[ OPEN ] Heart's on fire

[ombranera]

WHO: Character(s)
WHAT: Zevran Aranai's School for Rogues Who Can't Sneak Good and Want to Do Other Stuff Good Too.
WHEN: Wintermarch, all month
WHERE: Skyhold: Courtyard, Stables, Rookery, Battlements, etc
NOTES: Sass, Stealth, and Violence

He had mulled over the notion for a few weeks now; watching the soldiers take themselves to task, the warriors practicing as best they could; the mages training in their spells and thought- aside from combat (and even then there were tricks soldiers did not always think to teach) how was a rascal, a scoundrel, a rogue to learn more tricks? A well trained operation of any sort had well trained members of all sorts; the bruisers, the wizards, the rogues. Perhaps it was high time someone did something for the sneakier sorts.


[ Courtyard ]

Every lesson starts the same- a quick lap around the courtyard as fast as possible, vaulting over people and structures, running along the wall, making use of all the same skills that kept him alive all those years in Antiva City. For those that did not know them? The tricks came as a brief primer after the lap was finished- even a brief demonstration is offered. Afterward he runs them through a few training locks set into empty chests, some of the them wound with ringing alarms for the sake of practice. Trip the wrong tumbler? Off goes the alarm. After that it's stealth and pickpocketing. Sneaking about through a field of tripwires connected to more ringing bells and powder packets, a veritable labyrinth. Any bells go off, any powder on your person? You go through again. One of the training dummies has been re-purposed with bells and pouches on it- each pouch has a bell attached. They're timed and told to get as many as possible without ringing any bells. Ring a bell? Run a lap.


[ Stables ]

Here there is room enough for him to demonstrate proper trap production and dismantling. Every wound spring, every steel mechanism. They start with the basic bladed traps- though none of the blades are sharpened and none of the powder explosions hold more than dye. Once they've made traps that are...decent or satisfactory, Zevran walks them through detection and dismantling. Some of the practice traps have trick springs and triggers- if set off they'll be dusted with powder instead of losing their fingers. Later he goes through a list of common poisons and venoms to create and how to build up a tolerance for them. He does not provide them with samples this early on.


[ Battlements ]

Rappelling and dueling and improvisational combat and you! Here Zevran shows them how to climb, how to fall, how to make their own ropes when they've none of their own, how to throw a rappel to make it stay, how to haul it down, and how to dual wield on uneven ground. Demonstrations with Isabela and sparring with whoever wishes to take their turn happens throughout the day as requested; Zevran also covers grappling, breaking holds, and how to fight dirty. An honorable rogue is a dead rogue after all.


[ Wildcard ]

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[ombranera]

For once- that had not been a calculated action meant to encourage a lustful response. It had been exactly as he intended- a goodbye kiss to a lover he had truly enjoyed for reasons that had little to do with blood and a great deal to do with his behavior, his body, his voice. To say that he was surprised was something of an understatement- the ferocity of the kiss wrung a soft, wanting sound from him and it seemed as though all their talk had been given thought and forgotten in favor of this.

This crackling thing between them that he too felt, that he too enjoyed-

Just as quickly as he'd been swept up and all but ravished- he was set down and left bereft- staggering against the lost, eyes dark and breath coming in a shallow pant.

"I had never thought you cruel." He shouldn't have said that- he knew it as soon as the words were on his tongue yet he could not swallow them down again.

[disgracedchampion]

Michel had just shouldered his sword as Zevran dropped that on him and as much as the assassin hadn't been expecting his kiss, the Chevalier hadn't expected those words or the look that had accompanied them. It gave him pause, just long enough to allow his eyes to take in his breathless companion. Bel homme. He didn't know how such a vision could force him to act against every instinct that he knew was wise.

It didn't take him a heart beat, for a man one might praise for strength as opposed to speed Michel was wickedly quick. Zevran was scooped up in his arms again and nudged against the nearest wall, perhaps a bit more vulgarly than he intended as both of the elf's legs were hitched up and draped over his arms and he used the wall to brace both of their bodies.

