there will be scrapes and sutures; viciousness and victory
Ronin sinks into the kiss with a passion that almost surprises himself, as does the flush of heat he suddenly feels on his cheeks, the way his pulse is audible in his ears. He knows it's partially the luxere in him to blame, but if the Star couldn't find himself a slave to his instincts here with his husband, when is he supposed to be able to let go? Even as Remi's fingers slip beneath the mud to press them closer, Ronin is greedily getting his fill of every part of the alchemist he can get his hands on.
I am so lucky, he counters, shifting to sit up as best he can if only to run his hands along Remi's thighs and over his hips. His husband may as well be carved from marble these days, such is his physique, and yet Ronin knows all the places where he might be made pliable and gentle.
Running his tongue along Remi's lower lip, it's with the scent of earth in his nose and the strange, loud stillness of the swamp all around that Ronin draws back. "You're beautiful."
I am so lucky, he counters, shifting to sit up as best he can if only to run his hands along Remi's thighs and over his hips. His husband may as well be carved from marble these days, such is his physique, and yet Ronin knows all the places where he might be made pliable and gentle.
Running his tongue along Remi's lower lip, it's with the scent of earth in his nose and the strange, loud stillness of the swamp all around that Ronin draws back. "You're beautiful."
RONIN
