"I know, I have seen you cry." He may have, at one point or another, made Alistair cry. He shouldn't have- but sometimes the man earns it or Zevran is mean when he ought to be calm. It will never be perfect, mindless bliss with them. And for that he is quite grateful. They are of two minds about too many things for this to be perfect but it does not need to be perfect.

It simply needs to be.

"What are you-" Legs up and he tucks himself against Alistair's chest with a soft laugh, moving to mantle himself over Alistair once they land. "Mmm...Perhaps-"

And then, oh, the line of his throat is there and he has leave to touch it. Without a second's hesitation Zevran leans forward to kiss the soft skin under his ear, to drag his lips down to the fluttering skin where his pulse is closes to the surface- the angular jut of his adam's apple- all these little places he's touched or licked or bitten on other lovers that now hold that much more wonder simply because they are his.