"I find that difficult to imagine...but it truly is their loss," his touch was gorgeous and it was hard to imagine anyone not finding pleasure in the intimate kind of attention only a massage could provide. Though perhaps this level of pure contentment was only attainable through a comparable attraction. Zevran was a force of nature on his own, he didn't need to be coercive or blatantly aggressive, his subtlety and sensuality was enough to seduce anyone except for the overtly prejudice...and even then a little honey could break the proudest spirit. Michel wasn't terribly moved by pride, but it was certainly easy to find himself in pieces under those skillful touches, hands kneading and working at his body. His own need to touch in return was coupled with a singular desire to convey how good his body was feeling without needing to say it. He was so used to speaking with body language.
"You...may have to show me how to do this...sometime..." it would certainly be nice to return the favor, wondering idly how often Zevran was treated to something so pleasant in return. It was certainly a work of art in motion the way he seemed to find the tension and gently untangle it from his body. He allows one of his hands to be caught while the other busily smooths it's way from Zevran's arm to his lower back, petting along his spine. He didn't think that having his hand massaged could feel nearly so pleasant as this, but it was often something he never paid attention to. A warrior's hands were for wielding a sword, holding a shield, pounding out dents in armor. There was nothing sensual about it, tools and nothing more. Watching Zevran worship a tool that was rather essential to him sent a rush of heat through the Chevalier's body that was entirely unexpected. His fingers curled slightly, toying with loose strands of hair, marveling at the assassin's face as lips, teeth, and tongue work against his wrist.
The way he watched his companion now spoke volumes of his want, the want for those lips to be on his, the want for that smaller body to be wrapped around him, breathless kissing, and those leather clad hands everywhere.
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Date: 2016-01-23 03:10 am (UTC)"You...may have to show me how to do this...sometime..." it would certainly be nice to return the favor, wondering idly how often Zevran was treated to something so pleasant in return. It was certainly a work of art in motion the way he seemed to find the tension and gently untangle it from his body. He allows one of his hands to be caught while the other busily smooths it's way from Zevran's arm to his lower back, petting along his spine. He didn't think that having his hand massaged could feel nearly so pleasant as this, but it was often something he never paid attention to. A warrior's hands were for wielding a sword, holding a shield, pounding out dents in armor. There was nothing sensual about it, tools and nothing more. Watching Zevran worship a tool that was rather essential to him sent a rush of heat through the Chevalier's body that was entirely unexpected. His fingers curled slightly, toying with loose strands of hair, marveling at the assassin's face as lips, teeth, and tongue work against his wrist.
The way he watched his companion now spoke volumes of his want, the want for those lips to be on his, the want for that smaller body to be wrapped around him, breathless kissing, and those leather clad hands everywhere.