whiskey, smoke and aces high

It's too bad. When did it get cool to be so sad? We're spinnin' backwards, did we all go mad?
Yeah, we're only human but w?'ve got hands and hearts and noses,
So stop and sm?ll the fucking roses

Their lips slide together not for the first time, though certainly, Remi has more of his wits around him this go around. The kiss is sweet and slow the way he'd hoped it would be. Even with the buzz of gin-soaked lips that dull some of his senses, his brain can't help but put song lyrics to his emotions as the slow flash of Ronin's lips against his cause wildfires to rage against the inside of his thighs.

Ronin sits, and despite Remi's self-proclaimed romantic nature, his first thought is whether or not Hallway plans some hanky-panky right here and now. Because as much as he wants those blue eyes and to hear all the ways his accent inflects around his words, there's no kiss in the world that compares to his piano. Still, there doesn't seem to be any recklessness in how Remi is pulled closer, and despite the final chords not having been played (this is going to bother him), he lets himself turn away from the keys and toward Mr. You-Know-They-Call-Us-The-Fighting-Irish-right?.

Remi's leg starts with a jolt as Ronin's fingers slide up his leg with nary a stop or go? on his lips, and the musician finds that the faded black jeans he wears are suddenly tighter than they were a moment ago. "Later?" He means to make a joke out of it, but his lips have absolutely no interest in puns. Even so, it's almost shyly that he turns slightly more toward Ronin, as if the man's initiative in coming over here and kissing him somehow wasn't confirmation enough that the other night wasn't a total write-off. Reaching out to put his hand almost chastely on Hallway's knee (it's more nervous than chaste, though they likely feel the same), he brings their lips back together with the same sort of intentional slowness his interrupted melody had possessed.

ThE RoCkStAr