And Zevran could not know how priceless it was to Michel that he would offer up such raw honesty. It was priceless, something to horde away in a lockbox among treasures like a miser just might. It wasn't often the elf trusted him with this kind of openness...and it spoke to the Chevalier...closer...more intimate than the brush of fingers caressing him inside and out.

Did Zevran know that Michel was already lost? He had been for quite some time, perhaps he'd shown it on some level...but it was like The Grand Game...intrigue, seduction, scandal--without larceny and assassination.

"There is still a game we've yet to play," Michel dipped down and nipped the end of his companion's nose, close enough to see all of the perfect angles that made up his face, "I've had a want to explore your body slowly...to see what weakens your knees...reduces you to delectable shivers....burns beneath your skin."