After being dismissed from his position, though it was really a given rather than a formal dismissal, Michel found his perceptions had been altered quite a bit. Traveling with Empress Celene. witnessing her relationship, Felassan's dubious influence in perhaps that he had been right about some things, and giving into temptations he knew he had no right to. It changed everything. it changed him...perhaps not in his own ideologies as a Chevalier, but in the things he wanted as a man and a person. Things that the world he knew would strike him down for or attempt to wrest from him.
Beautiful, physically strong in his own right, and he'd not judged Michel in spite of the man's position...he was an Orlesian, he was a Chevalier, he had the privileges of nobility in spite of his origins. Most would frown upon such things, the fact that Zevran did not and...interestingly enough initiated contact between them in spite of this knowledge seized his attention so completely.
Nudging the fabric of Zevran's pants out of the way he nosed himself against the mound laboring underneath smallclothes and he rather found the kind worn in this part of the world rather attractive. Whether Zevran noticed it or not, Michel tried to watch him discreetly, but his companion was devastating in his smallclothes alone. Leather was attractive and very well suited to the elf, but if he could have the man in any way it would have to be stripped down to that little slip of a garment. Admiring only for a moment, Michel's lips covered the already wet front of the material, head tipped to the side slightly so that he could suck along the rigid length. He wanted to fix it into his memory, the way Zevran's hips rolled into the heat of his mouth, the way he tasted even through the fabric, the scent...leather and a musk that was distinctly his own, whatever soaps and oils he used on his body.
"Mmm?" he hummed gently, the sound vibrating from his lips as he tipped his head back to look at his companion, "you smell and taste good...I want to remember..."
But he could be more direct if Zevran so wished it, granted at the moment his mobility was limited, he relied on rooting against eh final barrier just enough to relieve the elf of his tight confines before eagerly resuming. He had no experience in this, only memories and a drive to make the assassin feel as good as Michel had felt. He rolled his tongue against the flushed apex before slowly drawing Zevran into his mouth. He was careful to gauge what he could fit given his lack of expertise and not wanting to involve his teeth in any way. Comfortable with the swollen head and a fair bit more he hollowed his cheeks, sucking him slowly, rhythmically as his eyes remained fixed on Zevran for signs of...anything.
no subject
Beautiful, physically strong in his own right, and he'd not judged Michel in spite of the man's position...he was an Orlesian, he was a Chevalier, he had the privileges of nobility in spite of his origins. Most would frown upon such things, the fact that Zevran did not and...interestingly enough initiated contact between them in spite of this knowledge seized his attention so completely.
Nudging the fabric of Zevran's pants out of the way he nosed himself against the mound laboring underneath smallclothes and he rather found the kind worn in this part of the world rather attractive. Whether Zevran noticed it or not, Michel tried to watch him discreetly, but his companion was devastating in his smallclothes alone. Leather was attractive and very well suited to the elf, but if he could have the man in any way it would have to be stripped down to that little slip of a garment. Admiring only for a moment, Michel's lips covered the already wet front of the material, head tipped to the side slightly so that he could suck along the rigid length. He wanted to fix it into his memory, the way Zevran's hips rolled into the heat of his mouth, the way he tasted even through the fabric, the scent...leather and a musk that was distinctly his own, whatever soaps and oils he used on his body.
"Mmm?" he hummed gently, the sound vibrating from his lips as he tipped his head back to look at his companion, "you smell and taste good...I want to remember..."
But he could be more direct if Zevran so wished it, granted at the moment his mobility was limited, he relied on rooting against eh final barrier just enough to relieve the elf of his tight confines before eagerly resuming. He had no experience in this, only memories and a drive to make the assassin feel as good as Michel had felt. He rolled his tongue against the flushed apex before slowly drawing Zevran into his mouth. He was careful to gauge what he could fit given his lack of expertise and not wanting to involve his teeth in any way. Comfortable with the swollen head and a fair bit more he hollowed his cheeks, sucking him slowly, rhythmically as his eyes remained fixed on Zevran for signs of...anything.