Call it what you want

Having never been beholden to pleasure before, the alchemist surprised even himself as a sort of whining growl slipped passed his lips as Sam's teeth grazed the skin of his neck. As if in some sort of delirium, the man's words sounded so far away compared to the tantalizing nearness and sensational loudness of his lips against Remi's neck. Eyes closed, breathing ragged, the hand around Sam's back slithered around to his side and up the book-makers ribcage. Slowly his fingers migrated north, all the while distantly aware of the fact that Sam's body was neither hot nor could, nor was it moving. His chest did not rise and fall with a neediness to match Remi's. And, as the alchemist's strong fingers came to a halt over Sam's chest, his palm flattened out against the pale skin. And he felt nothing at all. There was no heart beat; no pulse. What would you have me do? Closing his eyes again and forcing himself to think, Remi repeated the words in his mind. Was this inexperience talking? Or...if the man did not (could not?) feel as Remi did physically, was he asking because it wouldn't matter to him? Couldn't matter? As the seconds increased in number between Sam's last bite, Remi's mind slowly awakened even as his body thrummed with unsatisfied potential. "Sam—" He murmured, suddenly quite sure that'd he'd somehow taken advantage of this situation, but still too pleasurably-drunk to work out how. Still a touch breathless, he looked down where his hand still gently rested on the man's chest. "Can you not...do you not feel...?" REMI Traded my soul to free my mind, "can I go back to being blind?" I ask myself one too many times