swallow Zev's words. That was all the invitation Zev needed to close the small distance between them, to press his long body against Varric's and to capture the dwarf's mouth with his own.