and on to the glory at my right hand
"Mmm..." Ronin hums agreeably, despite Remi being absolutely correct in his consideration that the Huntsman hasn't got a clue what sweet nothings are being purred through the other man's throat. It doesn't matter either, not with the heat of the Lullaby's body and the mischief in his hands telling the story for him. Shifting a little to make it easier for Remi to untuck his shirt (tut tut, he's a Commander, you know), Ronin glances up just in time to be caught in a green gaze.
His lips part to respond, but they're similarly captured only a moment later, and he melts into it not with the clumsy enthusiasm of a teenager this time, but with the love of a man who has it all and knows how lucky he is. Always, he murmurs in return, even though it's not strictly a response to thank you. It seems to fit nonetheless.
His lips part to respond, but they're similarly captured only a moment later, and he melts into it not with the clumsy enthusiasm of a teenager this time, but with the love of a man who has it all and knows how lucky he is. Always, he murmurs in return, even though it's not strictly a response to thank you. It seems to fit nonetheless.
ronin
