â i don't care if someone sees us. i need you, now. â ( @kniight-errant đ)
Zevran will never get over just how cold it can get in Ferelden, especially in the evenings, but he hardly cares right now as Alistair pins him between his broad body and an alleyway wall.
âIf a little flirting with a stranger was all it took to get you to this state, perhaps I shouldâ ahââ
Alistair uses the strength in those biceps that Zevran is always admiring to lift him up, and heat floods south immediately as he wraps his legs around Alistairâs hips. Those hands hold him, grasp him, tug his clothing out of the way, and Zevran slithers his hands between their bodies, trusting Alistairâs strength and balance to keep him up off the ground as he unlaces the trousers beneath his heavy armor.
âOhâ That really did get you going, didnât it? You truly hated seeing me with him that much? Here, let meââ
Zevran grasps his cock once the laces are loose enough, and Alistair is hot, hard as a stone in his palm. With his free hand, he directs Alistairâs mouth toward his own, and he kisses him with tongue as he shifts his hips and guides that cock to where he is wet and needy for him. Two false starts, the head nudging and sliding against his folds, but then he finds purchase and sinks home, sheathed all the way inside.
Itâs good. It flushes him warm and achey in the best way, the stretch making his toes curl a little in his boots, and he gasps loudly against Alistairâs lips, squeezing his eyes closed.
âHold on, hold on,â he whispers, clamping his legs around Alistairâs hips. He lets himself adjust to the feeling for a second, just taking in the sensation of being full, stretched wide with no fingers to prepare him first, but he hardly needs it, when the slight ache and burn are so delightful. Finally he sighs and says, âOkay, okay, now,â and one hand clutches Alistairâs shoulder, another sinking into his short hair, as they start to move.
The bricks against his back are uncomfortable, the scrape of them painful against the back of his head especially as the rough texture catches his hair and pulls, but he canât even are. Not when Alistair takes him like heâs furious that anyone else got to touch him, like heâs laying claim to him. Zevran whines at a particularly rough thrust and grips him harder.
âYes,â he gasps, yanking him in as best he can with his legs. He has little control in this position, held against the wall with his legs splayed, but itâs so good, he isnât willing to sacrifice the pleasure of being immobile for the ability to control the pace. âYes, harder,â he whimpers, âhard, yes, like that.â
He just hopes Alistair doesnât come to his senses in the next few minutes about his volume, because stopping now may actually kill him. Under his gasps, the wet sounds and shuffle of clothes and skin could easily give them away to passersby. Zevran doesnât care. He grips onto him and moans encouragement into Alistairâs mouth to fuck him harder, to claim him. He wants to be so sore he has trouble walking after.
titsay
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