without you things go hazy

walked out this morning and i wrote down this song.
i just can't remember who to send it to

Every kiss is torture, and it's a restraint that they both know well, this itching in Remi's fingers that wants to take hold of Ronin's head and shove him down between the alchemist's thighs. He manages, barely, by grabbing hold of the bedding as he moans stifled encouragement, the sounds of which are cut off by hasty sips of air with every kiss pressed against his skin.

The palette of Remi's emotions are muddled and hazy at best; the spectrum of love and boyish adoration competes for space against the more riotous colours that comprise his passion and need. His want of the Star is heedless of rationality, and it swamps over everything like thick burlap placed over acrylics, forcing the colours to take its shape.

As soon as Ronin's lips are around him, Remi's back arcs away from the bed as his hips rise. Not even trying to muffle his greedy moan of relief, the alchemist's eyes roll back in his head as the back of his neck presses into the pillows. There's pressure in the back of his throat that can't decide if it wants to be a laugh or a moan, but it fills Remi with a lightness he hasn't recalled feeling for months. "Gods I love you," is all he can think to say, tongue-tied and overcome with satisfaction and need as he is.