the things we hold are always the first to go
"Always," Ronin murmured against Remi's neck, his smile audible in his voice. He glanced up just in time for his shirt to melt into feathers, the trick earning a crooked grin and a quiet laugh. A laugh that was cut off with a sharp inhale of pleasure as finally, skin to skin and without the troublesome barriers of clothing, he felt like he could enjoy Remi's presence properly.
Remi's hands wandered and left trails of cold fire in their wake, Ronin arching against the alchemist and groaning appreciatively into the crook of his neck. The hunter nipped at the soft flesh there gently, his hand dancing up Remi's torso to cup his cheek and gaze down at him. Silently he leant in to let their lips meet again, everything about his kiss both frustrated and wanton and yet knowing that they had the privilege of taking their time.
Remi's hands wandered and left trails of cold fire in their wake, Ronin arching against the alchemist and groaning appreciatively into the crook of his neck. The hunter nipped at the soft flesh there gently, his hand dancing up Remi's torso to cup his cheek and gaze down at him. Silently he leant in to let their lips meet again, everything about his kiss both frustrated and wanton and yet knowing that they had the privilege of taking their time.
