RONIN
With a huff of breath the huntman is redirected, bloody fingers buried in the moss and dirt, a fever hot body pressing against him. His head lolls back, words half forming only to be stolen by the sudden vice of an arm across his chest, by a grip adjusting his hips, and his shuddering intake of breath cuts off entirely as the alchemist enters him. Ronin groans a note of raw need, arced against Remi like a bowstring, and the Lullaby's thrusts overwhelm senses already so finely tuned to all that's happening around them.
Whether Ronin is pliant in his husband's grip on purpose or not is best left to the imagination, but in the twilight of the morning the Star is completely and utterly taken in any way Remi wants him. Even without further stimulation he can already feel the itch in the soles of his feet that tightens up the backs of his legs and in the base of his spine. Pressing back into Remi, another moan grates from his throat that warns about how close he is to the edge of all this.
Whether Ronin is pliant in his husband's grip on purpose or not is best left to the imagination, but in the twilight of the morning the Star is completely and utterly taken in any way Remi wants him. Even without further stimulation he can already feel the itch in the soles of his feet that tightens up the backs of his legs and in the base of his spine. Pressing back into Remi, another moan grates from his throat that warns about how close he is to the edge of all this.
soft spoken with a broken jaw
we step outside, but not to brawl
we step outside, but not to brawl
