The walk to his room had been rife with the odd snort of laughter at the image they might make- and with mischievous lips and licks- pressed this close to Michel's everfine skin, well. It was a temptation Zevran couldn't resist. Bundled as he was in the cloak he could also allow his hands to wander in decidedly indecent directions. Without the armor finding the thrum of his pulse, the peaks of his nipples, the curved expanse of his ribs was easy enough.
Easier still was it to roll their hips together when there weren't too many people minding them- so that should Michel stumble he would not drop Zevran, nor startle so much that he'd abandon the course before they ever arrived. But to be held like this, to be tucked close and to be able to feel how it was he enthralled Michel? How could he not take advantage of the position?
Alistair away meant taking a moment to hang a sock or a scarf on the outer doorknob before locking it- twisting to do so while not forcing Michel to set him down took a bit of twisting- but he managed. "You are going to have to strip down entirely for this Soleil."
In retrospect is was probably a good idea that Chevalier wore armor in spite of being as capable as any duelist from Rivain or Antiva without as exposed nipples might be a serious downfall to consider after having officially made an attempt to carry Zevran while being felt up. Sex was mostly efficient pleasure and was dealt with quickly and unembellished, as such Michel had no inkling that the body could be so sensitive. He was well aware of the usual spots, the obvious, but then there were places he hadn't considered to be particularly sensitive for a man.
More than once he had to put on an awkward display as when tweaked and molested on the way to Zevran's room. His knees buckled awkwardly a few times catching a gaze here and there. It was difficult to maintain a mask of complete indifference in such a situation, it was even more difficult to be patient and now and again he pulled his companion out of the light, just long enough quench his lust with a few frenzied kisses, a nip to one finely pointed ear followed closely by a gentle tug. Michel could just as easily take advantage of of his companion, though he wasn't as certain he could be quite as skilled at it.
Finally they reached their destination, and Michel continued to cradle his companion while he adorned the doorknob and locked it behind them. Part of him should have felt shame of some sort knowing that it was s sign of carnal things happening behind this door. At the moment all he could think about was how flexible a dancing partner he had in his arms.
When instructed to strip down however, he had no choice but to free up his arms and that meant releasing Zevran. He eased the elf down on the edge of the bed, still bound up in his cloak before withdrawing only a few feet, "ah? I'm to be rubbed down so thoroughly then?"
Grabbing the hem of his tunic he pulled it over his head, revealing sturdy muscle surging underneath that pale Orlesian skin. His hair falling into his eyes as he shook of the material and folded it over the edge of the bed before lowering himself to his knees between Zevran's legs, "you'll make me feel like a noble with all of this attention."
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.
Michel had, to be perfectly honest, not expected to find himself in this room for a second time, and he wasn't certain why this was. He was confused to some extent, but a part of him realized that his body was being trained to accept something, like any exercise he'd learned as a chevalier, he fell into it naturally. So when Zevran eased himself into his lap, touched him, made it difficult not to respond, Michel obeyed every instinct without considering that's what he was doing. This might have played out differently if the elf had sat in another chair, if he'd come with his shirt on, his charms in check, instead he was changing Chevalier...making it difficult for Michel to figure out what was wrong with himself.
He wanted a diversion. He wanted to indulge in a few more of life's pleasures? He wanted...what he wanted wasn't exactly clear to him anymore. Purpose had always been everything to him and now he was confused, but he kept it well inside and buried.
"I think I can allow that," Michel whispered as he felt the familiar heat pool in the pit of his stomach, now primed to respond to Antivan leather, particularly those gloves, and oil, with arousal. He could feel the stirrings as a thrill of pleasure rippled down his spine. It was absolutely a good thing that Antivan leather was so difficult to come by, at this point if it was common Michel might just find it difficult to concentrate on anything else. Eventually he would need to concentrate. For now he curled his fingers around Zevran's as the elf guided his hands to his thighs, not at all opposed, curious by the order.
Pride he had in spades, but he was not beneath following orders, though following orders as a Chevalier was one thing. As a noble, and an Orlesian, with Zevran being an elf, the idea should have inspired some dissonance...and yet again Michel acted opposite of what was expected of him. He did not move his hands, but he kept them pressed firmly against Zevran's thighs, not above caressing them and smoothing his palms along the inside for a bit of a distraction, but he did not move his hands from the general area.
"I...I look forward to it..." and though he sounded more modest than he should have Michel found he was anticipating Zevran's moves more and more. His shoulders rolled under the attention, Zevran's gaze, however, was difficult to hold without feeling as though he might tumble into it. He remained though, fixed, a subtle burning behind his expression as Zevran made certain the gaze was held. It wasn't an order, but some things didn't require and spoken command, it was the implication. Not for trying, but as the assassin's hand moved to his throat Michel found focusing with his eyes to be difficult, much less keeping them open as he pressed himself into that hand against his neck, breath catching just a bit in his throat.
Was he inviting something? Not even he could say what he was doing or asking as just as easily that hand was continuing its downward path.
"Aaa..." his body hitched a little and the air rushed from his lungs quickly as Zevran took him by surprise. His nipples were still untrained and unused to the torments of being coaxed intro arousal. It still had him trembling and struggling to keep his eyes on his companion's face, color rushing to his own like a fever overwhelming him. He wanted to disguise it more, to push it down just a bit, to keep up with Zevran on an even keel, if for no other reason than the want to be good at this, instead he was a slave to the slightest touch and it wasn't at all bad.
He could attempt to be cool and distant- to be stern, to be the instructor- but that is not what Michel wants of him. A more experienced partner, yes, but not that. Zevran kept his eyes warm and his smile kind- almost gentle. This was an entirely new realm Michel was exploring and a chance to be rough would come later. For now? He let Michel lean into his hand as much as he liked, murmuring soft Antivan encouragements. Soft praise before he turned his attention lower- going back over everything he learned made Michel a shuddering, begging mess the last time they'd bedded one another.
"What a pity that no one has before taken the time to lavish you with the proper attention, Soleil. But the loss of the world is my gain, yes? You are gorgeous like this." Flushed and wanting, a little uncertain and a lot eager. The best sort of lover was one that wished to please and be pleased and did not mind learning new ways to go about it. Zevran's hand dipped lower, teasing at Michel's navel, the thin skin over his hips before he leaned back and patted the bed behind him. "Lose the trousers and lie down on your back, mm? You are still so tense. I think I ought to fix that."
He might have been told to keep his hands in place for the time being, but there was nothing in such instructions that suggested he couldn't move his hands...and he rather liked where they were...this did not mean he couldn't roll his body up just enough to press his lips gently to the side of his companion's neck. He certainly appreciated this side of Zevran, whether it was a show or if there was something genuine in it, he caught on to the needs of others quickly, at least in this respect. Michel did not know what Zevran's needs were, but he made an effort to express that there was nothing unbalanced about it, he was appreciative, not entitled.
