[SE] the world can wait

RONIN

"Fuck, Remi..." The Bastion's name leaves Ronin's lips as both curse and encouragement, his eyes pressing shut as if he might be able to hold the inevitable at bay by depriving one of his senses. But everywhere they touch it's like an oilspill, rainbow slick with the wild stain of Remi's emotions, and it sets every nerve alight with pleasure that both is and isn't his own.

"We've got all morning," he grates out, as if that's some sort of consolation prize, but the movement of his husband's body against him has his own loose sense of control melting to nothing. Lips parting in a silent moan as Remi thrusts against him, infuriatingly controlled, it's only the arm braced across his chest that keeps Ronin from losing it entirely; instead, with wicked fingers stroking the hard length of him and with his husband's heart like a wardrum against his back, he stops fighting the swell of ecstasy starting to burn low in his belly.

"I love you," he pants, head turning to murmur the words against the shell of Remi's ear. "Don't stop - fuck, please - I'm gonna cum--"

soft spoken with a broken jaw
we step outside, but not to brawl

REMI

The words spill against his skin like flame, and Remi shudders as if scorched, his name reborn in Ronin's voice with such aching reverence that it leaves his breath stuttering and his restraint crumbling. Gods, to be loved like this, to feel it—all of it—wrapped against him, tethered by the pulse of his husband’s heartbeat thrumming hard against the inside of his wrist, makes everything inside him seize and burn.

Thrusting harder now, Remi still keeps himself reined in, his rhythm far from the brutal, punishing pace they both know he could unleash if he let himself go. This isn’t that. This is deliberate, a tension stretched out like warm taffy between them, unhurried and all-encompassing. He’s determined to pull both their climaxes over them slow and complete—not like a bucket of water upturned too fast, not violent or all-at-once—but like a blanket being drawn up over their shoulders, their ears, tucking them together in the heat of it. The kind of slowness that devours, that leaves them shaking not because it rushed to the end, but because it refused to. Because it made them feel every second.

Every shift presses Remi harder into the curve of his husband’s spine. The sweat between them makes their skin slide just enough to leave Remi wild with sensation, and he buries his face into Ronin’s neck as if breathing him in will ground him. "Cum for me," he rasps, voice low and full of hoarse desperation, the last threads of control fraying in his hands. And as he angles his hips to reach deeper, his grip tightening around Ronin’s cock with each stroke, his own climax begins to crest—hot and dizzying—curling at the base of his spine and dragging him forward like gravity itself. A broken moan tears from his lips, his whole body taut with the effort of holding back even a second longer, needing to feel Ronin come apart around him before surrendering to the same shattering end.

Who are you? They ask. Death?
Sometimes... I say. But not today

RONIN

The command from his husband's lips brings with it the sort of permission that has Ronin complying before his mind has fully caught up to itself. His hands drop to press over Remi's, one against his chest and the other squeezing hard around the grip on his cock, and he cums with a groan of relief and bliss that has him pressing back hard against the other man, as if to get more of him still somehow. The world turns to pulsing waves of static that has his breath seizing in his throat, and when Ronin finally does remember to breath again, it's with a shuddering gasp that has him collapsing back against Remi entirely.

He can do little more than simply exist there for a while, lungs burning, his soft panting filling the otherwise lazy silence that descends over them like a blanket. The Bastion is a line of fire against his back, heat and need something he desperately craves even after just having it. Letting his hands relax, as if realising he's still clutching at the other man, Ronin turns his head just enough to brush his lips against Remi's cheek.

soft spoken with a broken jaw
we step outside, but not to brawl

REMI

The moment Ronin lets go, Remi’s restraint finally frays to nothing. His hips press forward once more, slow and deep, and the sound that rips from his throat is somewhere between a groan and a plea. It’s not just release; it’s heat flashing white through every nerve, flooding his chest, his hands, his teeth where they scrape softly against Ronin’s shoulder. He moans his husband’s name like a prayer, the syllables breaking apart as he shudders and his orgasm shatters out from him, all that control melting away in an uncoiled rush of pleasure that leaves him bright and dizzy with love.

