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A Hot Respite

Summary:

Lyna and Zevran enjoy a sexy summer night in Rivain, while resting on their search for a mysterious shop and a cure for the Calling.

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Legs wrapped around her hips from behind, Zevran works his thumbs over Lyna’s shoulders, while she leans forward beneath his gentle, steady attention. They’ve had a long week, travelling through the humid, hot parts of Rivain, making inquiries and following cold trails to colder ends.

No one can tell them exactly where the entrance to the secret magical shop is, just where it should be.

They took this contract to keep themselves fed, but he’s starting to think it might be pointless. In the small bed that fills almost half of the clean but cramped room they’re renting, a room which might be better called a closet, they’re taking a sunset respite.

“Mmm, lower,” she says breathy, as he kneads firm muscle under soft skin which has as many scars as smooth places.

“I’m getting there, my love. Be patient.” He smiles slightly.

She hasn’t started making those delicious sounds a good full-body massage can draw out of her, yet, but he’s making headway. She’s still tense, and he works his way down slowly, stroking her skin as he goes, not teasing or tickling, not yet, just even pressure, keeping his tongue still while he waits for her to say whatever it is troubling her mind.

“Do you think we should go back? Ahhh...that’s good, keep doing that.” She tries to look at him over her shoulder and he kisses her ear and then her cheek, and gently rolls his hands over the swoop of her lovely but vulnerable back, easing his thumbs along her spine as requested.

“Where to, my sweet?” He’ll not say there’s no returning to what either of them had thought of as home, though they both know it to be true.

Her Dalish clan has gone across the sea, and there’s a long list of people to kill before he can even think of spending more than a few days in Antiva. Perhaps she simply wants to go somewhere people recognize her as a hero, again. Vigil’s Keep is so dreary—but they could make good use of the bed there and would never miss a meal, if nothing else. Wherever she wishes to lead, he’ll follow.

“I don’t know. Maybe I just miss the smell of dogs.” Her mabari, too old to take on long jaunts, is currently helping to repopulate the kennels in Denerim. Not the worst way to retire, and Zevran misses the slobbery mutt sometimes, too.

“We should keep looking, I think. You said it yourself, two birds with one stone. If this secret shop has some clue where to look for your cure, we should try and find it.” Zevran wants nothing more than to keep her healthy and whole and in his arms. They might still have years together, but there’s no way to know for certain when the Calling will take her.

Lyna sighs, as if relieved at his advice. “You’re right. I’m sorry to be so gloomy. I think the heat is getting to me.”

He can feel it as her body relaxes a little, and the places near her shoulder blades he’d rubbed small circles into thoroughly, loosen up even more. He leans down and kisses her neck, accepting the apology, not that it was needed.

“Understandable. Rivain is best experienced frolicking on one of its sunny beaches with very little clothing on—not cooped up in a tiny hostel closet with very little clothing on. Though I like doing this no matter where you take us.” He grins and can feel her ribs shake with a chuckle. If it hadn’t been raining when they arrived they likely would have just used the tent again.

“I’d like to learn more about this frolicking you speak of.”

He’s kneading Lyna’s back with his knuckles, making her voice waver, and she gives him the most delectable moan. Trying to keep a nice rhythm in his motions and not get distracted by his own arousal, he recites what he can remember from the few such outings he’s witnessed—and the one he participated in right before killing an unsuspecting mark at a small festival.

“First you build a great fire on the beach, then strip off your clothes and dance around the fire, sharing great quantities of alcohol and having sex. Later you’ll bring out fish and clams and oysters you caught earlier in the day, and bury them in a pit with rocks heated in the fire to bake them. After an hour or so it’s all cooked and you dig it all up to eat. It’s a very enjoyable experience with the right group.”

She’s loosened up significantly by the time he starts on her lower back, and he’s not too surprised when she decides to flop forward onto the pillow without warning. Zevran moves with her, so she can stretch her lovely legs out. Cozy and relaxed on the narrow mattress, he spoons up behind her, still smoothing his hand over her skin, if not as focused as before.

“Sounds like something my clan used to do with potatoes and fish, but with less sex and alcohol.” Her voice is muffled due to her face being half pressed into the pillow.

He chuckles, nosing at her neck to plant small kisses there. “The Dalish are not known for their wild parties. More is the pity, no?”

“I think I know how to have a good time,” Lyna says, twisting so she can look at him. She’s wearing a languid, suggestive smile, and grinds her rear against his rigid cock. “Though I’d rather you show me.”

Catching her lips in what becomes a searing kiss, while they divest quickly of what little cloth separates them, he most certainly does.

Zevran wraps himself around her, and she pushes back harder into his embrace. Seldom has he felt her so desirous—not since those first desperate aching nights during the Blight. Lyna guides his hardness into the sopping wet cleft between her legs to take her from behind, and he obliges, hilting himself in her with little effort. Truly, with her like this, he doesn’t want or need another home.

“Are we going fast or slow, tonight, my love?” He’s nibbling her shoulder, leaving little indents, and making her gasp already with soft finger strokes to her clit. Getting her off won’t take much, but he can stretch this out as long as she wants.

“You just want to hear me say it.” She moves against him enough to make him shudder and he’s got to fight the urge to retaliate. It would be so easy to tip them both over the edge too soon, and she knows he likes to take his time when possible.

“It would give me great pleasure, yes.”

“As slow as you can bear it. Whoever snaps first has to go get breakfast tomorrow.” She’s grinning as she pants beneath slow strokes from front and back.

“Always with a catch.” He gives her a love bite to the neck for that, and works his way up to her delicate ear. The ecstatic sound she makes, paired with the tensing of her body nearly does him in again, and she knows it from the pleased little hum that follows from her throat.

Determined, he keeps his movements leisurely, unhurried, but firm as if he were continuing her earlier massage. For a time she seems content to just feel him moving inside her. It’s a gradual build, and for once, she’s not the one who starts their inevitable ascent—though once his movements become sharper she’s already matching him in pushing back.

Her cries and her panting blend with his own, and he’s not truly certain which of them finishes first. Not that it matters in this particular moment of bliss. They’re still together, riding a feeling which carries them both into a state of boneless satisfaction.

When sleep comes, they’re a sweaty, tight-locked tangle, and he’s idly considering what he’ll bring her in the morning if she ever lets him go.