"Most privileged individuals view everything around them as their right by birth--without realizing that it all comes with a very specific set of obligations...the fault is more my own...such dalliances, I..." Michel shook his head, perhaps that was too much conversation? He wasn't certain, but he knew that it was his own devotion to his responsibilities that left him in denial of pleasures. Of course it also didn't help that Zevran's wandering fingers drew a calculated sigh from his lips. Strong as he was, he never felt weaker than when those fingers touched him, it was for that very reason he wanted more of it. So when instructed to do so Michel did not hesitate to strip out of what clothing remained to him.
Climbing into the bed with Zevran, he paused for a moment, kneeling at his side long enough to take his face in one hand, kissing the elf thoroughly, before withdrawing and sliding, fluidly, into place.
"Have not given yourself the time to enjoy them." He turned enough to brush his lips against Michel's forehead in a fond caress before his lips were taken properly. Even with his reservations and newness to this, Michel was eager if nothing else. Affectionate. Zevran had to appreciate this shade in the Chevalier- and consider how he might manipulate it. The thought was an idle one he had in every situation with every person, much how he considered how he might kill them should he have a need to do so.
But laid out bare and beautiful on his sheets- well. He pushed such thoughts aside in favor of slicking his palms with oil and leaning over Michel- slipping his gloved palms from his collars in a long sweep down his chest. Spreading it about flushed, fair skin until it glistened in the room's low light. Gently he rubbed the oil into Michel's skin, chasing the knots of tension about his collar and shoulders; his pectorals and ribs. "Take deep breaths, mm? Try to relax."
As though he wasn't aiming to make each breath shallow and fevered in time.
It seems he didn't have to complete his thoughts after all, for the best perhaps, as he wanted nothing more than to sink into Zevran and his attentions like one might a warm bath. It had crossed his mind that this might all be a stratagem of some sort, a means to an end as it was never too far from his mind that Zevran was an assassin and seduction was as much a tool and a weapon as the sharp end of a blade. It wouldn't be the first time that he though--this might not be the worst way to go and if he didn't have a mission to complete he might entertain the idea more thoroughly. Not that he believed that it would happen here and certainly not right right, did that make him confident, or careless with his life?
Slick gloved palms over his skin seemed to advocate for an entirely different point of view, distracting Michel from thinking about anything other than the oil warming against his skin. The texture of leather gloves sliding over the planes and plateaus of his body, skin warming in time with every slippery stroke. It was almost tempting to grab his companion and pull him in so that their bodies could slide together just as easily as those fingers did against his skin. Tempting...and maybe, after all images of Zevran's sleek frame oiled up against him, skin darker than his own in contrast, limbs tangled around his own. It was a real threat, but he was also enjoying his current petting session, "hmm...I think it would be very difficult for anyone not to relax like this..."
He was more than capable of relaxing, breathing deeply, though really it only made the leather more potent and the heady atmosphere heavy. Much as he wanted to try, it was difficult to remain passive, not touching Zevran, was torture. Doing his best not to hamper the experience he coasted his own hands slowly along the assassin's arms, twisting around the fine limbs, attentive to the sturdy muscles, knowing them as well as he knew his own. Though not a creature of seduction it was certainly important to know the body, to be able to identify the various types of pain...conversely he could identify what felt good as well.
"You might be surprised, I have been tasked to tending to some particularly stubborn people in my time." A few knights after the grand tourney more disgusted by being handled by an elf than they were in need of his skills. As they died quickly enough from the poison in the massage oil, well. He didn't take it personally. It wasn't his favorite means; poison was rarely so quick and clean as a dagger- not that he is thinking much of either at the moment. No, he was seeking out the spots of tension and knotted muscle under Michel's skin- the fluidity of his gestures, how he moves with the Chevalier to accommodate his need to touch speaks to years of experience both in the massage and in being touched back just as much.
Some humans simply cannot help but want to touch- when they aren't bothered by his being an elf. He does not mind- hands slipping back up from ribs to catch one of Michel's hands, working fingers and palm and wrist- rolling out tension that he finds, smoothing his skin with more oil. More than the massage, he turns enough to press his lips to the skin of Michel's wrist, working his teeth and tongue over the now slick skin fluttering over his pulse. It is a slow seduction, methodological and languid- exacting in which marks he wishes to make, eyes ever on Michel's. Something in watching how they go dark and hazy with desire knots tight in the pit of Zevran's stomach.
"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.
"It requires years of careful study. One must learn the body and how it moves, how it aches, how to soothe those aches in many ways. Soreness brought on by overexertion is different than soreness from bruising or a pulled muscle. Then there are injuries old and new to consider and how to work around them, what oils work best with what kind of skin, what scents are the most pleasing." Word by word he worked his hands and lips down the length of Michel's arm, wrist to elbow to shoulder to collar- all the away until he was speaking against the underside of his jaw as his hands moved on to repeat the process on the opposite side. A fond fan of symmetry when applicable, was Zevran. The tensions that needed to be worked out were equal. The skin he wished to bite and kiss was equally fine and pale and aching for attention.
For a moment he remained, oiled hands set in their gloves against Michel's chest as he dragged his teeth over the beginnings of a love bite. Only a moment before he pulled himself up to press their lips together- a teasing glance of contact, before he sat back on his heels and worked at Michel's other arm. Fingertips to palm to wrist and again, focused and methodical in his work above all else, though not so much he cannot pause now and then to lean down and kiss Michel once more.
There was something about licking his way into the Chevalier's mouth as though he had a right to it that he found particularly pleasing, more so than having him bound and naked at his mercy.
"Quite a difference from a Chevalier's knowledge of the body...everything is about ascertaining pain. Breathing, keeping our muscles limber, strength in a wounded limb, fighting the effects of magic and drugs, identifying pain...the pain is separated from the aches, things that are largely ignored," his eyes had all but shuttered closed at this point, his neck stretched back as he feels the heat of the elf under his jaw. He figured if ever there was a time to practice those limbering exercises, now was very appropriate and easier under those hands that were meant to be soothing and relaxing. It was a different story while training, having another's hands to relax under would have been a luxury. It was a luxury that would take him a long time to learn, but a part of Michel wanted to return it in some way, another way. He couldn't return this level of skill with anything but gentle caresses and palms, roughened from the sword, smoothing over skin.
