Ronin
welcome to the playground, follow me
tell me your nightmares and fantasies
tell me your nightmares and fantasies
"Then figure it out later," Ronin concludes, even as Remi shifts to half pin him against the bed. He's ready for the wendigo, melting into the kiss delivered against his lips. His arms slip around the other man, one hand running down the length of Remi's back, the other wanting to grasp for blond curls but finding only patchy stubble instead. Not complaining either way, it's with the eager press of his tongue and legs that want to lock around the other man's waist that he indulges in the touch he's been craving.
As for what he wants, Ronin isn't sure even everything would be enough. He wants to fall asleep and wake up and still have this; he wants to take and be taken, he wants soft touches and for Remi to hold him by the throat again; he wants conversation murmured against salt slick skin and limbs heavy with ecstasy and exertion. And like an addict with a wallet full of cash, he wants it over and over until he has to stop, not out of a lack of desire, but necessity.
As for what he wants, Ronin isn't sure even everything would be enough. He wants to fall asleep and wake up and still have this; he wants to take and be taken, he wants soft touches and for Remi to hold him by the throat again; he wants conversation murmured against salt slick skin and limbs heavy with ecstasy and exertion. And like an addict with a wallet full of cash, he wants it over and over until he has to stop, not out of a lack of desire, but necessity.
sink into the wasteland underneath
stay for the night, I'll sell you a dream
stay for the night, I'll sell you a dream
