there will be scrapes and sutures; viciousness and victory
Ronin doesn't like to be so hyperbolic as to describe something as perfect, but it's a difficult thing to avoid at times like this. A lazy morning, their bodies sunkissed and warm and hopelessly entwined, the soft hush of a waterfall in the distance the only evidence of other life around... it's as close to it as they can get, he thinks. And so, toes in the surf, the Huntsman responds with little more than a breathless smile to feel the delicious pressure of Remi's hips, simultaneously wishing they were even closer and also wanting to carve this moment into his memories forever.
"I thought you'd never ask," he whispers, braced easily over the Lullaby and leaning in to satisfy his demand without question. There's nothing rushed about his kiss, the part of his lips, the press of his tongue, and one hand frees itself to glide down the warm ladder of the other man's ribcage, aiming to sweep beneath his hips and thigh to anchor them together more thoroughly.
As makeout sessions go, this one is the slow burn of two kindred spirits. There's no hurry, no frenetic passion, but somehow Ronin likes it all the more for it.
"I thought you'd never ask," he whispers, braced easily over the Lullaby and leaning in to satisfy his demand without question. There's nothing rushed about his kiss, the part of his lips, the press of his tongue, and one hand frees itself to glide down the warm ladder of the other man's ribcage, aiming to sweep beneath his hips and thigh to anchor them together more thoroughly.
As makeout sessions go, this one is the slow burn of two kindred spirits. There's no hurry, no frenetic passion, but somehow Ronin likes it all the more for it.
RONIN
