[ CLOSED ] Midnight Rendezvous

[ombranera]

WHO: Zevran Arainai, Michel de Chevin
WHAT: Discussing that Delivery
WHEN: Shortly after this conversation
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Swearing, discussing of murder and gold, emotions.

It'd been heated, their last conversation. Zevran had settled somewhat after Michel confessed and fled- then Luciano and everything that came with suddenly being a parent. Then a stab of visceral fear that is so new to him and all the more terrifying for it. He had not reacted, probably, in the best way. But they are overdue a conversation, he and Michel.

Far overdue.

It is late and Luciano is sleeping peacefully next to Dogrhen, perhaps a little more Fereldan than Zevran would like but- it is so amusing an image he cannot help but let the pup persist.

Comments

[disgracedchampion]

"I'll remain a virgin in such regards...but yes...let's get to know one another first and if things ever decide that they want to be less confusing and you're not too bruised and exhausted...then unreservedly," Michel couldn't forget some of the things that had felt good, but he could resist, "I'll call you when I return to the Appraoch...and when you leave this place and still think you'll have need of my skills..."

Well he had but to ask.

[ombranera]

"It stopped being about your skills some time ago, Michel. It simply became about...you. Which was frightening for me for many a reason but I no longer quite have the luxury if hiding behind old excuses." More honest than he'd like to be, but- he said he would be more open. That he would try. As a father he spends most of his energy on his son, truly. He cannot spare any for pretending otherwise. "I will let you know. It should be by the end of this month or a few weeks into the next."

It was a terrible idea, the urge that came next. One he ought to ignore. One he should. One he...could not quite manage to tamp down entirely. Zevran stepped around, leaning up enough to press his lips against Michel's cheek.

That was friendly enough, wasn't it? Safe. "Take care, Soleil."

[disgracedchampion]

Michel had to stop himself from reaching out and bracing his body against the nearest wall. Those were unexpected words and they left him feeling...unexpectedly weak, more so than his travels from the Approach to Orlais and from Orlais to Skyhold had. No matter what he said to Zevran, he was damned for him still. All he could do was nod wordlessly as he attempted to process what the man was saying.

And then Zevran came around, Michel wasn't certain what he was going to do...shake his hand, pat him on the shoulder? He expected a number of things, but he didn't expect to feel those lips against his cheek. Soft and smoother than silk, as smooth as he remembered, such a gesture sent his blood hammering through his veins. He could say honestly to himself that he'd never reacted this way toward anyone else.

"Your lips must rub a little tender, kissing a man with stubble," which was why he turned his head just a bit so that Zevran's lips weren't against his cheek, but his lips as the Chevalier spoke, "au revoir, bel home."

He lightly mouthed Zevran's upper lip before drawing back in case temptation got the better of him, "I will be in touch."

[ombranera]

He should have expected the turn, expected the way so soft and light a brush of capped lips against his own would have his breath catch in his throat. Should have known to hold himself against the lean that bid him follow after Michel even as he withdrew.

Friends. Without the sex, without the masks. Trying to be kinder, to be easier- and yet they seemed determined to undermine one another's resolve, even inadvertently.

Zevran sank back on his heels before he could reach for more, licking his lips for a familiar taste of trouble. Words failed him for a moment and his skin burned even in the dark with his flush. "I will likely be awake."

The child kept him up at odd hours, after all. Before he could do anything else that was terribly foolish he leaned back against the door to his rooms, watching Michel leave with a fragile sort of hope in his eyes.

For what? He could not say.

[disgracedchampion]

The only thing truly stopping Michel from getting a hand up between Zevran's thighs and pleasuring him until he was soft, sated, and limber enough to tuck carefully into bed was the infant on the other side of the door. It kept his resolve in check, but it didn't stop him from glancing back over his shoulder and catching that look and for a moment it caused a stutter in his step. Like he was somehow abandoning him...but that was silly.