Once deposited on the bed Zevran was swift to remove his boots and whatever sheathes and blades he had on his person (seven), so that he might better indulge in every luscious inch of Michel's fine figure without fear of cutting him. They were not quite that far into Michel's kinky education- nor did he think they would ever arrive at that particular destination. Sensations were sensual but pain? Took a particular sort and adds a weight to the interaction neither of them were seeking in this.
Michel wished for a pleasing diversion and Zevran? Was happy to give it.
"Every inch of you, Bello. Coated in oil and rubbed with leather." How fortunate that he'd long since cleaned his gloves and placed them near the bed. He made a show of pulling them on, flexing his fingers in the richly dyed casing. Antivan Leather- nothing in all of Thedas was near so supple, so soft, so fine. Both hands covered he reached out to take Michel's hands and, just as the last they'd bedded one another, set them upon his leather clad thighs for something to grip. This time, however, he added a subtle order, a suggestion. "Do not move them."
Whether or not Michel's pride would allow it to take- he could not say. But he made the suggestion all the same before he dragged his fingers up the backs of Michel's arms, squeezing his shoulders, one slipping up to rake through his hair and the other sliding forward to cradle his jaw and tip his head up. Voice dripping with promise he said, "I mean to make you feel a royal mess long before I am through."
He kept one hand on Michel's jaw to keep their eyes locked and the other? Slipped from his hair to rest against his throat- not an ounce of pressure was applied that Michel did not put there himself- but it was a reminder. Zevran was dangerous, an assassin, and here? He would not come to harm for which he did not request. Throat to chest Zevran once again teased and pinched at Michel's bare nipples, leather clad fingers circling round and round before ever enclosing the sensitive nub and tugging.
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Date: 2016-01-10 09:31 am (UTC)Michel wished for a pleasing diversion and Zevran? Was happy to give it.
"Every inch of you, Bello. Coated in oil and rubbed with leather." How fortunate that he'd long since cleaned his gloves and placed them near the bed. He made a show of pulling them on, flexing his fingers in the richly dyed casing. Antivan Leather- nothing in all of Thedas was near so supple, so soft, so fine. Both hands covered he reached out to take Michel's hands and, just as the last they'd bedded one another, set them upon his leather clad thighs for something to grip. This time, however, he added a subtle order, a suggestion. "Do not move them."
Whether or not Michel's pride would allow it to take- he could not say. But he made the suggestion all the same before he dragged his fingers up the backs of Michel's arms, squeezing his shoulders, one slipping up to rake through his hair and the other sliding forward to cradle his jaw and tip his head up. Voice dripping with promise he said, "I mean to make you feel a royal mess long before I am through."
He kept one hand on Michel's jaw to keep their eyes locked and the other? Slipped from his hair to rest against his throat- not an ounce of pressure was applied that Michel did not put there himself- but it was a reminder. Zevran was dangerous, an assassin, and here? He would not come to harm for which he did not request. Throat to chest Zevran once again teased and pinched at Michel's bare nipples, leather clad fingers circling round and round before ever enclosing the sensitive nub and tugging.