Gavin was - as he only ever was in this particular sort of situation - incredibly focused. It was easy to be, with Zevran in his mouth, under his hands. Every brush of of Zevran's finger tips over his skin, every scrape of nail, went straight to his groin, and he groaned softly as he worked. He was careful not to move too fast. After all, he was getting very addictive to the incomprehensible but extremely erotic Antivan words slipping from Zevran's lips - every time he heard one he tried to remember the exact movement that had caused it. Eventually, however, he had to pull his head up, his eyes dark with need, his lips reddened and slightly swollen from the effort.

"Creators, you taste good," He said with a slight groan as he shifted, pressing closer and finding Zevran's throat with his lips. Perhaps he should have said something witty, but he was past wit - taking Zevran's cock in his hand, still slick from his spit, and stroking it in a meagre replacement for his mouth.