RONIN
the white knight
Despite the lack of urgency, Remi's body brings Ronin's to life beneath every stroke of fingers and brush of lips, the warm heat of him something searing even in the steam of the springs. "Well thank goodness for that," he says, the words formed around a smile even as his eyes slip shut to better enjoy the dance of Remi's mouth across his throat. The gods know that his version of creative can very well cause as many problems as solutions, but, well, the Bastion knows what he married.
Macrame mankini here we come.
Ronin's fingers tighten in the other man's hair to feel the fingertip bruises he knows will blossom in the wake of Remi's touch along his hips, his breath huffing out in an impatient exhale as they are drawn tantalisingly flush with one another, simultaneously too close for polite company and yet nowhere near as close as he'd like to be. "If I remember correctly," he whispers through a wicked grin, "that first kiss was entirely inappropriate since only one of us was available at the time. And I still couldn't help myself."
Macrame mankini here we come.
Ronin's fingers tighten in the other man's hair to feel the fingertip bruises he knows will blossom in the wake of Remi's touch along his hips, his breath huffing out in an impatient exhale as they are drawn tantalisingly flush with one another, simultaneously too close for polite company and yet nowhere near as close as he'd like to be. "If I remember correctly," he whispers through a wicked grin, "that first kiss was entirely inappropriate since only one of us was available at the time. And I still couldn't help myself."