Then there was the visual, watching his companion move over his body, dip down and press his lips against his chest, wrung soft, pleased noises from him. If he were a cat he would purr vigorously under the attention, as it stood one might be able to say the sound of purring was equivalent to the soft noises those fingers, those lips, drew from him. Slowly, a pleasant heat began to creep through his veins and burn along his skin, following in the wake of every touch and every time that mouth pressed against his own. The kisses were brief, but he found himself leaning up into them, meeting Zevran half way, lips parting automatically to taste, to tangle his tongue with his bedmate's. He enjoyed this soft, raw bit of intimacy almost as much as he enjoyed being touched. Kissing was an act that could easily inflame, could make one want to wrap themselves around another in a slow, intimate dance.
"This, like much everything else I know, is tied to murder. Where is a body it's most fragile, what vulnerabilities I might find." Offhand and idle, as though he did not have his hands resting at the base of Michel's throat, rolling away the tension. As if he did not have Michel splayed and slick and gasping, utterly at his mercy. Part of the danger was his appeal, or so he'd noticed during the last time they lay together. He was an assassin, he was dangerous, he was forbidden- it gave him the lingering excitement of many a lover. "But, on occasion, I enjoy performing a massage for the sake of pleasing a partner."
Such as now when he let himself be caught by Michel's lips, hands working between them to massage the taught knots in his pectorals, slippery thumbs flicking back and forth over his nipples mercilessly. For every new, engaging thing he found to make Michel writhe, he abused. How could he not when it made him kiss so sweetly, arch so beautifully?
Zevran slid back with one last nibbling kiss, slotting himself between Michel's thighs to work on his abdomen and hips, hands delving low along his pelvis without dragging anywhere obscene. Yet.
Michel lifted both hands to the ones settled on the base of his neck and and simply held them there for a moment before dropping them to Zevran's waist. If the Chevalier experienced fear it was very little, even in knowing what the other man was and what he could do. For Michel, Zevran was a forbidden thing in more ways than one, his status in the realm of killing only added to that list. It was a passing thought that he would always keep to himself as there currently didn't seem to be a need to talk about the history of his disgrace, which was a long, involved, and ultimately boring process. It was something he liked to tell those who were curious anyway, a means of deflecting the question.
"How fortunate...for your partners..." Michel murmured against Zevran's lips between kisses. His breathing slowly transforming from something steady and controlled to uneven and shallow, gradually, as Zevran's touch turned to something more intimate, nipples peaking easily under the manipulation of thumbs. He tasked himself with kissing the elf feverishly and holding him steadily in place before his companion finally withdrew to take up a spot between his legs.
Michel recalled the last time Zevran found himself in that particular position and it brought vague recollections to his memory of the sounds he made and the way his body moved. It put a knot in the pit of his stomach as he forced himself not to remember, it wasn't an unpleasant, but dwelling on it right now? He knew if he allowed himself he wouldn't be able to maintain his self control, his body had changed under Zevran's attentions the last time and a part of him wondered at the careful pains the assassin went through to wind him up.
"I have yet to hear any complaints." For he ever left them satisfied. With all his years of training and practice- it was difficult to not. He'd twisted the compulsion into a point of pride and while that was likely not the most healthy means of dealing with his life it gave him joy. That? Was worth more than any healthy coping mechanism the Maker might give him. Besides. This was fun, pleasing, and a fine way to learn all sorts of sultry, sordid things. One can learn much of a man by how he stood or what he read or how he spoke- but a body in bliss told just as much if one knew how to read the tells. Zevran had long since been taught this language- it was his seconds after Antivan. He'd learned how to tell what a man's eyes hid and what a shuddering sigh meant before he'd ever learned the common tongue.
What he was reading of Michel fascinated him, every hidden or repressed desire, every secretive glance. That he was forbidden socially went without saying But there was something deeper to Michel's amorous disquiet. Something he meant to coax out in time. For now he focused on working his way down one lean thigh- again with hands and oil and gloves first before he laved in wet, open mouthed kisses from the crease of Michel's groin to the back of his knee, working out tension and winding him back up with ever drag of his teeth and curl of his tongue. Down one leg to the sole of his foot- which he spared the kissing as some did not find that quite so arousing and the inherent servitude such an image rose was not at all the point in this time- and back up from ankle to knee to thigh. Hands and oil and mouth, though he remained there between Michel's thighs, sucking a warm bruise into the inside of each ever so gently.
He certainly would hear no complaints from Michel either, such luxury was seldom sought and it was even rarer to come across, for whatever reason the elf might have for doing this at least the Chevalier was grateful, if not in body than in other ways. It was easy to allow himself to relax, to give his muscles a break from the usual training, he had to consciously work at being limber and loose...while this? Took about as much effort as wading into a warm bath. He closed his eyes for a moment and stifled his urges and all of that Chevalier discipline to simply allow himself to enjoy the things he normally couldn't while he thought of ways he might return the favor. Not that thinking was easy with all of the heaviness in his limbs and his clouded thoughts.
It didn't help that Zevran's kneading and caressing was becoming more sensual, he knew that it would given the insistence upon his nakedness. Michel knew little about massages, but he knew enough to know that one could have one while still wearing one's trousers and that it predominately involved the use of one's hands over one's mouth. Those soft, open-mouthed kisses that he worked along the Chevalier's legs, wet, warm, and just shy of where his body ached for him, drew proper groans from the warrior's lips. His legs were accommodating, shifting apart instinctively to give Zevran more room to work with.
He watched his companion as best as he could through the dark fringe of his lashes, eyes little more than slivers of winter blue as Zevran finally settled between his thighs, marking his flesh in a way that would stand out against that fair Orlesian skin. Just the sound of the assassin's lips and mouth working his skin worked him up nicely. This, combined with his skilled touch and the scent of oil textured leather drew heat to his loins and he could feel his cock responding without any direct provocation at all, half-hard already against his stomach. The heat also began to crawl its way over his skin and he found it difficult to suppress.
One of the many fine things of knights and other warriors was how thoroughly and artfully muscled they were- honestly so. Not something done to achieve a certain stature to be appealing, not at all, but through genuine work that layered on flesh over bone in broad, sturdy lines. It left an edge of power to them, of danger- and Zevran ever fancied those that were on his side of dangerous. Equally broad and handsome nobles with no skill at blades did not attract his eyes, his hands, his mouth quite so easily. But Michel? Was all tightly trained capability wrapped in scarred white silk. Perhaps he ought to write a poem- or sketch him in sultry repose for his own memory later.
For now he worked his way higher, hands skimming over his hips, lips tracing along the line of his cock in a long sweep of soft lips and broad strokes of his tongue. A swirling suck at the head before he kissed his way from navel to sternum. All this side worked over and worked over well; there was but one thing that yet needed doing. "Roll over, Soleil, so I might work on your back.
