"It is difficult to relax enough while on the run, but you are no longer hiding- or so the cover goes." Zevran murmurs, tugging Anders close enough to continue massaging the lather down his spine. When he smooths it down as far as the water might permit he rinses it carefully before he loops his arms around his waist and lean in properly. With their difference in height he can easily rest his cheek between Anders' shoulder blades for a moment and simply be, giving that extended contact that he's likely been aching for as much as Zevran had during his first few terrifying weeks of freedom after the blight.

He keeps his hands above Anders' hips- for the moment.

That may or may not change.

"Only the truly pretty ones that I am fond of." And he is- despite what Anders has done. He has no room to look at him and spit for the murder- it is not how he might have done it and he might not agree entirely with the logic behind such a move- but it is done. Nothing can be changed.