there will be scrapes and sutures; viciousness and victory
It's this very disbelief that Ronin spends his days fighting to wipe away, however impossible the task. It's every gift, every surprise, every affectionate touch. It's the second proposals, the birthday parties, the let's carry our houseboat up to the Cordilleras. At this point even if he felt nothing but warm affection from his husband at all times, he's not sure he'd be able to stop. Ronin's life is as dedicated to Remi's as it had been the day they leapt through fire and shared a kiss under the stars, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
"Something to do?" he mumbles, the words shivering out in the wake of the breath skating down the back of his neck. Gently rolling back and into Remi's chest, Ronin glances up at his husband, exposing stubbled cheeks and messy hair to any shenanigans still going on. "Like what?" he wants to know, evidently wondering whether it's him. He'd like it to be him.
"Something to do?" he mumbles, the words shivering out in the wake of the breath skating down the back of his neck. Gently rolling back and into Remi's chest, Ronin glances up at his husband, exposing stubbled cheeks and messy hair to any shenanigans still going on. "Like what?" he wants to know, evidently wondering whether it's him. He'd like it to be him.
RONIN
