"So you say now." Zevran murmurs, nipping at the underside of Cy's jaw. Binding his wrist did not take long at all, if anything it's done quickly, simply. Several rounds of rope around each wrist and bound together, loops that he might hold onto pressed into his palms for leverage or comfort. Now, though, he sits back on his heels, hands dragging from shoulder to thigh. Admiring all that pale, bruised skin.
Cyril shifts a bit to test the bonds but not too hard. He can't help the smirk that stays on his lips as he tied up. His hips move up into the touch, enjoying the way that Zevran seems so please to touch him.
"You must tell me what you use for your skin once we are finished. I do not think I've ever met an elf with skin so soft, so fair." Let alone a Dalish elf. Surely there is some trick to this- but after. For now he draws his hands along thigh and hip, pinching at Cyril's nipples, along his ribs, creating little bruises he means to follow with his mouth.
He moans very softly as Zevran teases his body. "Mm. I'll share my secrets if you make it worth my while," he replies. He doesn't mean all of his secrets, of course, but the skin care ones are up for grabs if Zevran keeps up those touches with his hands and mouth.
Cyril's arms tighten a bit, tugging softly against the binds, as he resists the urge to grasp at Zevran to encourage him to touch his mouth to every inch of his skin.
"I accept your challenge, Tesoro." So responsive- Zevran's bone deep need to find lovely things and hoard them isn't entirely appropriate here- but the one to find lovely things and ruin them? Leave the gold a little tarnished, put a crack in a fine mirror? That he looses on Cyril's skin with bitten bruises and sucked love bites down the length of his torso- hands parting Cyril's thighs to make room for him as he drags his teeth ever downward.
The curve of his hip, the divot between thigh and groin- there he stops to suck in a deep, purple bruise. It takes less work than it would for most.
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i'm so sorry this is so late
Cyril's arms tighten a bit, tugging softly against the binds, as he resists the urge to grasp at Zevran to encourage him to touch his mouth to every inch of his skin.
s'awright!
The curve of his hip, the divot between thigh and groin- there he stops to suck in a deep, purple bruise. It takes less work than it would for most.