Zevran's face was level with his, convenient as it made it easier for Michel to nudge his lips against a spot just behind the elf's left ear. He nipped him once, it was hard enough to be effective, but not enough to hurt, and followed up by tracing the line of his companion's ear with his tongue all the way to the tip where he nibble on the succulent lobe. He should have been more aware of their current setting, that even half shadows couldn't quite hide his accosting of the elf.

"I can be...but I'll always make amends..." Michel said, barely above a whisper against the shell of his companion's ear. He drew back just enough to allow for nose-to-nose contact, feeling so much energy passing between their bodies...this was a heat that Michel knew he would pine over quietly, "...shall I kiss you again?"

[ombranera]

He should take it back. Laugh it off as a joke. There's something there, an idle fascination, a desire to do more with what he has already toyed with and drawn out- he has never been so selfishly petulant about a lover taking their leave before. It was what it was. They took their pleasures where they could while life was good

To expect more was foolish.

Reckless.

And yet here he was, staring after Michel, pulse thundering in his ears and trying to fight down his reaction to so swift and bruising a kiss. No, if this was to end it would be on his terms. And tha was to be the chaste kiss that left them both with fond memories and nothing more. Not that hungry, devouring, aching thing Michel had struck him with like a coup de grace before leaving.

That was his job. Not Michel's.

Just so he was once again on him, holding him, carrying him and Zevran- rushing an assassin wasn't wise. He should have reacted violently, and yet he took it, knowing Michel would not do him harm. Even if for a long moment he'd been afriad of that very thing for overstepping. But pinned as he was against the hard wood of the wall just as he had that first time, he melted. tilted his head to the side to invite more of Michel's mouth, shuddering soft groans that were only for show in part. "Yes."

He swallowed, voice thick, nails catching in Michel's hair. "Yes."

[disgracedchampion]

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.

[ombranera]

Caught offguard and kept there by Michel's response, by his teasing, tender skill- not that he was anything like an innocent but seduction wasn't among a Chevalier's skills last he saw and to have it turned upon him so swiftly and mercilessly? He could not regain his footing.

The more frightening part was he found he did not wish to.

This was not the game he'd been playing, this was not the seduction he'd been planning, this was not anything couched in masks and walls and wisdom. He found himself swept up in Michel's passion, in his careful, almost sentimental devotion and found he enjoyed not worrying about how it was one felt or thought and how to coax out that reaction. A little longer, perhaps, and he would take the reigns once again. He would guide this somewhere safer, somewhere less blindingly intense. For now he clung to Michel with hands and thighs both, locked tight around him to hold himself up as he leaned into every press and graze, shivering under the assault. He wasn't accustomed to kissing like this- something more intimate than the press of mouths, something with emotion behind it.

Floundering and confused, but not so much to second guess this he yields. Opens to Michel's tongue and curls his own around, stroking what he could without moving, letting him take every inch he asked for. Giving everything requested and taking nothing back- letting himself be overwhelmed.

[disgracedchampion]

True enough, seduction and teasing were not his strongest gifts, but Michel also had a good memory and an even better teacher. He imagined if this was something that Zevran enjoyed dowing for others then on some level he must enjoy it himself, and it seems so. If the Chevalier wanted to take it further, he might have carefully hiked Zevran up on his shoulders, simple enough as he's worn armor in the past heavier than the elf's body. From there he would have plenty of access, he could teas open his companion's trousers, he could nose his groin playfully, and other acts of lewdness came to mind and with the position being acrobatic as it was there was a certain degree of excitement to it. Regardless he had a sense of occasion, and doing something like that while being stared at by horses and surprising passersby, now matter the dim lighting, was not what he had in mind. Kissing Zevran like this was shocking enough on its own.

