REMI
the bastion
Darling, you never could scare me
Set me ablaze like you do
Set me ablaze like you do
Remi lets out a laugh, breathless and helpless in equal measure, because of course he should have known better than to think this was going to be anything but immediate, consuming, inevitable. The sound catches in his throat halfway, cut off by the gasp that shudders from his chest as Ronin shifts beneath him, their bodies aligning with such perfect, maddening friction that his teeth clamp down against the Knight’s collarbone, not hard but sharp with the effort of restraint.
His hips pull back instinctively, chasing that edge without falling off it, and that’s when he feels the hands at his waist tighten, steadying and claiming him. The second Ronin eases into him from behind and Remi stumbles forward with a strangled, cursing sound that’s barely language at all, his spine bowing with the surge of sensation. It steals the air from his lungs, cracks something open inside him that was already straining under too much heat and pressure. A moan tears loose before he can stop it, rough and involuntary, and he thrusts back into the projection even as he pulls out of the man beneath him, caught in the impossible, glorious rhythm of being filled and filling in turn.
He sinks forward again, hips rolling, control slipping with every stroke as his mouth stutters across Ronin’s throat. "Ro—Ronin—" he gasps, the name mangled between pleasure and disbelief, his brain flaring static as sensation chokes out everything else. Being surrounded like this—held, claimed, consumed—feels like being caught in a tide he never wants to escape.
His hips pull back instinctively, chasing that edge without falling off it, and that’s when he feels the hands at his waist tighten, steadying and claiming him. The second Ronin eases into him from behind and Remi stumbles forward with a strangled, cursing sound that’s barely language at all, his spine bowing with the surge of sensation. It steals the air from his lungs, cracks something open inside him that was already straining under too much heat and pressure. A moan tears loose before he can stop it, rough and involuntary, and he thrusts back into the projection even as he pulls out of the man beneath him, caught in the impossible, glorious rhythm of being filled and filling in turn.
He sinks forward again, hips rolling, control slipping with every stroke as his mouth stutters across Ronin’s throat. "Ro—Ronin—" he gasps, the name mangled between pleasure and disbelief, his brain flaring static as sensation chokes out everything else. Being surrounded like this—held, claimed, consumed—feels like being caught in a tide he never wants to escape.
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.