He stays there for a heartbeat, trembling against Ronin’s back, his breath ragged and warm at the shell of his husband’s ear. Then the inevitable softness that always follows overtakes him. Limbs heavy but eager, he slides his arm back beneath Ronin’s chest and draws him close, curling his body fully around the Knight until they’re one tangle of sweat and breath and heartbeat. His lips find the crook of Ronin’s neck and he exhales shakily into it, voice low and hoarse.

"Gods," he whispers, pressing a lingering kiss against Ronin’s skin, "I love you more than anything." The words tremble out of him, his heart still hammering against Ronin’s ribs, and in the quiet aftershocks his hands stay splayed and warm where they hold his husband, as if even now he can’t quite let go.

Who are you? They ask. Death?
Sometimes... I say. But not today

RONIN

Boneless and compliant as Remi curls around him, Ronin has no intention of going anywhere at all, and if he does try to pry the other man's fingers from his skin, it's only so he can press endless kisses to the calloused pads of his fingertips. "I love you more than anything," he echoes in a voice roughened by pleasure. "Let's stay like this for a bit."

No getting up to grab fresh coffee, no trying to get more comfortable, no fumbling for blankets. Ronin wants for nothing just as they are, and he closes his eyes to better feel the low thunder of Remi's pulse against his back. "Sometimes I feel sorry for the rest of the world," he rumbles after a while, a smile in his voice that he doesn't try to hide. "They'll never know what it's like to be loved by you. They're really fucking missing out."

soft spoken with a broken jaw
we step outside, but not to brawl

REMI

"As if we’re capable of doing anything else," Remi murmurs against the curve of Ronin’s neck, the words half-lost in a low, lazy chuckle. The thought of moving—even for coffee—feels sacrilegious right now, and so instead, he shifts slightly on the mattress, one shoulder rolling as a large tawny wing unfurls and drapes across both of them. It doesn’t hold the warmth of a blanket, not exactly, but it offers something deeper: a shield, a hush, a barrier of down and muscle between them and whatever the world might demand next.

When Ronin speaks again, Remi makes a quiet sound of inquiry—Mmm?—before the words settle in, and he huffs out a softer laugh against his husband’s skin. "That’s where you’re wrong, husband," he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of Ronin’s ear. "I think just about anyone could love you. Gods know how many secret crushes you have out there." His fingers flex gently against Ronin’s chest, reverent even in rest.

"But me?" The words come quieter, like they’ve been brewing somewhere deep. "I’m not so easy, and I’m certain only you could ever love me like this." His voice is steady but raw in its sincerity, every word etched with the weight of memory and knowing; of past mistakes, sharp edges, and the kind of devotion that has been tested and reforged a hundred times over.

Who are you? They ask. Death?
Sometimes... I say. But not today

RONIN

"Gods, you're so smart," Ronin half whispers as Remi stretches a wing across them like a makeshift blanket. Smiling to himself, one of his hands reaches out to brush gentle fingers across the long flight feathers, as if to relish the dim light that filters through their delicate softness. Letting out a long sigh that has his whole body relaxing all over again, he cocks an eyebrow at the Bastion's objection. Words like ur wrong, husband are normally the precursor to playful dares or being swatted with a tea towel, but Ronin gives Remi the grace of an explanation first.

And he's glad he waits, the Knight hissing some quiet scolding under his breath and shifting enough to turn in Remi's arms to face the other man. "I will never love anyone the way I love you," he whispers, the words more fervent than he expects them to be. "If people find you hard to love, it's because they're not good enough for it in the first place."