Michel rarely kept tabs on his body only knowing that there was a significant difference between it now from when he was younger, a scrappy thing that lacked any sort of definition and grace. Arguably, when there were a set of hands and lips working over each plane and plateau, each well turned muscle, it was difficult not to be aware of one's body just a bit or rather, more aware of where he was being touched. For whatever reason there would be no fussing from him considering how much he was enjoying those fingers, stretching and twisting under Zevran luxuriously for when would something like this happen again?
His breath caught in his chest, eyes sliding open again, as the mouth that had moments before left a bruise on the inside of each thigh in turn greeted his neglected cock. Partially aroused from the indirect stimulation of fingers and a very gifted tongue until now, the direct stimulation had him tightening to full hardness against the stroke of his tongue and the heat of his mouth. A soft moan rumbled up from the depths of him as Zevran merely greeted that part of him before diverting his attentions elsewhere and then withdrawing from him altogether.
If one could be drunk on desire Michel certainly looked the part, barely registering what it was Zevran was asking him, staring for a moment or so before responding to the command. Backs were usually central to massages, he was aware of this, but this was the first time Zevran would have him on his stomach and it gave him a brief pause. Exposing his back so carelessly was certainly an act of trust on his part and after a moment he decided to turn over another low moan smothered by the sheets this time as his erection found itself caught between the mattress and his stomach.
"No one else has seen you like this, have they?" Far from teasing, the words were soft, edged with proud affection and faint wonder. No one else had had Michel so willingly at their mercy, strung out on sensation and desire. Zevran was, at his core, a quietly selfish creature and to know no one had seen this, touched Michel quite like this, led him down sultry, sordid paths into all manner of sinful indulgence and likely none he would meet in the future could do it half so well or leave him half so distracted? Pleased him in a way no hand or mouth ever could. For however long they continue their dalliance- Michel like this, stripped of mask and sense and duty, was his.
Zevran meant to make the most of every lingering moment. Fresh oil applied to his hands he slid up to straddle the distracting, perfect curve of Michel's ass, pausing to grind his hips down so he might feel the leather and, in turn, be ground against the silken sheets. Hard and straining against the laces he indulged himself a moment with that friction, shuddering from the tips of his ears to the base of his spine before he recalled the purpose of this position.
First his hands, then his mouth- working out every knot of tension, every coiled muscle that he had been unable to reach while Michel lay on his back. Broad shoulders and firm muscle, the almost delicate curves of his spine, the soft nape of his neck- Zevran bent to his task to nip and nuzzle, kissing with gentle adoration along Michel's shoulders, following the long path down his spine from nape to base even as his hands worked out the tension he could find. The lower he went the further he had to slide down the backs of Michel's thighs, before he nudged them apart to settle there once again, biting a bruise into the small of his back.
"No..." Michel confirmed simply, his face feeling all the warmer for the admission, like a man confessing that he was a virgin or never having swung a sword in his life. Fighting and having skill in the bedroom seemed to be a prerequisite for having pride in one's self for some reason. Michel thought it was strange and often kept his personal business to himself, then there were others who were quite loud about their conquests or their experiences and it only made him question whether it was true or just a show. He could only be honest about such things. He'd been trained never to present his back in any situation, though that was specifically in the case of battles and not in the case of massages. How often did a Chevalier get a massage? Perhaps some frequented such places of accommodation, but with his own life forfeit to the Empress he could not afford to be caught with his pants down both as a means to preserve her honor and his, but also his responsibilities dictated that he be available at a moment's notice.
Such thoughts were banished the moment Zevran began rolling his hips causing Michel's own to undulate, actively surging up to meet the delicious thrusting and moaning softly against the sheets every time his hips jerked forward. The pressure was building slowly, his sex swelling with ever pass of silk and the pressure that accompanied being crushed into the mattress. He thought he might find it uncomfortable at the very least....uncomfortable in an unpleasant way. Any discomfort he felt came from that building mantra screaming "more," forcing his body to twist restlessly until the grinding stopped with a sigh from the Chevalier.
Closing his eyes again he tried to keep his mind off the pulsing heat between his stomach and the sheets, instead focusing on the path of those hands and lips. It was so easy to melt under the attention of Zevran's fingers, his body bending to his companion's purpose, drawing the occasional sigh and delicate shudder from him as the assassin nipped and nuzzled his way lower and lower, toes curling as he felt his companion settle between his legs again, teeth and lips against his skin making his back arch under the attention. Would he be able to find any sensation that compared to this if he looked for it? How far would he have to go? Would a chevalier be welcome in Antiva...why think of such things?
"Marvelous." He murmured, that same, possessive thing coiled in his voice as it had sat behind his eyes their first night together. This- all of this was truly his. It should not coil like a pleasing wine in his gut, that thought, and yet it did. With every nipped bruise and pass of his hands the massage became less about tension and more about appraisal. More about marking what was his. It was a risky mindset to slip into with one so unaccustomed to the game and yet Michel let himself so well to it's nuances. Somehow his relative innocence (inexperience was not purity) made it all the more desirable. Less in words; for he had no right to them; and more in touch did every press and glide say the same thing.
Mine.
Something he would not dare speak but something he could entertain for the brief hours they would spend with one another. Back, arms, legs seen to Zevran let his hands slide over the curve of Michel's ass, mouth dropping to the back of his thigh where the two met, and bit gently; working a new bruise into being there. Another and another on one leg, then the other, before he leaned back. "I am going to try something else that is new to you, I think- tell me if you find it permissible and pleasurable."
The almost chaste, gallant kiss he pressed to Michel's tailbone ought to be hint enough as to where this was going- and offer time enough for him to decide yes or no.
Michel could feel the tone of the massage change after his confession, like vines creeping over his skin, tendrils twisting and winding around each limb. It was a sensation he'd felt once before, one that filled him with a rush he couldn't quite explain, it momentarily trapped the air in his lungs, forcing him to remember that he had to, in fact, breathe. Last time he encountered this sensation he'd seen it behind Zevran's eyes, it was no different now other than the form it took. The sound of his voice, the way those hands smoothed over him, the intent behind the massage all but replaced with this new thing he could barely perceive, but he knew it was there. It caused the heat to rise in him once again, but the sheets were cool against his face and only his shoulders betrayed that suffusion of warmth
He yielded to it, though he would yield to nothing else and might not even remember this as yielding as boneless as he was. His fingers bunched into those sheets, flexing, twisting, anchoring himself to the bed as Zevran continued his attentions lower, more bruises following in the wake of that generous mouth. It was fortunate that Michel did not get dressed in a room shared with others, he would have a difficult time explaining away so many bruises that were obviously not the product of being clumsy--too small and too intimate were their placements.
