[SE] and it goes like this

Now the ashes of tomorrow sing your sad song

The bite of the cold against skin certainly not made to endure it, is absolutely nothing compared to the nearly tangible anticipation Remi feels in the seconds it takes Ronin to sink down against him. When he does, Remi mumbles unintelligible curses against his husband's back, lips parted and teeth bared as jewel-toned colours of desire swirl out from where the alchemist's fingers are wrapped around his husband's cock. Pulling his head back with a delayed jerk that his teeth might find the soft skin of Ronin's earlobe, Remi thrusts his hips up, eliciting another incoherent grunt of satisfaction.

"Fuck, Ronin." As always Remi's frenzied lust is nearly swamped with affection for the Huntsman, leaving Remi to perilously walk the line between wanting to dance his tongue between Ronin's lips while also wanting to close his finger's around his husband's throat and sink his talons into his flesh. "—you—" He starts to say, but his mind is overwhelmed with too many sensations such that the remainder of what might have been a plea, or praise, or curse, ends in nothing more than a pant.

the lullaby

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)