Leaning in, he steals a kiss from Remi's mouth as if he can take the words away while he's at it. "And for the record," he adds, mumbling into the kiss, "I find loving you to be the easiest thing in the world."

soft spoken with a broken jaw
we step outside, but not to brawl

REMI

Remi snickers softly, low in his throat, the sound more exhale than voice. As Ronin begins to shift, he unwinds just enough to let him move, unhooking his legs and loosening the careful grip of his arms. The wing stays draped, a curtain of gold and tawny brown catching faint morning light, but the rest of him shifts easily to accommodate the Knight, letting him turn without ever truly leaving his hold.

And though Remi could argue—could list all the reasons he is difficult, all the sharp edges and the weight he brings to anyone too close—he doesn’t. Not with Ronin’s eyes like that, not when the words strike some deep, aching chord that makes him feel like the man he used to be, like the alchemist who’d never once imagined he’d be loved like this.

His lips twitch into a soft, crooked smile, all boyish charm and overwhelming affection, and he doesn’t say anything at all until Ronin kisses him. He hums into it, long and low, then tightens the wing again around them both, pulling him close like something precious he means to keep. Their noses brush as he gives the faintest shake of his head, curls tousled between them.

"That’s likely because of all the head injuries you’ve had over the years," he murmurs, mouth still ghosting against Ronin’s, his smile now unmistakably smug. "It’s a miracle you remember who I am most days."

Who are you? They ask. Death?
Sometimes... I say. But not today

RONIN

Remi doesn't say anything and he doesn't need to; Ronin can practically hear the soft objections in the other man's mind as if they've been printed onto his bones. And he has rebuttals for every single one of them - foremost that that Remi isn't the man he used to be, that he's never stopped being that man for Ronin - but there's nothing he can say that isn't expressed even better through a kiss.

Slipping an arm around his husband as his wing tightens further around them, Ronin's fingers run carefully through the soft, downy feathers at the base of the appendage, a smile curling at his lips. "Those are big words for someone whose memories are like an old patchwork quilt," he quips back, kissing the corner of his mouth, then his cheek and, for good measure, his nose as well.

"It's a miracle either of us remember each other." He sits back a bit, grinning. "Or perhaps not. Even if I forgot everything else, I don't think there's ever any forgetting you."

soft spoken with a broken jaw
we step outside, but not to brawl

REMI

The brush of Ronin’s fingers against the base of his wing sends a shiver up Remi’s spine, subtle but unmistakable. That joint is more sensitive than most realise—not quite a weakness, but certainly a place where pleasure and tenderness meet in equal measure—and the Bastion hums quietly in the back of his throat.

Ronin’s quip earns a gasp, exaggerated and scandalised, as Remi presses a hand against his own chest like he’s been wounded. "Rude," he breathes, and the only appropriate punishment is to lean in and kiss his husband slow and deep, stealing the breath from both their lungs and grinning all the while.

When he finally pulls back, the boyishness returns in full: tousled curls, cheeks still flushed from earlier, and a dreamy smile like he’s seeing Ronin for the first time and the thousandth all at once. Propping himself on an elbow, he lets his gaze trail lazily across the Knight’s features, drinking him in like the sunrise over their horizon. "Oh, I don’t know," he murmurs, tone softer now, lower. "Could be fun, falling in love with you all over again." His fingers trace idle, affectionate patterns along Ronin’s hip, his expression unguarded and tender. There's not a doubt in his mind that it’d happen, either. In this life, the next...all of them. It’s only ever been Ronin.

Who are you? They ask. Death?
Sometimes... I say. But not today

RONIN

Rude but honest Ronin might have objected, but his mouth is soon busy doing something much better; clearly Remi's choice of distraction works a treat. And by the time he's released from the slow punishment of his husband's kiss, the Bastion isn't the only one looking boyish and dreamy. With his fingers gently tousling through the soft down at the base of Remi's wing and his body melting flush against the other man, Ronin raises his eyebrows as if imagining the how and when and where of it all.

