REMI
the bastion
Darling, you never could scare me
Set me ablaze like you do
Set me ablaze like you do
Remi draws in a sharp breath through his nose, the sound hitching audibly as Ronin pulls back just enough to leave him deliciously lightheaded. His hands stay where they are—one tangled in dark hair, the other fisted briefly in fine fabric—as if his body hasn’t quite caught up to the retreat. The stars aren't just in the sky anymore; they blur at the edges of his vision, swimming somewhere behind his eyelids, and not even his demigod stamina can rescue him from the disorienting high of that kiss.
He grumbles against his husband's lips, his voice breathless and thick with longing. "I’ve never been a patient man." The words are half-pout, half-confession, and fully laced with the kind of need that makes restraint feel like a personal insult. As Ronin starts to part from him properly, Remi makes a dramatic sound of protest, still caught in the delicious fog of it all. "You know," he mutters, trailing reluctantly after, "this feels needlessly cruel. Especially considering it’s our anniversary."
And yet he does follow, feet dragging slightly, expression all wounded dignity and want. But just before they step back into the glow of the torches and the gentle hum of the crowd, Remi lets his fingertips brush lazily against the back of Ronin’s hand, though the touch is anything but lazy itself. The pulse he sends through it is heated and shameless, a wordless, lurid caress that speaks in the oldest language they share—want, love, and the quiet threat of what’s to come once patience finally runs dry.
~FIN
He grumbles against his husband's lips, his voice breathless and thick with longing. "I’ve never been a patient man." The words are half-pout, half-confession, and fully laced with the kind of need that makes restraint feel like a personal insult. As Ronin starts to part from him properly, Remi makes a dramatic sound of protest, still caught in the delicious fog of it all. "You know," he mutters, trailing reluctantly after, "this feels needlessly cruel. Especially considering it’s our anniversary."
And yet he does follow, feet dragging slightly, expression all wounded dignity and want. But just before they step back into the glow of the torches and the gentle hum of the crowd, Remi lets his fingertips brush lazily against the back of Ronin’s hand, though the touch is anything but lazy itself. The pulse he sends through it is heated and shameless, a wordless, lurid caress that speaks in the oldest language they share—want, love, and the quiet threat of what’s to come once patience finally runs dry.
~FIN
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.
