[SE] show me what it's like

Now the ashes of tomorrow sing your sad song

Remi chuckles as their hands clasp, letting himself be drawn down and in with Ronin like it’s the most natural place in the world to be. "We can always try to tempt them with breadcrumbs," he muses aloud, wings folding and vanishing as his feet find the uneven stone once more. "A little picnic. A little murder. Very romantic."

At Ronin’s comment about spores, Remi sighs dramatically, planting one hand against his chest as if wounded. "You know," he says, all theatrical lament, "I’d still like a proper explanation for how spores made it onto the list of things you’re willing to put in your mouth, but my tentacles remain suspiciously absent."

He grins, just a little too pleased with himself, and it only deepens as Ronin’s hands begin their careful inventory. "Actually," Remi murmurs, raising a brow with feigned confusion, "I think something did nick me. Somewhere." He hums, tilting his head, as though trying to remember. "I’d be very grateful if you’d help me find out just where."

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

gladiator, picked a fight with the gods, i'm a giant slayer

"Paired with the rotting things, I'm starting to think I don't know what you like at all when it comes to romance," Ronin teases, casually too close and, for once, utterly uninterested in the picnic basket sitting somewhere behind them. Unable not to laugh at the other man's theatrics, he raises his eyebrows and leans in to brush his lips across Remi's cheek, allowing his next remark to linger against the shell of his ear.

"Well, it is Leafchange," he croons. "And we've been together ten years this year. Maybe it's time I was a little more open minded." As he speaks his hands stray to the Bastion's shirt, unbuttoning it with clever fingers that are much more careful than the mind commanding them. "What kind of husband would I be if I said no to such a reasonable request?"

Pressing a real kiss against Remi's cheek, Ronin withdraws to push the shirt back over his shoulders, baring his chest and torso for thorough examination. And it's uncertain when the Knight decided he needs to use his mouth to conduct such an exam, but honestly, who knows? Medicine is evolving all the time.

bone shaker, dominator, freight train, wreckin' ball, i'm the gladiator

RONIN

Now the ashes of tomorrow sing your sad song

Remi smirks, tipping his head just slightly to catch Ronin’s breath along the shell of his ear. "Gods forbid the demigod of death and former devotee of Ludo might have a few unorthodox tastes," he murmurs, the words curling with amusement even as his pulse skips with warmth. "Next thing you know I’ll be requesting a candlelit dinner in a graveyard." Which, honestly, probably wouldn't have anyone batting an eyelash.

But the humour slips into something softer as Ronin continues. At the mention of being open-minded, Remi raises his brows in surprise—but his breath catches despite himself, the affection blooming behind his ribs too real to joke about. Even after all this time, after all the years and scars and battles and quiet mornings, Ronin peeling his shirt away still feels like the first time.

A sigh slips from him as the Knight’s lips brush his cheek—fond, content, edged with something more. He doesn’t offer a word of critique as Ronin’s mouth begins its thorough (and, admittedly, questionably medical) inspection. Instead, Remi's hands settle lightly against Ronin’s hips, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips as he murmurs, "Your thoroughness is appreciated."

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

gladiator, picked a fight with the gods, i'm a giant slayer

"A candlelit dinner in a graveyard is the most tame thing you've suggested so far," Ronin points out, smirking the words against his husband's chest as he drops to one knee to continue his extensive search for injuries, however small or minor they might be.

"And if that's what you want, who am I to say no? Arguably there'll be less people around to get on my nerves in a graveyard." Huffing out a laugh against the jut of Remi's hip, he sits back and reaches for the Bastion's hand so he can check each and every digit for grievous wounds.

"Though I could always fight a ghost if one tries to flirt with you," he reasons, sounding entirely too serious about that particular quip, but he soon silences himself by pressing kisses to each of the pads of Remi's fingertips.

And if he pays very dilligent attention to his index finger to the point where his tongue curls briefly around it? That's called being meticulous, Remi.

bone shaker, dominator, freight train, wreckin' ball, i'm the gladiator

RONIN

Now the ashes of tomorrow sing your sad song

Remi grins, the expression all teeth and trouble as he watches Ronin drop to one knee like he was undertaking something sacred rather than a medical examination. "Maybe we should host our anniversary in a graveyard, then," he muses, voice smooth as satin. "That way if you end up murdering one of our guests, we’ll already be in the right place to bury them." His sea-glass eyes gleam with amusement, but there’s no mistaking the fondness threaded through it.

Gods, it's maddening to try and remain still and composed even as Ronin takes his hand and begins kissing each finger with a tenderness that borders on intoxicating. But when that warm tongue curls around his index finger, Remi’s breath stutters in his throat, a quiet sound pulled free before he can trap it. Heat curls low in his belly, sparking down the bond like an invitation, or a plea.

He swallows, trying (and failing) to keep a straight face. "Find anything worrying yet?" he asks softly, the words just this side of breathless. His hand remains where it is, obedient in Ronin’s grasp, though the corner of his mouth twitches with restraint because gods if seeing the Knight on his knees wasn't the sort of thing the Bastion could endure for long.