"You say that like I don't fall in love with you a little more every day already," he says with a grin, his hand drifting further south now to curl around his lower back. "Which, yes, sounds corny as all fuck, but I really think it's true. I'll never get tired of it." Though he will agree that there's something to be said for toppling head over heels for the first time all over again; he almost wishes he'd paid more attention to it when it had been happening.

soft spoken with a broken jaw
we step outside, but not to brawl

REMI

Ronin’s words hit him like a well-placed arrow beneath the ribs; gentle in aim, devastating in effect. Even now, even after so many years, Remi's breath stutters in his chest, his eyes fluttering half-shut like he might blink away the way his heart suddenly swells to fill his whole body. It's not the corny sweetness of the words that does it, it’s the way Ronin says them, like they’re fact, like they’ve always been true and always will be.

Drinking in the lazy blue of Ronin’s eyes gone soft at the edges, crinkled just a little with the kind of warmth that always catches Remi off guard. Salt-dusted stubble across his jaw, still faintly flushed from earlier exertions, and hair—wild and dark and artfully mussed—like some painter's fantasy of what love should look like. It’s not just the beauty of him, though Ronin has always worn handsomeness like second skin. It’s the safety, the mirth tucked behind the smile, the way he’s never once flinched from all that Remi is and was and could be. It's the loyalty carved deep into his bones and the way his body fits against Remi's like a story they never stopped writing.

Remi nods, a hand splayed lazily against Ronin’s ribs where he can feel the rise and fall of every breath. "Mmm," he hums, fond and full of quiet awe. "I know just what you mean."

A soft shrug rolls through his shoulders as he shifts ever so slightly closer, nudging his nose against the Knight’s cheek. "But really," he muses with a grin curling at the corner of his mouth, "there’s probably no topping the way we first met properly. I mean—gods, Ronin—" and here he snickers, eyes gleaming with mischief as a blush bands across his nose at the memory of Ronin emerging naked from the ocean.

Who are you? They ask. Death?
Sometimes... I say. But not today

RONIN

Unable to help it - due to their proximity and Remi's magic, Ronin is awash with his husband's feelings whether he likes it or not - a soft laugh rumbles up in his chest, heat flushing across his cheeks. Were they not so thoroughly wrapped up in one another he might have childishly elbowed Remi for his trouble, but as it stands, instead Ronin leans in to rest his head on his husband's shoulder. "If I were half as wonderful as you make me out to be in your mind's eye, our lives ought to have been much more simple," he points out, voice a little muffled.

But he can't deny the Bastion's point about their first meeting, Ronin chuckling into the crook of his neck and shifting to drape himself further around the other man. "Listen," he purrs, "if you had not been secretly attracted to that sort of thing, it would have just been like any other day." As if it's Remi's fault for enjoying it and not Ronin's for going swimming bare ass naked.

"For what it's worth, though, I really enjoyed you showing me your sketches of women right after." He grins.

soft spoken with a broken jaw
we step outside, but not to brawl

REMI

Remi’s huff is full of disbelief and affection both, the sound vibrating softly between them. "That’s where you’ve got it backwards," he murmurs, the words warm against Ronin’s hair as he nuzzles into the thick dark flop of it, pressing his cheek there like he never wants to move. "You being wonderful is exactly why things have been complicated."

His arms tighten instinctively, like he could keep the world out by sheer force of will if he held Ronin close enough, and he chuckles, the sound low and golden with memory. "Gods, if it had been up to me, we’d still be holed up in the Cordillera." He grins against his husband’s head. "And we never would have done even half of the things that we did over the years if it wasn't for you."

That memory—crisp and sun-warmed, wrapped in sea salt and shame and wonder—makes Remi laugh again, this time boyish and unguarded. It still flusters him still, the thought of how easily he'd been undone that day, how badly he’d fumbled to appear unaffected. His face goes warm again, even now. "I was squirming so hard," he admits with a soft groan, dragging his hand lazily down Ronin’s back. "Trying not to look while absolutely looking. I thought sketching women naked was such a clever cover at the time."

He snorts into Ronin’s hair. "Honestly looking back, it’s a miracle I wasn’t thrown into jail for how obvious I was."

Who are you? They ask. Death?
Sometimes... I say. But not today