I have no chance with this week's awesome contest entries, but here's mine. Just under an hour.
--------
Watching strong, slender, golden-skinned hands slide across the darker flesh under flickering firelight is captivating, and he finds himself watching silent, rapt. There is such intent in those amber eyes, a gentle smile just curling the edges of Zevran's lips as if this is some secret pleasure. His fingertips trace the hard lines and curves, finding each edge and crease with a gentle caress before a firm touch. He knows these motions not simply by muscle memory but by heart, and watching him is like watching Leliana when she has found some snatch of song to hum, some tune as yet unknown to the world and wholly her own and probably lost before the day is out, the concentration and the ecstasy and the wholehearted enjoyment there. He can smell it over the fire, too, and understands Zevran's obsession with that, at least: masculine, almost musky but just a little too clean, hanging in the cool autumn night.
Zevran kneads the oil in lovingly, working it into the dark skin and the soft, worn joints, and watching him is hypnotic,
erotic—Cadryn finds himself wondering what it would be like to receive that same sort of delicate attention and thoughtful care. For a moment, he's
jealous. The others are asleep in their tents, and Cadryn is glad this moment is his alone, that no one is there to see him catch a deep lungful of that scent, or how intently he's watching Zevran work and the firelight across his skin, the fine muscles of his hands making subtle shifts in the shadows as they move.
“I'm beginning to worry, Zev, that if I weren't watching you'd be making love to that armor.”
“But it is such a fine set you have bought me, my friend.” The smile quirks his lips up a little further, and maybe it is a trick of the light but Cadryn thinks he sees a little color rising in Zevran's cheeks. “Perhaps, however, you see how very skilled I am with my hands, and it is time I showed you some of those massage techniques I have picked up, hm?”
“If it's half what you're doing to that armor,” Cadryn makes a little gesture toward the cuirass laid out in front of Zevran, never taking his hands off the book laid out across his lap, “I don't think I'd survive the experience.” And for a moment Cadryn wonders if he
means it, if the comment is an offer and not out of gratitude or simple teasing.
For a moment Zevran's attention turns to him, giving an obvious look up and down Cadryn's body, smile approving and hungry. Then he goes back to caressing and kneading the armor, still making a show of it, but now the smile on his face is satisfied.
Modifié par Tellervo, 25 août 2010 - 11:33 .
So, I'm not interested.
Retour en haut
Sandor going after him, flipping the middle finger to Vigil's Keep, Amaranthine and the Architect in the process. And at that point I just throw everything out the window in terms of the endings provided, post-Origins. (We stayed in Denerim, for a time and then we went and did other stuff...)
)
A-am I the only one hoping for a sequel/epilogue now?? *bricked*
