"Cazzo, vi sarà la morte di me." Whether it was from the earlier kiss that the lack of time, room, or desire to let the intensity fall away enough for him to scrabble for composure or simply the fact that it was Michel initiating this entire dalliance, Zevran could not hide his honest appreciation, his vulgar admiration. He sucked in a sharp breath. Then another, then another. They caught and tangled in his throat; spinning back out ragged pants. The slow drag, the damp heat of Michel's mouth rolled against him through the silk- the pressure coiled in his gut. The more damp his smalls, the more transparent the silk, the more apparent his tattoos. That held appeal for most but Michel?
Seemed to genuinely enjoy it- the texture, the taste.
What it did to Zevran to move his lips here and suck, to drag his tongue there and curl a sparking fire behind his eyes. Painfully hard he could feel every crease and wrinkle in his smalls rubbing against oversensitive skin- and he swore through it.
Then the humming- another trick of his and that was not fair, all the more so for the fact Michel honestly did not seem to know he was doing it. How could he not know? How could he be humming with genuine appreciation? And then he spoke and stole what was left of Zevran's breath, the last of his restraint. With a keening whine he let his head fall back while waiting for a firmer touch, cock dripping, primed for contact that was graciously given. No great skill, here, but Zevran did not need it. That Michel's eyes bored into him, that he could watch the plush, shining stretch of the Chevalier's lips, that he had said he wanted to remember? "Che, come quello, mantenere succhiare proprio così-"
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Date: 2016-02-25 12:33 pm (UTC)Seemed to genuinely enjoy it- the texture, the taste.
What it did to Zevran to move his lips here and suck, to drag his tongue there and curl a sparking fire behind his eyes. Painfully hard he could feel every crease and wrinkle in his smalls rubbing against oversensitive skin- and he swore through it.
Then the humming- another trick of his and that was not fair, all the more so for the fact Michel honestly did not seem to know he was doing it. How could he not know? How could he be humming with genuine appreciation? And then he spoke and stole what was left of Zevran's breath, the last of his restraint. With a keening whine he let his head fall back while waiting for a firmer touch, cock dripping, primed for contact that was graciously given. No great skill, here, but Zevran did not need it. That Michel's eyes bored into him, that he could watch the plush, shining stretch of the Chevalier's lips, that he had said he wanted to remember? "Che, come quello, mantenere succhiare proprio così-"