Michel lifted both hands to the ones settled on the base of his neck and and simply held them there for a moment before dropping them to Zevran's waist. If the Chevalier experienced fear it was very little, even in knowing what the other man was and what he could do. For Michel, Zevran was a forbidden thing in more ways than one, his status in the realm of killing only added to that list. It was a passing thought that he would always keep to himself as there currently didn't seem to be a need to talk about the history of his disgrace, which was a long, involved, and ultimately boring process. It was something he liked to tell those who were curious anyway, a means of deflecting the question.

"How fortunate...for your partners..." Michel murmured against Zevran's lips between kisses. His breathing slowly transforming from something steady and controlled to uneven and shallow, gradually, as Zevran's touch turned to something more intimate, nipples peaking easily under the manipulation of thumbs. He tasked himself with kissing the elf feverishly and holding him steadily in place before his companion finally withdrew to take up a spot between his legs.

Michel recalled the last time Zevran found himself in that particular position and it brought vague recollections to his memory of the sounds he made and the way his body moved. It put a knot in the pit of his stomach as he forced himself not to remember, it wasn't an unpleasant, but dwelling on it right now? He knew if he allowed himself he wouldn't be able to maintain his self control, his body had changed under Zevran's attentions the last time and a part of him wondered at the careful pains the assassin went through to wind him up.