REMI
the bastion
Darling, you never could scare me
Set me ablaze like you do
Set me ablaze like you do
Remi meets Ronin’s gaze with a wicked gleam in his eye, delight flickering like firelight in the twist of his grin. The way his husband’s eyes trace the line of his suit—the slow, unhurried hunger in it—makes Remi straighten just a touch, shoulders rolling back in that unconscious, catlike way that offers more instead of less. "I would never tempt you to abandon our own party early," he murmurs, voice honeyed with mischief. "But if, say, the gin runs low...or the guests suddenly require more cups, or forks..." He leans in, close enough that his lips nearly brush Ronin’s. "I’d be happy to accompany you aboard the Northaven to fetch more." The wink that follows is shameless, and so is the way his fingers ghost briefly along the small of Ronin’s back.
But as the conversation shifts and Vanya’s name returns to the air between them, Remi’s smile softens—but so too does some of its warmth. His expression still holds affection, still listens without flinching, but there’s a visible shift in the set of his jaw, the flick of his brows as Ronin repeats her words. "Bold," Remi says, raising both brows as if evaluating a piece of art. "Telling your long-ago love you’ll always love them...at their anniversary party." His tone is dry, more amused than wounded, though there’s a slight tension beneath it. And yet he draws Ronin in without hesitation, sliding both arms around his husband’s waist and holding him fast. "Still," he murmurs, the affection returning now in full, deep and deliberate, "I can’t say I blame her. The man you were ten years ago was quite the catch."
His smile returns, slower now—private. "Which is why I proposed the moment I had the chance." One hand slides up to cradle the back of Ronin’s neck, fingers threading gently into his dark hair, anchoring him with a touch that’s all certainty and no demand. And then Remi kisses him—slowly, sweetly, with all the gravity of vows spoken long ago and kept still. It will always be you, for me.
But as the conversation shifts and Vanya’s name returns to the air between them, Remi’s smile softens—but so too does some of its warmth. His expression still holds affection, still listens without flinching, but there’s a visible shift in the set of his jaw, the flick of his brows as Ronin repeats her words. "Bold," Remi says, raising both brows as if evaluating a piece of art. "Telling your long-ago love you’ll always love them...at their anniversary party." His tone is dry, more amused than wounded, though there’s a slight tension beneath it. And yet he draws Ronin in without hesitation, sliding both arms around his husband’s waist and holding him fast. "Still," he murmurs, the affection returning now in full, deep and deliberate, "I can’t say I blame her. The man you were ten years ago was quite the catch."
His smile returns, slower now—private. "Which is why I proposed the moment I had the chance." One hand slides up to cradle the back of Ronin’s neck, fingers threading gently into his dark hair, anchoring him with a touch that’s all certainty and no demand. And then Remi kisses him—slowly, sweetly, with all the gravity of vows spoken long ago and kept still. It will always be you, for me.
I'd walk over coals in my bare feet
If that gets me closer to you
If that gets me closer to you
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.
