RONIN
As his name tears from Remi's throat to echo into the darkness, Ronin is well and truly lost to instinct and pleasure and the crash of his own climax. Having been close to begin with - even godly strength and stamina is nothing (and he means nothing) to the feel of being able to take a presence like the Lullaby - to hear him cry out into the night is really all he needs. Thrusting hard into the other man, his free hand - taloned and razor sharp - slams against the boulder to brace himself, scoring deeply into the stone and creating a few hairline cracks.
Barely noticing the way his body finally grows still, awash with ecstasy and exhausted by the effort, Ronin is left panting hard into the crook of Remi's neck, fingers and toes fizzing with static, his mind a white hot poker that's been plunged, crackling, into oil. "Gods," he whispers, voice hoarse, his words broken by the way he tries to catch his breath. "Gods, I've never-- I... fuck, love. Are you alright?"
Barely noticing the way his body finally grows still, awash with ecstasy and exhausted by the effort, Ronin is left panting hard into the crook of Remi's neck, fingers and toes fizzing with static, his mind a white hot poker that's been plunged, crackling, into oil. "Gods," he whispers, voice hoarse, his words broken by the way he tries to catch his breath. "Gods, I've never-- I... fuck, love. Are you alright?"
soft spoken with a broken jaw
we step outside, but not to brawl
we step outside, but not to brawl
