Alistair huffs a laugh that's all breath while his body bows, involuntary and a little jerky, and he scrambles to get a hand over Zevran's and hold it still against his best interest, or against his second-best interest after the interest he's currently pursuing—

"You can do anything you want to me," he says, meaning it, which is a testament to either his lack of imagination or his excess of trust, "but I want to touch you. I want to stop being nervous about it."

He's not too nervous. There isn't enough homophobia in Ferelden to hold him back, no doubt about what he wants, only the usual fear of anything new. He gives a flash of a smile, self-deprecating but shameless, but then it disappears and leaves nothing but sincerity.

"Please."