Michel might not have been a believer even if Zevran had attempted to laugh it off, not the best at the Game, certainly, but there were things that stuck out to the Chevalier. He would always wonder why the assassin had said it if he hadn't meant it, even as a castoff thing, something that implied just a little bit more than that would have forever itched at the back of his thoughts. Fortunately he wouldn't have to wonder about it as they were, Zevran pressed up against him as he had been before, though even Michel had to admit that last time he hadn't been quite so vulgar about it. Passionate, certainly, but with his body pressed between Zevran's legs and his companion trapped up against a wall, considering where they were, even he might reflect on his behavior.
Later.
He might reflect on a great many things later including whether or not he would or even could walk away from Zevran after such an expression and what he would do to any feelings that happened to emerge. He could always keep them to himself, crush them deep down like he'd done with most things that were secret, dangerous, personal--he was good at this. He wouldn't deny himself those feelings, but expressing them out loud could be managed, if he moved further. Michel had been completely honest with Zevran when he said he would do nothing by halves...and so he would face it if the moment came.
For now, at least, he still had Zevran's consent and Michel had been a fool for far less, so with a smile that could only be felt against the perfect turn of his elven ear, Michel slowly peppered his companion with light kisses along his jaw and chin, finding his lips as deftly as if they'd belonged to the warrior himself. Soft lips, impossibly soft, Michel mouthed the bottom one gently, carefully, almost like an armature's gentle massage. He moved carefully to nip at the corners of his companion's mouth before finally tracing his tongue against the seam of Zevran's lips. There was always that ever present politeness in the undercurrent of his desires.
Inside of his mouth Michel's enthusiasm presented itself, pushed by the hands in his hair and every little sound Zevran made. He worked his jaw into it, teeth colliding as he sought to push and explore as deeply as he could, tongue ever greeting the assassin's in a very intricate duel only to stray for a moment to caress the roof of Zevran's mouth, trace his teeth, explore every venue while trying to extract as much breath from his as he could manage. Even the taste of Zevran would burn itself carefully into the Chevalier's memories.
no subject
Later.
He might reflect on a great many things later including whether or not he would or even could walk away from Zevran after such an expression and what he would do to any feelings that happened to emerge. He could always keep them to himself, crush them deep down like he'd done with most things that were secret, dangerous, personal--he was good at this. He wouldn't deny himself those feelings, but expressing them out loud could be managed, if he moved further. Michel had been completely honest with Zevran when he said he would do nothing by halves...and so he would face it if the moment came.
For now, at least, he still had Zevran's consent and Michel had been a fool for far less, so with a smile that could only be felt against the perfect turn of his elven ear, Michel slowly peppered his companion with light kisses along his jaw and chin, finding his lips as deftly as if they'd belonged to the warrior himself. Soft lips, impossibly soft, Michel mouthed the bottom one gently, carefully, almost like an armature's gentle massage. He moved carefully to nip at the corners of his companion's mouth before finally tracing his tongue against the seam of Zevran's lips. There was always that ever present politeness in the undercurrent of his desires.
Inside of his mouth Michel's enthusiasm presented itself, pushed by the hands in his hair and every little sound Zevran made. He worked his jaw into it, teeth colliding as he sought to push and explore as deeply as he could, tongue ever greeting the assassin's in a very intricate duel only to stray for a moment to caress the roof of Zevran's mouth, trace his teeth, explore every venue while trying to extract as much breath from his as he could manage. Even the taste of Zevran would burn itself carefully into the Chevalier's memories.