saturday's sons

REMI

The rules of the game. Remi counters silently, and though it's difficult to mentally huff—go on, try—he does his best to communicate his disapproval if only because he'd been winning. I think you want to stop because you knew I was just going to keep beating you.

Far beneath Remi's tentacles begin to tow the pair towards the edge of the pool. "Perhaps if you'd attended Ronin Taliesin's Charm School, you might have said something like If I'm the winner that makes you the prize." The Bastion whispers wickedly, his lips barely brushing against his husband's before pulling back just enough to make out the glisten of sweat on Ronin's tanned brow and the way his eyelashes were clumping together over impossibly blue eyes.

Ferrying them finally toward the edge of the pool, Remi lets one hand slide from his husband to brace against the stones as he absorbs his tentacles back into his legs. "Pity there's no flowers around. I guess we've come all this way for nothing." He murmurs, though the suggestive rasp in his tone suggests he wasn't quite ready to simply hop out and go home.

If you were church, I'd get on my knees
Confess my love, I'd know where to be

Code stolen from Queen Sky