"Soleil?" He's never been half so tense before and Zevran knew he could help him relax. Began to take steps to see it so, hands slipping up to stroke his chest, leaning up on his toes to nose at the hair at the nape of his neck. Pull him back, pull him into bed and leave him sated and satisfied while he left for Antiva.
That was the plan.
It was not the best plan but it was better than listening-
Had Michel only said 'please' he would have been able to do so. But a no? Zevran could not ignore that. His hands slipped back to where they'd been about Michel's waist, holding him instead of teasing him. He would hear this, then. Whatever this was.
"What other way is there to put it-" Oh. Oh.
That way.
One word from someone that knew, or was supposed to know, what it meant. One word with weight and it echoed in the back of his mind that he was a Chevalier, he could not understand, he'd never see him as an equal, what he'd done-
Alistair insisting that it was not a good match. Sabine's vehemence. Anders' quiet scorn. Beleth's threat. A game, he'd said, when speaking to Anders.
A novelty.
Cold and weary and terrified in no small way, Zevran withdrew. Returned to the brandy, the glass, and poured himself another measure. "I can understand the confusion, truly- but you do not."
A game, a mask, that was what Michel was infatuated with. "This is all very new and different for you and the feelings involved can be quite intense, this I know. It is a simple thing to confuse them for sentiment."
no subject
That was the plan.
It was not the best plan but it was better than listening-
Had Michel only said 'please' he would have been able to do so. But a no? Zevran could not ignore that. His hands slipped back to where they'd been about Michel's waist, holding him instead of teasing him. He would hear this, then. Whatever this was.
"What other way is there to put it-" Oh. Oh.
That way.
One word from someone that knew, or was supposed to know, what it meant. One word with weight and it echoed in the back of his mind that he was a Chevalier, he could not understand, he'd never see him as an equal, what he'd done-
Alistair insisting that it was not a good match. Sabine's vehemence. Anders' quiet scorn. Beleth's threat. A game, he'd said, when speaking to Anders.
A novelty.
Cold and weary and terrified in no small way, Zevran withdrew. Returned to the brandy, the glass, and poured himself another measure. "I can understand the confusion, truly- but you do not."
A game, a mask, that was what Michel was infatuated with. "This is all very new and different for you and the feelings involved can be quite intense, this I know. It is a simple thing to confuse them for sentiment."