RONIN
the white knight
Ronin will never tire of this; never tire of the sudden fervor and need in Remi's hands, the way his breath grows ragged or his pupils blow wide, of every pulse of scorching arousal that licks between them. It could be dawn or midnight for all he cares now, and though the Knight's lips try to form words, they dissolve into a broken moan at the press and grind of his husband against him - against both versions of him. "Fuck," he whispers, while his duplicate is already busy unbuckling Remi's belt from behind.
"I guess I'll be the one laying in the daisies, then." Smiling helplessly and dragging his shirt over his head at last, he all but tumbles back into the bed of flowers now, intending to draw Remi over him to pin him into the soft grass. The duplicate is quick to follow, lips pressed to the back of the Bastion's neck, hands roaming ever lower until he can help to strip him of the rest of his clothes.
"We'll see who's more of a talker by the end of this, mm?" Ronin whispers, arching his back beneath the other man as if to encourage him to get a move on.
"I guess I'll be the one laying in the daisies, then." Smiling helplessly and dragging his shirt over his head at last, he all but tumbles back into the bed of flowers now, intending to draw Remi over him to pin him into the soft grass. The duplicate is quick to follow, lips pressed to the back of the Bastion's neck, hands roaming ever lower until he can help to strip him of the rest of his clothes.
"We'll see who's more of a talker by the end of this, mm?" Ronin whispers, arching his back beneath the other man as if to encourage him to get a move on.
i'll get over it
i just gotta be dramatic first
i just gotta be dramatic first
