Anders exhales, legs spreading reflexively at Zevran's voice and words.

"I'm flushed by the time you're done, watching you drink me in and trying to follow you hand with my hips... to no avail. That doesn't make me enjoy the pose any less, and I'm shameless in the way I lounge on display, shameless and wanting. I murmur your name before saying it again, louder. Zevran," there's yearning in his voice, "Zevran, touch me again, I ask, even when I know it won't happen, not yet, not until you've the image you want and that I want you to view and think about often."

He's definitely getting noticeably hard now; the thought of simply being looked at, watched, enjoyed like that, I'd a powerful one.