Another soft moan followed by a visible shudder like a chill ripped up his spine as the assassin fixed his attention on his ass. It was curious, though he wasn't exactly new to some of Zevran's attentions down in the...southern regions...he still had to wonder a little at what his companion wanted to do. So, pushing himself up onto his forearms, Michel looked over his shoulder, his eyes unfixed as he watched Zevran kiss his tailbone...gallant and lewd...he was still attempting to find a word for it. It took a moment to dawn on him that the elf wanted to, well he could speculate on it, but even he had to confess that he did not believe the elf was so daring.
"I..." he blinked a few times so that his eyes might adjust enabling him to look at Zevran properly, or as properly as he could manage, "...if you are certain, if it is what you want to do, bel homme..."
He was not opposed, but he wanted to be just as certain that this was what Zevran wanted to do an not for the sake of completion
"I am." Normally he need be asked to do such a thing- but Michel likely would not think to ask. It was a trick seldom returned and thus something he reserved for ether his most demanding or reciprocal lovers...but Michel? May never have experienced the liked and thus it was one more thing, one more sensation and experience he could brand into the Chevalier's skin and burrow into his memory as belonging to him and him alone. Another way to crawl deep into his skin and take root, leave him twisting for want of more. For need of another kiss, another touch, another night.
Had he any manner of forethought Zevran might nave noticed how deeply he dove and how much of Michel he kept when he resurfaced from this strange, possessive place. They were not playing that game quite so well, now. They were not playing it at all- but something in Michel called to him all the same. Responded to how his hands stroked and his lips pressed in calculated affection. He had made no rules, there were no bindings. Not so much as a watchword so this wasn't- would not- be that.
No, this was something else. But it was something he would give- did give, without batting an eye, dragging lips and tongue down from tailbone to the ring of his entrance, tongue laving in a flat stroke across much as he'd massaged him gently with oil before daring to tease a finger within. Like this he could not watch Michel's face- but he recalled the way his head tilted back, the way he bit his lips, the angle of his brows, the flush of his cheeks- he could hear well enough and that? Would have to do. Provided he worked hard enough to prompt some of that sweet Orlesian sighing. Little by little he worked that knot of muscle into something loose and easy, licking around the rim, teasing the tip of his tongue inside when he felt there was enough give- pulling back to breathe cool air over skin made slick. Every dirty trick that came to mind save for biting.
He did not think that would go over well with Michel and thus, kept his kisses and the slow thrust of his tongue tender.
Michel wasn't entirely certain how much he was going to enjoy this personally, or if the act would bring Zevran any pleasure, but his companion was resolute and Michel was nothing if not accommodating. It was new, it was with Zevran, and no experience his companion visited upon him so far had been anything short of extraordinary. A touch could melt the Chevalier, a kiss could set every nerve on fire, and when he turned the full force of his Antivan leather on the warrior, Michel succumbed to his bedmate's whims. Apart from his arousal sandwiched between his stomach ant the bed, he was completely pliant and willing under leather clad hands.
This time his hands weren't bound so he was able to fold his arms under his head and grip the sheets, anchoring himself and mentally preparing himself for this new experience. It wasn't as though having Zevran between his legs was different, but the act was, it inspired those same feelings of vulnerability that Michel pushed down and yet he could move and get out if he wanted. He simply didn't want to.
He could already feel the rippling pleasure running down his spine at the seductive descent of lips and tongue, his body jerking once from surprise before settling against the bed and acquainting himself with this new sensation. Initially it was strange, a tongue was different from a finger or the swollen head of a cock rubbing against that tight ring of muscle. Growing used to it, however too very little time...warm, wet, soft and stimulating so many sensitive nerve endings. The heat Michel had been holding onto crept its way along his shoulders up to his ears, no doubt his face was getting warm as well, but it was pressed into the fold of his arms. His breathing became a shaky, wavering thing as Zevran's tongue continued in its attention.
The brief dip inside cause the breath to catch in the back of Michel's throat, followed by a soft contented noise, a lazy moan. When cool air struck him the muscled ring contracted and the Chevalier could feel the involuntary hitch of his hips as he pushed up...it was strange, but it felt just as good as he hands smoothing over his body had--slippery and familiar. He wouldn't have minded if Zevran got his teeth involved, if it was an act that got his bedmate off.
Deriving pleasure from biting would take training on Michel's part given his pain tolerance.
Something Zevran may have to explain in the future- that there was as much pleasure for him in pleasing someone he lay with, and far more pleasure for him when finding those tiny, secret spaces in Michel that even he did not know he had and bringing them to the light. Turning them about and toying with them before they were set on the shelf to be pulled down at a later date. For he knew from now until someone came by and did it better (ha, at that), Michel would connect this pleasure, these moments and feelings? With him. And Zevran was perversely selfish enough to wish to brand every brilliant, new secret with his name. To wish Michel to carry him in his very bones.
Perhaps that was why he adjusted his grip on Michel's thighs, grinding him slowly into the silken sheets as much as he worked his tongue in slow and deep. Everything that earned a moan, everything that wrung out a soft sound he did again, harder, sharper, sweeter. He would have Michel biting his fist or calling his name before the moment had passed. His hands shifted from hips, trusting that Michel would continue the lazy grind, and moved his hands to the swell of Michel's ass so he might hold him open and vulnerable in the dim light with his thumbs. To lave the flat of his tongue over the sensitive ring, to give himself the room to truly fuck Michel with his tongue.
Any questions he might have had as to whether or not he enjoyed it? Were answered by the sounds spilling from the Chevalier's throat.
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NSFW: Second Bout with a Chevalier, 25th of Haring
Date: 2016-01-08 08:16 pm (UTC)Easier still was it to roll their hips together when there weren't too many people minding them- so that should Michel stumble he would not drop Zevran, nor startle so much that he'd abandon the course before they ever arrived. But to be held like this, to be tucked close and to be able to feel how it was he enthralled Michel? How could he not take advantage of the position?
Alistair away meant taking a moment to hang a sock or a scarf on the outer doorknob before locking it- twisting to do so while not forcing Michel to set him down took a bit of twisting- but he managed. "You are going to have to strip down entirely for this Soleil."
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Date: 2016-01-09 01:54 am (UTC)More than once he had to put on an awkward display as when tweaked and molested on the way to Zevran's room. His knees buckled awkwardly a few times catching a gaze here and there. It was difficult to maintain a mask of complete indifference in such a situation, it was even more difficult to be patient and now and again he pulled his companion out of the light, just long enough quench his lust with a few frenzied kisses, a nip to one finely pointed ear followed closely by a gentle tug. Michel could just as easily take advantage of of his companion, though he wasn't as certain he could be quite as skilled at it.
