"You do not even know my work." Though he could probably guess at it, considering the coin and veritable plethora of injuries he had treated. But Jack is a clever elf, clever and soft and kind in ways that are fun to enjoy now and then. Zevran is fairly certain if he was exposed to this sheer depth of caring for an extended stay, well. He may lose his mind.
Here, though, there are better things to lose. His lips glance across jack's and trail up his jaw to his ear lobe, fingers combing back the fine strands of copper there to get to the more sensitive tip.
"I know some of it. I can see all these tattoos you've put down. I've- mm." He opens to the lips seeking his ear, skin goosepimpling anticipation to have such exquisitely tender skin vulnerable to not only lips but teeth as well. He has more than a sense that Zevran is a dangerous man, but the fingers combing through his hair have never been anything but mindful and deliberate in their efforts to bring him pleasure. And talented. Quite talented. "-I've seen a few of your other talents."
"Oh ho?" His tongue darts out to wet the sensitive skin, blowing softly after to twist another sweet shiver from Jack. The young, hopeful ones are always so responsive but Jack? Is another level entirely. He simply cannot be anything but responsive to anything- a joke, a touch, an exciting tale. But Zevran's favorite responses are when they are like this, press closed and simply exploring.
"Mmhm." He shivers palpably at the flash of wet, hot to cool, turning to Zevran fully and letting his fingertips trace up under his shirt. Every angle and curve of him is sweet submission and readiness, cant of his head to bow of his shoulders to arch of his back. They've danced to this tune enough times before to have built a store of memories, and Jack's voice thrums with the pleasure of one in particular. "Dab hand with a lockpick, aren't you?
"Mmm, do you wish to revisit that?" Jack had been beautiful, twisting and aching and keening under his hands with every twist and flick of the slim pick of metal inside him. Had Zevran been a weaker man he'd have tied him to the bed to repeat the performance until Jack was a boneless, senseless mass. But now would be just as precious. In fact- he drags his teeth along the tip of Jack's ear as his hand slides out to his toolbelt, set aside for the moment, and draws one out of it's slim sheath.
"Yeah." It's a breath and intention and a bit of a plea, and Jack shifts on the low, narrow bed with a shuddering gasp at the sparking drag of teeth. Almost too much, so close to that edge that it's perfect instead, just like Zevran's always been an expert at. Once they're clear he draws back to nuzzle the angle of his jaw, kiss the soft line of his throat as he swings astride his hips. A position they're both more than familiar enough with, and one that gives him the freedom to shuck his shirt, baring freckle-dappled shoulders and a chest untouched by ink or scar.
"Yes what, gazza?" He murmurs, looping an arm around Jack's waist to support him as they move. It's a subtle thing, the dip of his voice, the weight to his hand, the slow trace of the tip of that pick from the curve of Jack's ear to his jaw o his lips and ever downward. Along his chin and the side of his throat, following the line of his sternum and the slender arcs of his ribs, dipping into his navel.
"Yes Ser." He leans enough weight into the strong arm to bow and watch the little slip of metal trace down the length of his own body, toward the bulge rising in his trousers as Zevran takes his sweet time working his way there. His voice hushes, but there's a deliberate effort to speak properly, too. To speak as he might be bid by a man of status. "An' it please you, Ser."
"Good boy." It's not as soft and sweet and breathless as Jack could be- but they are only beginning. Part of the allure is anticipation and if there is one thing that he can weave like a tapestry- it's anticipation. The faintly curved tip of the pick dips and glides into the lacing of Jack's trousers- loosing the knot and releasing the tension bit by bit, giving just enough pressure to tease the trapped erection below. "It pleases me well, Gazza."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
antivanleather) wrote2015-06-05 09:11 pm
no subject
Here, though, there are better things to lose. His lips glance across jack's and trail up his jaw to his ear lobe, fingers combing back the fine strands of copper there to get to the more sensitive tip.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject