They hadn't had the time, when he'd last been in Kirkwall. There had been crows and mercenaries, slavers and templars and...Marion. A fine woman that had a man's eye and Zevran knew when to roll dice and when to not. Tumbling into bed with the Champion and Isabela had been more than enough for him; though he would be lying to say Anders hadn't caught his eye at the time.

But he knows better than to be greedy. Knows what it is to deny himself something for the sake of sanity or safety. Anders? Has been aching quietly on his own for too long.

He pulls Anders in slowly, sweetly, inviting every slow twist and press of his mouth- every inch of him on offer without reservation.