you've long seen your downfall, spelled out in another's bones
"Fishing pole yes, book absolutely not," Ronin mumbles, the Huntsman smiling and arching an eyebrow as he feels the telltale and ominous shift beneath the blankets, knowing by now what it means. And when the tentacles do slorp out to sneak around him, he doesn't shiver or cringe away. He has warned his husband enough that if he keeps teasing him then he might well end up with a tentacle fetish, and whilst it's more likely that he just has a Remi fetish at this point, it still stands.
Regardless, sinking his full weight down onto the other man, slowly and gently though it might be, he can't help but hum an indulgent moan against Remi's lips. "What kind of hands are the right ones?" he wants to know, though he's already sealing the Lullaby's lips with another kiss, relishing the feel of their bodies pressed together.
Regardless, sinking his full weight down onto the other man, slowly and gently though it might be, he can't help but hum an indulgent moan against Remi's lips. "What kind of hands are the right ones?" he wants to know, though he's already sealing the Lullaby's lips with another kiss, relishing the feel of their bodies pressed together.
RONIN
