That it wasn't supposed to be like this was what made the view of Zevran on his shoulders, limited in his responses, so enticing. He had no interest in taming his companion's wild urges, but to see a man with such experiences as he no doubt had, in need of Michel? It was sweeter than he could have imagined it, he did not mind giving himself over to Zevran's control, if he was being honest, but to relieve him of the need for it? For just a while? It might even be good for the assassin from time to time, it might be good for Michel who was so limited in expressing himself, to be able to express himself with Zevran even if his expressions were physical. He could pour himself into it, if Zevran wasn't going to turn him away then he would have to.
Perhaps he had a responsibility to, after that kiss, or perhaps he wanted more than he knew he could have.
Whatever he was doing for whatever reason he was thinking, he relented at that final please, but not before one more broad swipe against the flushed apex of the assassin's cock. A soft noise in the back of his throat at the taste of him, and then arms slowly, expertly lowered his smaller body to the floor of the loft. They were up to their calves in soft, grassy hay, but Michel hadn't paid mind to it, it didn't matter at the moment. What mattered now was the free range of movement between the two of them now and how he used that to descend to his knees slowly, fingers catching at the waist of Zevran's leathers, tugging them down as they went.
"I'll give you more..." he murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses along Zevran's pelvis, free hands now smoothing along the inside of his thighs.
Zevran's back bowed with a bone deep whine at that last swipe, that throaty noise of Michel's pleasure branded in his memory for nights to come. Elves were sweet, Zevran took steps to ensure he remained as such with many fruits and an abundance of honey in his diet, but to have such a thing noticed and appreciated? Tore through him.
A quick drop would suffice but no, Michel took his time, lowered him with skill and care, leaving Zevran slumped back against the wooden beam, hair mussed, eyes wide, shuddering in anticipation. The soft brush of hay was but one more layer of sensation underlying the heat in Michel's eyes. Whatever he had planned- Zevran hovered on the edge of saying he would do whatever Michel asked.
Bit back the urge for in this moment? He would mean it. How could he mean such a thing?
Down Michel knelt and Zevran had to brace his shoulders against the wood, lock his knees where they wished to buckle at the heat of his mouth, burning him, branding him deeper than any of the scars or needles that marked his skin. "Michel-"
Perhaps the first time he's used the Chevalier's name. Ever it had been bello, been sun, been teasing words.
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Perhaps he had a responsibility to, after that kiss, or perhaps he wanted more than he knew he could have.
Whatever he was doing for whatever reason he was thinking, he relented at that final please, but not before one more broad swipe against the flushed apex of the assassin's cock. A soft noise in the back of his throat at the taste of him, and then arms slowly, expertly lowered his smaller body to the floor of the loft. They were up to their calves in soft, grassy hay, but Michel hadn't paid mind to it, it didn't matter at the moment. What mattered now was the free range of movement between the two of them now and how he used that to descend to his knees slowly, fingers catching at the waist of Zevran's leathers, tugging them down as they went.
"I'll give you more..." he murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses along Zevran's pelvis, free hands now smoothing along the inside of his thighs.
no subject
A quick drop would suffice but no, Michel took his time, lowered him with skill and care, leaving Zevran slumped back against the wooden beam, hair mussed, eyes wide, shuddering in anticipation. The soft brush of hay was but one more layer of sensation underlying the heat in Michel's eyes. Whatever he had planned- Zevran hovered on the edge of saying he would do whatever Michel asked.
Bit back the urge for in this moment? He would mean it. How could he mean such a thing?
Down Michel knelt and Zevran had to brace his shoulders against the wood, lock his knees where they wished to buckle at the heat of his mouth, burning him, branding him deeper than any of the scars or needles that marked his skin. "Michel-"
Perhaps the first time he's used the Chevalier's name. Ever it had been bello, been sun, been teasing words.