the baffled king composing hallelujah
Ronin tries and fails not to glance up at his husband as he spots the pixui emerge from the foliage, sleek and golden and gorgeously dangerous in all the ways that still causes the Knight's heart to skip a beat when he remembers the soul that burns beneath the shift. His blue eyes are made all the darker by the shadow of branch and leaf, and he tips his head back ever so slightly to peer up at Remi when, at last, they face each other as themselves; nothing more, nothing less.
"Well," Ronin says softly, devouring every movement the Bastion makes, his knees falling apart as if to welcome the other man between them, "given that you were it, and I am here, and you," he pauses to lean into the warm and calloused fingers that caress his jawline, "have caught me, I would say that makes you the winner of this particular chase." Grinning, he reaches up to press his hand against the back of Remi's palm, his head turning so he might kiss the lines of fate that criss-cross through it.
"So tell me," he implores, voice muffled by his kisses, "what is it you want, and what is it I deserve?"
"Well," Ronin says softly, devouring every movement the Bastion makes, his knees falling apart as if to welcome the other man between them, "given that you were it, and I am here, and you," he pauses to lean into the warm and calloused fingers that caress his jawline, "have caught me, I would say that makes you the winner of this particular chase." Grinning, he reaches up to press his hand against the back of Remi's palm, his head turning so he might kiss the lines of fate that criss-cross through it.
"So tell me," he implores, voice muffled by his kisses, "what is it you want, and what is it I deserve?"
