I shouldn't laugh, but I know I'm a failure in your eyes
"They look like me." Ronin smiles, peeping up at his husband with fae blue eyes that show his amusement whether or not Remi can see the rest of his expression. As a fallen star himself, why shouldn't all of them look the way he does? There are plenty of things more absurd in the world (like walking snowmen), and he lets the amusement carry him for a little until the telltale shift of feathers fills his ears and blocks his periphery.
Humming soft approval against Remi's skin, his fingertips skate through the downy feathers against his husband's back, as if he might be able to contain his wingspan just by wanting it enough. "They - and you - are beautiful," he informs him, turning enough to let his head loll agains Remi's collarbones - all the better to see the shield of one tawny wing as it flares out.
"They always make me feel safe," he confesses, shifting to reach out for the brilliant splay of pinions, brushing a warm and reverent hand across them.
Humming soft approval against Remi's skin, his fingertips skate through the downy feathers against his husband's back, as if he might be able to contain his wingspan just by wanting it enough. "They - and you - are beautiful," he informs him, turning enough to let his head loll agains Remi's collarbones - all the better to see the shield of one tawny wing as it flares out.
"They always make me feel safe," he confesses, shifting to reach out for the brilliant splay of pinions, brushing a warm and reverent hand across them.
RONIN
