even my darkness shines for you
"Oh you don't do y--Remi," Ronin yelps at the cold paint that covers one of his nipples, though far from cringing away, he only presses himself closer as if in revenge. More than happy to hassle the other man in his attempts to lovingly paint patterns along his body, only as the Bastion reaches around to grasp his ass does he realise the problem. And at that, Ronin can't stop his laughter from ringing around this clearing.
"You bastard," he quips, reaching down to grab at a tube of paint himself (it's the yellow, gold flecked one), squirting a generous amount of the colour onto his palm and trying to smear it over whatever part of Remi he can get hold of. Granted, he does also look between himself and the canvas, kombucha girling about it for a moment. "It could be," he reasons. It could be the front of him, if they are acrobatic enough.
"You bastard," he quips, reaching down to grab at a tube of paint himself (it's the yellow, gold flecked one), squirting a generous amount of the colour onto his palm and trying to smear it over whatever part of Remi he can get hold of. Granted, he does also look between himself and the canvas, kombucha girling about it for a moment. "It could be," he reasons. It could be the front of him, if they are acrobatic enough.
the
WHITEKNIGHT