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

gladiator, picked a fight with the gods, i'm a giant slayer

"Now we're talking," Ronin says through a crooked grin, his words murmured lovingly against the back of Remi's hand. "Caters to your morbid tastes, gives me ample room to bury any bodies, and no one will be surprised if there's screaming." He bounces his eyebrows; no matter what kind of screaming it might be, wink wonk.

Returning his attention to his hunt for injuries, he feels the flush of heat and need through all the places they touch, and given that every part of Ronin is like dry kindling this season, all it takes is one stuttered breath by his husband for it to catch. "Well," he says, his voice low and just above a whisper, "I thought perhaps there was something here-" and on here he reaches out to press his fingers against the front of Remi's pants, "-but maybe I should leave that until later to investigate."

For now, with a final kiss to the Bastion's fingertips, Ronin rises smoothly back to his feet and draws him closer, ensuring his shirt has been pushed away from his shoulders so he might examine them with further kisses. (Medically approved kisses, of course).

bone shaker, dominator, freight train, wreckin' ball, i'm the gladiator

RONIN

Now the ashes of tomorrow sing your sad song

Remi grins, and there's something wicked and delighted in the flash of his teeth. '"Perfect. I’ll book the venue the moment we get home," he murmurs, fingers brushing lazily down Ronin’s chest.

But then the Knight's fingers press against him and it’s like every thought in the Bastion’s head scatters like startled birds. He inhales sharply, a hiss curling through his teeth, wings twitching faintly behind him as arousal flashes bright and unbidden across the bond. His hips shift involuntarily against the touch that vanishes far too soon, leaving him stranded somewhere between relief and absolute longing.

The kisses to his shoulders, gentle and warm as they are, do little to soothe the ache now blazing low in his belly. Remi exhales shakily, hands tightening at Ronin’s hips as his forehead tips forward to rest lightly against the Knight’s.

"Ronin," he breathes, voice threaded with laughter and want and utterly exasperated affection. "Far be it for me to tell you how to do your job.." One hand curls at the back of Ronin’s neck, the other drawing slow circles against his lower back as his hips—perhaps accidentally—press forward, seeking more contact. "But isn't heat and swelling a sign of infection?"

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

gladiator, picked a fight with the gods, i'm a giant slayer

"Hmm?" Glancing up at the sound of his name, his hands having been making a very thorough examination of Remi's back, drifting down onto his hips and cupping his ass by the time the other man speaks, it's with reluctance that he swaps kissing for speaking. "Oh, my. I think you might be right." Grinning wickedly and pressing back against the roll of Remi's hips, his own arousal is very much apparent at this point as well.

"Fine - I suppose I can take a quick look now. Just in case, you understand." Winking and leaning in for a quick and lusty kiss, the Knight's fingers drag down the length of his husband's body as he descends back to his knees - both of them, this time - and starts to unbuckle Remi's belt. "Maybe something bit you," he says with faux concern. "What's that old remedy about sucking the venom out of a bite?"

bone shaker, dominator, freight train, wreckin' ball, i'm the gladiator

RONIN

Now the ashes of tomorrow sing your sad song

Ronin's kiss has heat blooming through Remi in waves; rising like steam, curling beneath his skin, threatening to pull his knees right out from under him. It’s only Ronin’s steady presence, his hands on Remi’s hips and the warm press of their bodies, that keep the Bastion from melting into a puddle of lust-struck laughter and longing, because fuck if moments like this don't make Remi feel like the fumbling man he once was.

As the Knight sinks back onto his knees with a hunger disguised as concern, Remi’s fingers slide into his hair—dark and unruly and already curling from the humid air and the work of their hunt. His grip is gentle, though there’s a tremble running through him now that suggests his usual control is thinning by the second. And though it’s Ronin who’s meant to be fidgety in this season, Remi finds it harder and harder to stay still as deft fingers undo his belt. His hips shift restlessly, the tension mounting like the pressure of a storm behind his ribs.

"Mm, it’s possible," he murmurs distractedly, voice rough-edged with desire, ['say]"something might’ve bitten me." His other hand trails down to lightly curl at Ronin’s shoulder. "Though I was a little distracted at the time—what with my husband slicing up the sky like a godsdamned avenging angel."

He huffs a breathless laugh, catching Ronin’s eyes. "Then again, knowing how my magic works, there’s every chance you were the one bitten, and I’m just the one suffering the side effects for it."

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

gladiator, picked a fight with the gods, i'm a giant slayer

"Oh, well that's even worse," Ronin says with an exaggeratedly sharp intake of breath, shaking his head and writing guilt into his expression even as he slides the belt free of its buckle and plucks open buttons as if they aren't straining against the fabric. "I can't have you getting bitten on my behalf while I sit and do nothing about it. I promise," he says solemnly, tipping his head back to gaze up at his husband, eyes half-lidded and smouldering, "I won't stop until I hear you scream my name to let me know I've done enough."

