the baffled king composing hallelujah
His lips and tongue are busy, but his response sings through his emotions nonetheless; feverish impatience fighting with a need to savour, to take his time, to enjoy this as much as he can. Granted, as Remi surges forward and Ronin's breath catches in his throat, every single one of those thoughts wipes clean from his mind. "I love you too," he manages, just about, before his lips crash against the alchemist's and everything turns to static behind his eyes.
Never afraid of being vocal (another reason why they shouldn't share the houseboat with anyone), it's only the kiss that stops his encouragement from echoing off the walls and out the windows. Ronin's fingers wrap and tighten in Remi's curls, every roll and buck of his hips slow and decadent, even if the angle causes sparks race up the backs of his thighs. "Fuck," he gasps, wishing there were some way of having more of this, if that's even possible.
Never afraid of being vocal (another reason why they shouldn't share the houseboat with anyone), it's only the kiss that stops his encouragement from echoing off the walls and out the windows. Ronin's fingers wrap and tighten in Remi's curls, every roll and buck of his hips slow and decadent, even if the angle causes sparks race up the backs of his thighs. "Fuck," he gasps, wishing there were some way of having more of this, if that's even possible.