Not that he was all that eager to pull away now that Zevran had given him access to his mouth, his companion yielding nicely to his lips and the curious dip of his tongue as he explored. After a while however his focus was on taking the very air from the assassin's lungs, no longer promoting the usual gentle softness, but that warrior's intensity, dripping with sultry passion, his tongue ever caressing Zevran's own attentively. It wasn't until he could feel the lightness in his own head did Michel pull back, all moist lips and warm breath that created a swirl of vapor between them as it met the chillier air. Of course he wouldn't allow Zevran's lips to chill in the meantime, tilting his head slightly he ran his tongue along the seam of his companion's mouth a few times as he finally lowered him back to the ground.

The kiss might have reached its conclusion and Zevran might have found himself on his feet, but Michel kept an arm securely around him, the intensity of his gaze still fixed on him for now as their lungs filled once more.

[ombranera]

Draw the breath from him Michel did indeed, with a near painful thoroughness that left him wavering when Michel pulled back. Feet on the ground and arms about his shoulders- Zevran had to remain on his toes if he wished to remain so close- and he did. Whatever this meant, whatever it might lead to- he did not care to think that far head. All he wished was for more of Michel's mouth, Michel's hands, he had not been so thoroughly or tightly wound from a simple kiss in years. Yet he stood, panting, lips parted and bruised red from the kiss, eyes dazed and half lidded- things he tried to be for others while attempting a seduction.

Things he simply had and felt now in truth. Something else he did not wish to examine.

Finding his voice took time, Zevran ran his tongue over his lips to taste Michel again, to wet them in the cold air, body pressed tight and subtly rocking against the Chevalier without thought. The only thing he wished for was more. Of. Whatever this was. Whatever it could be. To steal some of this intensity for a little while longer. "The hay loft."

It was no bed with satin sheets and warming oils- but it fit the spontaneity, the ravishing intensity of that kiss.

[disgracedchampion]

Michel was very accommodating of their differences in height, granted there were taller than he, but with Zevran on his toes just to be near him he couldn't help but to be a gentleman about it. It helped that Zevran's post-kiss expression enamored him and drew the Chevalier in, open and honest as it seemed to be, it grabbed on to his insides, thrilling him, the pins and needles sensation rolling down his spine as he held those dazed eyes with his own, filled with a feverish interest. He was riveted, chained to every little detail that caused even the slightest shift in expression--eyes, ear, brow, lips, tongue...how Zevran breathed, the almost imperceptible rocking that hummed with desire. He couldn't resist touching Zevran's body, hands coasting over him, outlining him and nothing more at the time being.

Wasn't he supposed to be saying his farewells? In the back of his mind he knew this was his intention, but something irrational kept him right where he was, especially now since the assassin knew quite a bit about him. Had suddenly no lies to protect in front of him, but this dangerous passion would certainly be the ruin of him. He knew it in his bones that this was not at all what Zevran wanted and yet Michel wanted nothing more than return what he had enjoyed with the elf in waves. Now.

Nodding with purpose at the suggestion, in spite of how it offered the barest amount of privacy, Michel readily went along with the suggestion. It was a wrench to draw away, but practical if they wanted to climb up into the hay loft, just long enough for Michel to pull Zevran up there with him so that he could engage his mouth again. It was becoming an addiction in much the same way that Antivan leather was becoming an addiction, or nibbling on the artful apex of his ear, watching how his extensive tattoos moved with his body taking on a life of their own...

[ombranera]

A goodbye kiss twisted into something more- Zevran can say it was not the first time this had happened, but he might also say that this? Was more knotted and tangled and intense than any other issue. Normally it was they clamoring for him, begging him to stay with every press of their lips and pass of their hands. Desperation did not suit him well, he did not care for it but this...whatever it was. It hooked into him deeper than he would like. It was rife with potential for complications and yet he clung, yet he followed and let himself be pulled up, pulled in. The hayloft was hardly private and he never truly cared what one saw of him and his lovers.

Though something went hot and sharp in his gut at the thought of someone else seeing this shade of the Chevalier. Of having to share it even for a moment.

That should have been reason enough for him to pull away, to try to beg off to do something, anything else- find a little space and settle himself so he was not lost quite so intensely to the force of Michel's affections- And yet he clung all the same, leaned back against the nearest wall to have the sensation of being trapped as Michel's mouth works over his own.

[ Continued here ]