Zevran knows better than most what it is to be seen as less. He's spent most of his life being seen thus and even now? There are those that look at him in such a light. To reduce someone he enjoyed to a similar state was beyond impolite and not something he's ever willing to do. Especially when they've been as kind to him as Taas.

They say you always remember your first and hold some sentiment for them- Taas is the first of his kind, a warrior of his size and temperament, that Zevran has ever enjoyed. So perhaps there is a shred of deeper fondness he does not look at too deeply. It is better like this, the casual enjoyment- all the more so with the swipe of Taas' thumb over his mouth. He shapes the word easily, stopping to pull the pad of Taas' thumb between his lips to such on the salty warm skin there for a moment. A tinge of heat, the tang of something clean and almost metallic that he's never quite placed lingers on his tongue.

Here the muscles were harder, the tension knotted tighter- it takes a good deal of work with his elbows and a narrowed eye focus he normally reserves for winding his traps and placing them properly- but he sees it done. The tendons smoothed out, the knotted muscle worked into something looser, easier. "That is just about the shape of it."