Punctuating the remark with a wolfish smile, the heat in Ronin's gaze is one he entirely intends to replicate with his mouth, and finally he's able to tug Remi's pants down from around his hips, freeing him from their aching confines. "Mm, you know, I think you might be right," he says, wrapping a hand around the base of his husband's cock and squeezing, slow and hard. "Something is definitely going on here."

bone shaker, dominator, freight train, wreckin' ball, i'm the gladiator

RONIN

Now the ashes of tomorrow sing your sad song

As soon as Ronin frees his erection, the air seems to thicken—charged, humming with all the things they’ve never needed words for. A cool breeze skates over Remi's heated skin, but it's nothing compared to the slow burn behind Ronin's gaze or the weight of his palm, curled deliberately around the base of him.

Remi’s breath catches again—sharper this time—as his hips shift of their own accord, drawn to the warmth, the contact, the promise in every teasing movement of Ronin’s fingers. Normally he might allow the Knight his games, might endure the featherlight touches and wolfish patience, but Leafchange always unsettles things between them. It turns restraint to kindling and want into wildfire.

He covers Ronin’s hand with his own, stilling his husband's teasing grasp. With his other hand, he brushes his knuckles against the line of Ronin’s jaw, his fingers curling just beneath his chin. "Enough," he whispers, low and rough and aching. The word slips between them like a fuse catching flame, his eyes wide with adoration, with hunger, with the dizzying weight of ten years of wanting and still not having enough. And whether or not Ronin heeds him immediately, it no longer matters because it's not entirely in the Knight's control anymore.

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

gladiator, picked a fight with the gods, i'm a giant slayer

As Remi's composure finally cracks, his voice little more than a soft growl in the hazy air between them, Ronin can't help the satisfied smile that creeps across his lips. "This right now, that you're feeling," he says sweetly, his husband's fingers hooked under his chin, his cheeks flushing with need and arousal, "is exactly what it's like for me every second of this season. And just imagine if someone else was here right now, taking my attention away?" He hisses in a sharp breath. "Maddening."

But enough, Remi has said, and Ronin might enjoy his own teasing every now and then, but he's far from cruel about it. Tipping his head forward as if to encourage the Bastion's fingers to plunge back into his hair, the Knight doesn't waste a moment more. Squeezing his husband's cock a second time, this time he punctuates it with the slick heat of his mouth, taking as much of Remi as he can in one breath. Humming around him as if this is a gift he's given himself, his hand strokes in tandem with the movement of his lips and tongue, leaving the other man's hips free to thrust forward and fuck his mouth, if that's what he chooses.

bone shaker, dominator, freight train, wreckin' ball, i'm the gladiator

RONIN

Now the ashes of tomorrow sing your sad song

The hiss that escapes Remi’s lips is sharp and shuddering, carved from surprise and the sudden clarity of Ronin’s words. He knows what Leafchange does to his husband—but hearing it like that, framed in the stark ache of jealousy and want, coils something possessive and wicked deep in his belly.

But before he can comment on it, Ronin’s mouth is on him. Remi cries out abruptly—louder than he intends to—raw and grateful and already unraveling. The heat, the pressure, the way the Knight moves is too much and not enough all at once. Remi's fingers tangle in Ronin’s hair, holding him firm, guiding him as his hips roll forward in deliberate, desperate thrusts. It’s a rhythm they've edged toward before—carefully, teasingly when the moment was right—and here and now on an island that has tried to take everything from them and lost, there’s no reason to hold back.

Every motion sings of trust, of long-earned permission, of hunger that’s never dulled despite years of having each other in every way imaginable. Throwing his head back, Remi moans again, thicker now, breath catching between syllables that carve out the Knight's name. "I want you to get me close," he pants, voice hoarse with need. His grip tightens slightly, holding Ronin steady as his hips move forward. "And then I want you to fuck me."

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

gladiator, picked a fight with the gods, i'm a giant slayer

It would be my pleasure, Ronin purrs through the Attuned bond since his mouth is very much occupied, the words flush with dark desire and desperate want, his tongue curling around the head of Remi's cock as his hips thrust forward, gagging him on everything he can give. Every moan is like permission and release all on its own, especially at Leafchange, especially on Starfall, and the fact that the sound of his husband's pleasure is free to echo, loud and unrepentant, into the cavernous stone overhead - that's almost Ronin's undoing all by itself.

Still, there's a lot to be said for knowing one another so well, and even more to be said for a combination of magic to let him coax and edge Remi as close to climax as he dares. Ronin has long forgotten to breathe by the time those first tell-tale crackles of prismatic fire spark through their bond, and it's with suddenly bruising hands that he grips Remi's hips, guiding him forward in a hard, lingering thrust before ushering him back.

"On your knees. Turn around," he pants, voice rough and grating, and he sits back on his heels to unfasten his pants.

bone shaker, dominator, freight train, wreckin' ball, i'm the gladiator

RONIN