the things we hold are always the first to go
A raw shudder rippled through Ronin at the voice that came whispering into the shell of his ear, the breathy syllables making him clench and melt simultaneously. Now, he wanted to add, to punctuate everything he had already pleaded for, as if that would somehow end the delicious torture inflicted upon him. The ex-captain was not usually one to beg, but as with all things, his husband was the exception to the rule. As the vines loosened enough for him to get a better hold of them, he just about managed to tighten his grip when Remi thrust forward and Ronin - slick and hot and ready - lost any ounce of concentration that didn't involve this.
A low groan raked from his chest and throat as he found every part of him suddenly and deliciously filled, his cock twitching in Remi's firm grip. His knuckles white around the vines, the hunter let his head loll back, lips parting in a silent 'oh' that wanted to be anything but. The alchemist rocked his hips forward and Ronin felt his toes curl, matching the other man's rhythm to buck into his ready and waiting hand.
The pace set, it was Remi who would draw every gasp, every sigh, every loud moan from Ronin's lips - Remi's name that fell, stuttered in varying degrees of intelligibility as smouldering heat began to tighten at the base of his spine, down through the back of his legs, up through the hard length of his arousal.
Weeks. It had been weeks, and they'd barely touched, and now - now, after being teased so relentlessly, it was no wonder that Ronin didn't stand a chance of lasting. Moaning into Remi's next thrust, the hunter bit down on his lower lip as if to focus. "R...mi--" he tried. "--can't, I'm go... to...!"
A low groan raked from his chest and throat as he found every part of him suddenly and deliciously filled, his cock twitching in Remi's firm grip. His knuckles white around the vines, the hunter let his head loll back, lips parting in a silent 'oh' that wanted to be anything but. The alchemist rocked his hips forward and Ronin felt his toes curl, matching the other man's rhythm to buck into his ready and waiting hand.
The pace set, it was Remi who would draw every gasp, every sigh, every loud moan from Ronin's lips - Remi's name that fell, stuttered in varying degrees of intelligibility as smouldering heat began to tighten at the base of his spine, down through the back of his legs, up through the hard length of his arousal.
Weeks. It had been weeks, and they'd barely touched, and now - now, after being teased so relentlessly, it was no wonder that Ronin didn't stand a chance of lasting. Moaning into Remi's next thrust, the hunter bit down on his lower lip as if to focus. "R...mi--" he tried. "--can't, I'm go... to...!"