Finally they reached their destination, and Michel continued to cradle his companion while he adorned the doorknob and locked it behind them. Part of him should have felt shame of some sort knowing that it was s sign of carnal things happening behind this door. At the moment all he could think about was how flexible a dancing partner he had in his arms.
When instructed to strip down however, he had no choice but to free up his arms and that meant releasing Zevran. He eased the elf down on the edge of the bed, still bound up in his cloak before withdrawing only a few feet, "ah? I'm to be rubbed down so thoroughly then?"
Grabbing the hem of his tunic he pulled it over his head, revealing sturdy muscle surging underneath that pale Orlesian skin. His hair falling into his eyes as he shook of the material and folded it over the edge of the bed before lowering himself to his knees between Zevran's legs, "you'll make me feel like a noble with all of this attention."
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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.
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Date: 2016-01-11 02:56 am (UTC)He wanted a diversion. He wanted to indulge in a few more of life's pleasures? He wanted...what he wanted wasn't exactly clear to him anymore. Purpose had always been everything to him and now he was confused, but he kept it well inside and buried.
"I think I can allow that," Michel whispered as he felt the familiar heat pool in the pit of his stomach, now primed to respond to Antivan leather, particularly those gloves, and oil, with arousal. He could feel the stirrings as a thrill of pleasure rippled down his spine. It was absolutely a good thing that Antivan leather was so difficult to come by, at this point if it was common Michel might just find it difficult to concentrate on anything else. Eventually he would need to concentrate. For now he curled his fingers around Zevran's as the elf guided his hands to his thighs, not at all opposed, curious by the order.
Pride he had in spades, but he was not beneath following orders, though following orders as a Chevalier was one thing. As a noble, and an Orlesian, with Zevran being an elf, the idea should have inspired some dissonance...and yet again Michel acted opposite of what was expected of him. He did not move his hands, but he kept them pressed firmly against Zevran's thighs, not above caressing them and smoothing his palms along the inside for a bit of a distraction, but he did not move his hands from the general area.
"I...I look forward to it..." and though he sounded more modest than he should have Michel found he was anticipating Zevran's moves more and more. His shoulders rolled under the attention, Zevran's gaze, however, was difficult to hold without feeling as though he might tumble into it. He remained though, fixed, a subtle burning behind his expression as Zevran made certain the gaze was held. It wasn't an order, but some things didn't require and spoken command, it was the implication. Not for trying, but as the assassin's hand moved to his throat Michel found focusing with his eyes to be difficult, much less keeping them open as he pressed himself into that hand against his neck, breath catching just a bit in his throat.
Was he inviting something? Not even he could say what he was doing or asking as just as easily that hand was continuing its downward path.
"Aaa..." his body hitched a little and the air rushed from his lungs quickly as Zevran took him by surprise. His nipples were still untrained and unused to the torments of being coaxed intro arousal. It still had him trembling and struggling to keep his eyes on his companion's face, color rushing to his own like a fever overwhelming him. He wanted to disguise it more, to push it down just a bit, to keep up with Zevran on an even keel, if for no other reason than the want to be good at this, instead he was a slave to the slightest touch and it wasn't at all bad.
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Date: 2016-01-11 10:32 pm (UTC)"What a pity that no one has before taken the time to lavish you with the proper attention, Soleil. But the loss of the world is my gain, yes? You are gorgeous like this." Flushed and wanting, a little uncertain and a lot eager. The best sort of lover was one that wished to please and be pleased and did not mind learning new ways to go about it. Zevran's hand dipped lower, teasing at Michel's navel, the thin skin over his hips before he leaned back and patted the bed behind him. "Lose the trousers and lie down on your back, mm? You are still so tense. I think I ought to fix that."
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Date: 2016-01-12 01:39 pm (UTC)"Most privileged individuals view everything around them as their right by birth--without realizing that it all comes with a very specific set of obligations...the fault is more my own...such dalliances, I..." Michel shook his head, perhaps that was too much conversation? He wasn't certain, but he knew that it was his own devotion to his responsibilities that left him in denial of pleasures. Of course it also didn't help that Zevran's wandering fingers drew a calculated sigh from his lips. Strong as he was, he never felt weaker than when those fingers touched him, it was for that very reason he wanted more of it. So when instructed to do so Michel did not hesitate to strip out of what clothing remained to him.
Climbing into the bed with Zevran, he paused for a moment, kneeling at his side long enough to take his face in one hand, kissing the elf thoroughly, before withdrawing and sliding, fluidly, into place.
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Date: 2016-01-12 11:53 pm (UTC)But laid out bare and beautiful on his sheets- well. He pushed such thoughts aside in favor of slicking his palms with oil and leaning over Michel- slipping his gloved palms from his collars in a long sweep down his chest. Spreading it about flushed, fair skin until it glistened in the room's low light. Gently he rubbed the oil into Michel's skin, chasing the knots of tension about his collar and shoulders; his pectorals and ribs. "Take deep breaths, mm? Try to relax."
As though he wasn't aiming to make each breath shallow and fevered in time.
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Date: 2016-01-15 01:21 am (UTC)Slick gloved palms over his skin seemed to advocate for an entirely different point of view, distracting Michel from thinking about anything other than the oil warming against his skin. The texture of leather gloves sliding over the planes and plateaus of his body, skin warming in time with every slippery stroke. It was almost tempting to grab his companion and pull him in so that their bodies could slide together just as easily as those fingers did against his skin. Tempting...and maybe, after all images of Zevran's sleek frame oiled up against him, skin darker than his own in contrast, limbs tangled around his own. It was a real threat, but he was also enjoying his current petting session, "hmm...I think it would be very difficult for anyone not to relax like this..."
He was more than capable of relaxing, breathing deeply, though really it only made the leather more potent and the heady atmosphere heavy. Much as he wanted to try, it was difficult to remain passive, not touching Zevran, was torture. Doing his best not to hamper the experience he coasted his own hands slowly along the assassin's arms, twisting around the fine limbs, attentive to the sturdy muscles, knowing them as well as he knew his own. Though not a creature of seduction it was certainly important to know the body, to be able to identify the various types of pain...conversely he could identify what felt good as well.
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Date: 2016-01-21 08:29 pm (UTC)Some humans simply cannot help but want to touch- when they aren't bothered by his being an elf. He does not mind- hands slipping back up from ribs to catch one of Michel's hands, working fingers and palm and wrist- rolling out tension that he finds, smoothing his skin with more oil. More than the massage, he turns enough to press his lips to the skin of Michel's wrist, working his teeth and tongue over the now slick skin fluttering over his pulse. It is a slow seduction, methodological and languid- exacting in which marks he wishes to make, eyes ever on Michel's. Something in watching how they go dark and hazy with desire knots tight in the pit of Zevran's stomach.
