there will be scrapes and sutures; viciousness and victory
"For you?" Ronin raises his eyebrows, a crooked slant to his smile (his teeth being probably the only clean thing about him right now). "I've got all the time in the world for you." And he means it, too, especially as his husband is forced back enough for Ronin to smear him with more mud, not that he notices with the sudden pressure and friction that starts to build courtesy of the Lullaby's writhing around.
It is easy, Ronin feeling a lightness in his chest that he hasn't felt in a long time, one that he always remembers in moments like this when it's just he and Remi and the world in all of its ridiculousness. And as Remi speaks, his hips grinding down again, Ronin's lips part in a gasp that turns into a warbled cry of outrage thanks to a very interested tentacle in his ear.
"You are such a twat," Ronin growls affectionately, lurching up out of the mud with the singular intention of stealing a kiss.
It is easy, Ronin feeling a lightness in his chest that he hasn't felt in a long time, one that he always remembers in moments like this when it's just he and Remi and the world in all of its ridiculousness. And as Remi speaks, his hips grinding down again, Ronin's lips part in a gasp that turns into a warbled cry of outrage thanks to a very interested tentacle in his ear.
"You are such a twat," Ronin growls affectionately, lurching up out of the mud with the singular intention of stealing a kiss.
RONIN
