REMI
the alchemist
What good are hands
if there's nothing that they hold
if there's nothing that they hold
With Remi's magic as it is, Ronin's words are nearly eclipsed by the bright bolt of gold that seems to shine out from him. Like the emotional equivalent of the way the Huntsman's dazzle looks, Remi's senses are utterly bathed in light, such that he feels the need to shy away just as one might narrow their eyes against strong sunlight. Just as he's unable to shade his eyes with his hands, so too is Remi unable to dim Ronin's brilliance; all that's left to do is meet the blindness that's sure to follow head-on, and with an eager smile.
Hardly needing to be told once much less twice, it's with the ease and familiarity of years together that Remi makes quick work of adjusting Ronin's hips as well as his own that the only friction between the two is entirely intentional on his part. Lowering his head and pressing his open mouth against Ronin's chest, it's with teeth pressed against the Huntsman's collarbones that Remi tightens his grip on the table lest it gives out beneath them as he presses his hips forward.
The tightness is maddening at first, and against the reckless desire it conjures in the alchemist, newly healing wings sprout from his upper back and fan out around Ronin as if to claim him anew. Splinters form beneath Remi's claws but the strings of pain that sing up his arm only add to the symphony of pleasure screaming out from his core. "Gods I love you." He pants through bared teeth before adjusting his grip on Ronin's hip and thrusting slowly again.
Hardly needing to be told once much less twice, it's with the ease and familiarity of years together that Remi makes quick work of adjusting Ronin's hips as well as his own that the only friction between the two is entirely intentional on his part. Lowering his head and pressing his open mouth against Ronin's chest, it's with teeth pressed against the Huntsman's collarbones that Remi tightens his grip on the table lest it gives out beneath them as he presses his hips forward.
The tightness is maddening at first, and against the reckless desire it conjures in the alchemist, newly healing wings sprout from his upper back and fan out around Ronin as if to claim him anew. Splinters form beneath Remi's claws but the strings of pain that sing up his arm only add to the symphony of pleasure screaming out from his core. "Gods I love you." He pants through bared teeth before adjusting his grip on Ronin's hip and thrusting slowly again.
And what good are hearts
if you bury them all alone?
if you bury them all alone?
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