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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.
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Date: 2016-01-23 06:10 am (UTC)For a moment he remained, oiled hands set in their gloves against Michel's chest as he dragged his teeth over the beginnings of a love bite. Only a moment before he pulled himself up to press their lips together- a teasing glance of contact, before he sat back on his heels and worked at Michel's other arm. Fingertips to palm to wrist and again, focused and methodical in his work above all else, though not so much he cannot pause now and then to lean down and kiss Michel once more.
There was something about licking his way into the Chevalier's mouth as though he had a right to it that he found particularly pleasing, more so than having him bound and naked at his mercy.
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Date: 2016-01-24 01:17 am (UTC)Then there was the visual, watching his companion move over his body, dip down and press his lips against his chest, wrung soft, pleased noises from him. If he were a cat he would purr vigorously under the attention, as it stood one might be able to say the sound of purring was equivalent to the soft noises those fingers, those lips, drew from him. Slowly, a pleasant heat began to creep through his veins and burn along his skin, following in the wake of every touch and every time that mouth pressed against his own. The kisses were brief, but he found himself leaning up into them, meeting Zevran half way, lips parting automatically to taste, to tangle his tongue with his bedmate's. He enjoyed this soft, raw bit of intimacy almost as much as he enjoyed being touched. Kissing was an act that could easily inflame, could make one want to wrap themselves around another in a slow, intimate dance.
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Date: 2016-01-25 01:18 am (UTC)Such as now when he let himself be caught by Michel's lips, hands working between them to massage the taught knots in his pectorals, slippery thumbs flicking back and forth over his nipples mercilessly. For every new, engaging thing he found to make Michel writhe, he abused. How could he not when it made him kiss so sweetly, arch so beautifully?
Zevran slid back with one last nibbling kiss, slotting himself between Michel's thighs to work on his abdomen and hips, hands delving low along his pelvis without dragging anywhere obscene. Yet.
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Date: 2016-01-27 10:57 am (UTC)"How fortunate...for your partners..." Michel murmured against Zevran's lips between kisses. His breathing slowly transforming from something steady and controlled to uneven and shallow, gradually, as Zevran's touch turned to something more intimate, nipples peaking easily under the manipulation of thumbs. He tasked himself with kissing the elf feverishly and holding him steadily in place before his companion finally withdrew to take up a spot between his legs.
Michel recalled the last time Zevran found himself in that particular position and it brought vague recollections to his memory of the sounds he made and the way his body moved. It put a knot in the pit of his stomach as he forced himself not to remember, it wasn't an unpleasant, but dwelling on it right now? He knew if he allowed himself he wouldn't be able to maintain his self control, his body had changed under Zevran's attentions the last time and a part of him wondered at the careful pains the assassin went through to wind him up.
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Date: 2016-01-27 11:07 am (UTC)What he was reading of Michel fascinated him, every hidden or repressed desire, every secretive glance. That he was forbidden socially went without saying But there was something deeper to Michel's amorous disquiet. Something he meant to coax out in time. For now he focused on working his way down one lean thigh- again with hands and oil and gloves first before he laved in wet, open mouthed kisses from the crease of Michel's groin to the back of his knee, working out tension and winding him back up with ever drag of his teeth and curl of his tongue. Down one leg to the sole of his foot- which he spared the kissing as some did not find that quite so arousing and the inherent servitude such an image rose was not at all the point in this time- and back up from ankle to knee to thigh. Hands and oil and mouth, though he remained there between Michel's thighs, sucking a warm bruise into the inside of each ever so gently.
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Date: 2016-02-02 12:59 pm (UTC)It didn't help that Zevran's kneading and caressing was becoming more sensual, he knew that it would given the insistence upon his nakedness. Michel knew little about massages, but he knew enough to know that one could have one while still wearing one's trousers and that it predominately involved the use of one's hands over one's mouth. Those soft, open-mouthed kisses that he worked along the Chevalier's legs, wet, warm, and just shy of where his body ached for him, drew proper groans from the warrior's lips. His legs were accommodating, shifting apart instinctively to give Zevran more room to work with.
He watched his companion as best as he could through the dark fringe of his lashes, eyes little more than slivers of winter blue as Zevran finally settled between his thighs, marking his flesh in a way that would stand out against that fair Orlesian skin. Just the sound of the assassin's lips and mouth working his skin worked him up nicely. This, combined with his skilled touch and the scent of oil textured leather drew heat to his loins and he could feel his cock responding without any direct provocation at all, half-hard already against his stomach. The heat also began to crawl its way over his skin and he found it difficult to suppress.
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Date: 2016-02-03 06:17 am (UTC)For now he worked his way higher, hands skimming over his hips, lips tracing along the line of his cock in a long sweep of soft lips and broad strokes of his tongue. A swirling suck at the head before he kissed his way from navel to sternum. All this side worked over and worked over well; there was but one thing that yet needed doing. "Roll over, Soleil, so I might work on your back.
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Date: 2016-02-04 10:58 am (UTC)His breath caught in his chest, eyes sliding open again, as the mouth that had moments before left a bruise on the inside of each thigh in turn greeted his neglected cock. Partially aroused from the indirect stimulation of fingers and a very gifted tongue until now, the direct stimulation had him tightening to full hardness against the stroke of his tongue and the heat of his mouth. A soft moan rumbled up from the depths of him as Zevran merely greeted that part of him before diverting his attentions elsewhere and then withdrawing from him altogether.
If one could be drunk on desire Michel certainly looked the part, barely registering what it was Zevran was asking him, staring for a moment or so before responding to the command. Backs were usually central to massages, he was aware of this, but this was the first time Zevran would have him on his stomach and it gave him a brief pause. Exposing his back so carelessly was certainly an act of trust on his part and after a moment he decided to turn over another low moan smothered by the sheets this time as his erection found itself caught between the mattress and his stomach.
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Date: 2016-02-05 08:56 pm (UTC)Zevran meant to make the most of every lingering moment. Fresh oil applied to his hands he slid up to straddle the distracting, perfect curve of Michel's ass, pausing to grind his hips down so he might feel the leather and, in turn, be ground against the silken sheets. Hard and straining against the laces he indulged himself a moment with that friction, shuddering from the tips of his ears to the base of his spine before he recalled the purpose of this position.
