"You can tell me that after you witness more of it," Gavin quipped back easily, before letting himself really enjoy it, tracing every line, every thorn, and every vein - before simply sliding warm lips down the entirety of Zevran's cock, his cheeks hollowing as he moved. The scars were more surprising in their original invisibility than they were in their actual form - he ran his hands up Zevran's thighs and let his thumb trace the raised skin of a particularly long one. Zevran had obviously gone to a lot of trouble, but Gavin almost wished to be able to see them individually and clearly, to be able to press his lips to each and taste the moments that had made them.

(If only, perhaps, to ease them away. Because anyone with that many scars had the memories to go with them, though he would never say that out loud.)

His own scars were very apparent, if far fewer and different in origin. He had a long jagged one on his right shoulder blade from the only time he had fainted in a tree. His keeper could have healed it, probably, but he kept it. That day needed a memorial, anyway.

He chased the thoughts away with a twirl of his tongue, with a low groan as his head began to bob in Zevran's lap.