i've hidden all my fears in a book for only my eyes to see
Remi’s skin burns with every stroke, with every purposeful grind of Ronin’s hips and in all the places the Knight's fingertips press against his thigh. "Fuck, Ronin" he echoes low and hoarse, the word barely a breath between clenched teeth. The exquisite evenness of Ronin’s pressure—the maddening restraint—makes it worse. Makes it better. With Leafchange soon to turn the world wild around them, Remi knows how easily his husband could lose himself to instinct. That he hasn’t is devastating; it keeps Remi locked beneath him, mindless with want, driven to the edge by every inch of calculated control.
His back arches beneath the firm grip on his thigh, grass crushed beneath his spine. Talons tease the edge of his fingertips, curling into the dirt for something to hold onto as pressure builds, sharp and spiralling. Feathers snarl through his curls like they’re clinging on for him as his wings itch against his shoulder blades, almost as if his body thinks it might diffuse the building pressure in his spine if there was more of it on offer.
"I love you," Remi gasps—once, then again, until it becomes a mantra that trembles in the space between their bodies. He’s panting now, his whole body tensed and focused on the rhythm, the friction, the maddening control of Ronin’s hands. It builds from the base of his spine, coils tight in his belly, and when he breathes, it’s a warning and a surrender all at once.
"Gods, I'm gonna cum," he manages before he lifts his hips hard, the motion sending him over the edge with a full-body tremor. One hand clamps around Ronin’s thigh, the other buried in the earth, clawed and shaking, hips still chasing every last pulse of pleasure.
His back arches beneath the firm grip on his thigh, grass crushed beneath his spine. Talons tease the edge of his fingertips, curling into the dirt for something to hold onto as pressure builds, sharp and spiralling. Feathers snarl through his curls like they’re clinging on for him as his wings itch against his shoulder blades, almost as if his body thinks it might diffuse the building pressure in his spine if there was more of it on offer.
"I love you," Remi gasps—once, then again, until it becomes a mantra that trembles in the space between their bodies. He’s panting now, his whole body tensed and focused on the rhythm, the friction, the maddening control of Ronin’s hands. It builds from the base of his spine, coils tight in his belly, and when he breathes, it’s a warning and a surrender all at once.
"Gods, I'm gonna cum," he manages before he lifts his hips hard, the motion sending him over the edge with a full-body tremor. One hand clamps around Ronin’s thigh, the other buried in the earth, clawed and shaking, hips still chasing every last pulse of pleasure.
THE
BASTION
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