First his hands, then his mouth- working out every knot of tension, every coiled muscle that he had been unable to reach while Michel lay on his back. Broad shoulders and firm muscle, the almost delicate curves of his spine, the soft nape of his neck- Zevran bent to his task to nip and nuzzle, kissing with gentle adoration along Michel's shoulders, following the long path down his spine from nape to base even as his hands worked out the tension he could find. The lower he went the further he had to slide down the backs of Michel's thighs, before he nudged them apart to settle there once again, biting a bruise into the small of his back.
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Date: 2016-02-06 09:14 pm (UTC)Such thoughts were banished the moment Zevran began rolling his hips causing Michel's own to undulate, actively surging up to meet the delicious thrusting and moaning softly against the sheets every time his hips jerked forward. The pressure was building slowly, his sex swelling with ever pass of silk and the pressure that accompanied being crushed into the mattress. He thought he might find it uncomfortable at the very least....uncomfortable in an unpleasant way. Any discomfort he felt came from that building mantra screaming "more," forcing his body to twist restlessly until the grinding stopped with a sigh from the Chevalier.
Closing his eyes again he tried to keep his mind off the pulsing heat between his stomach and the sheets, instead focusing on the path of those hands and lips. It was so easy to melt under the attention of Zevran's fingers, his body bending to his companion's purpose, drawing the occasional sigh and delicate shudder from him as the assassin nipped and nuzzled his way lower and lower, toes curling as he felt his companion settle between his legs again, teeth and lips against his skin making his back arch under the attention. Would he be able to find any sensation that compared to this if he looked for it? How far would he have to go? Would a chevalier be welcome in Antiva...why think of such things?
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Date: 2016-02-07 01:40 am (UTC)Mine.
Something he would not dare speak but something he could entertain for the brief hours they would spend with one another. Back, arms, legs seen to Zevran let his hands slide over the curve of Michel's ass, mouth dropping to the back of his thigh where the two met, and bit gently; working a new bruise into being there. Another and another on one leg, then the other, before he leaned back. "I am going to try something else that is new to you, I think- tell me if you find it permissible and pleasurable."
The almost chaste, gallant kiss he pressed to Michel's tailbone ought to be hint enough as to where this was going- and offer time enough for him to decide yes or no.
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Date: 2016-02-07 11:25 am (UTC)He yielded to it, though he would yield to nothing else and might not even remember this as yielding as boneless as he was. His fingers bunched into those sheets, flexing, twisting, anchoring himself to the bed as Zevran continued his attentions lower, more bruises following in the wake of that generous mouth. It was fortunate that Michel did not get dressed in a room shared with others, he would have a difficult time explaining away so many bruises that were obviously not the product of being clumsy--too small and too intimate were their placements.
Another soft moan followed by a visible shudder like a chill ripped up his spine as the assassin fixed his attention on his ass. It was curious, though he wasn't exactly new to some of Zevran's attentions down in the...southern regions...he still had to wonder a little at what his companion wanted to do. So, pushing himself up onto his forearms, Michel looked over his shoulder, his eyes unfixed as he watched Zevran kiss his tailbone...gallant and lewd...he was still attempting to find a word for it. It took a moment to dawn on him that the elf wanted to, well he could speculate on it, but even he had to confess that he did not believe the elf was so daring.
"I..." he blinked a few times so that his eyes might adjust enabling him to look at Zevran properly, or as properly as he could manage, "...if you are certain, if it is what you want to do, bel homme..."
He was not opposed, but he wanted to be just as certain that this was what Zevran wanted to do an not for the sake of completion
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Date: 2016-02-10 12:02 pm (UTC)Had he any manner of forethought Zevran might nave noticed how deeply he dove and how much of Michel he kept when he resurfaced from this strange, possessive place. They were not playing that game quite so well, now. They were not playing it at all- but something in Michel called to him all the same. Responded to how his hands stroked and his lips pressed in calculated affection. He had made no rules, there were no bindings. Not so much as a watchword so this wasn't- would not- be that.
No, this was something else. But it was something he would give- did give, without batting an eye, dragging lips and tongue down from tailbone to the ring of his entrance, tongue laving in a flat stroke across much as he'd massaged him gently with oil before daring to tease a finger within. Like this he could not watch Michel's face- but he recalled the way his head tilted back, the way he bit his lips, the angle of his brows, the flush of his cheeks- he could hear well enough and that? Would have to do. Provided he worked hard enough to prompt some of that sweet Orlesian sighing. Little by little he worked that knot of muscle into something loose and easy, licking around the rim, teasing the tip of his tongue inside when he felt there was enough give- pulling back to breathe cool air over skin made slick. Every dirty trick that came to mind save for biting.
He did not think that would go over well with Michel and thus, kept his kisses and the slow thrust of his tongue tender.
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Date: 2016-02-13 09:28 pm (UTC)This time his hands weren't bound so he was able to fold his arms under his head and grip the sheets, anchoring himself and mentally preparing himself for this new experience. It wasn't as though having Zevran between his legs was different, but the act was, it inspired those same feelings of vulnerability that Michel pushed down and yet he could move and get out if he wanted. He simply didn't want to.
He could already feel the rippling pleasure running down his spine at the seductive descent of lips and tongue, his body jerking once from surprise before settling against the bed and acquainting himself with this new sensation. Initially it was strange, a tongue was different from a finger or the swollen head of a cock rubbing against that tight ring of muscle. Growing used to it, however too very little time...warm, wet, soft and stimulating so many sensitive nerve endings. The heat Michel had been holding onto crept its way along his shoulders up to his ears, no doubt his face was getting warm as well, but it was pressed into the fold of his arms. His breathing became a shaky, wavering thing as Zevran's tongue continued in its attention.
The brief dip inside cause the breath to catch in the back of Michel's throat, followed by a soft contented noise, a lazy moan. When cool air struck him the muscled ring contracted and the Chevalier could feel the involuntary hitch of his hips as he pushed up...it was strange, but it felt just as good as he hands smoothing over his body had--slippery and familiar. He wouldn't have minded if Zevran got his teeth involved, if it was an act that got his bedmate off.
Deriving pleasure from biting would take training on Michel's part given his pain tolerance.
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Date: 2016-02-23 11:12 pm (UTC)Perhaps that was why he adjusted his grip on Michel's thighs, grinding him slowly into the silken sheets as much as he worked his tongue in slow and deep. Everything that earned a moan, everything that wrung out a soft sound he did again, harder, sharper, sweeter. He would have Michel biting his fist or calling his name before the moment had passed. His hands shifted from hips, trusting that Michel would continue the lazy grind, and moved his hands to the swell of Michel's ass so he might hold him open and vulnerable in the dim light with his thumbs. To lave the flat of his tongue over the sensitive ring, to give himself the room to truly fuck Michel with his tongue.
Any questions he might have had as to whether or not he enjoyed it? Were answered by the sounds spilling from the Chevalier's throat.
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