walked out this morning and i wrote down this song.
i just can't remember who to send it to
i just can't remember who to send it to
Remi felt his erection somehow continue to swell, the skin growing more and more taut. Should Ronin need any more evidence that his ministrations were well received, he need only compare the feeling of Remi now, to early morning sexcapades born out of mutual morning-wood and a desire to fall easily back asleep again.
As Ronin pulled away, his fingers wrapping around Remi's base, the alchemist let his eyes flutter backwards as did his head, sipping at the air as a shudder rippled down his back. "No one said you needed to use your hands on me." Remi remarked after a moment, chin tilting back down to get the measure of his husband before drawing back slightly (and with much willpower). "Petals or leaves? Sounds like someone wants romance, and here I thought we were cutting through the bullshit." He joked, reaching for Ronin so that he might stand and the alchemist might relieve the hunter of his pants.
Rather than kissing Ronin as he did this, instead Remi let his eyes trail down the hardened line of his husband's stomach, yearning to place his teeth and tongue upon every marred bit of flesh to taste them anew. He might have done if his wickedness was any match for his need of Ronin. Those scales were firmly tipped towards desire, and so rather than teasing his way into freeing his lover's erection, Remi's hands made swift work of the fabric, tugging buttons and belts until Ronin's pants slid down to his ankles.
With a fiendish look in his eyes now, Remi pushed himself forward, his cock brushing infuriatingly gently against Ronin's own, with his hands on the hunter's shoulders. Earth would rise up behind Ronin's calves in a sweeping arc. An earthen chaise lounge of sorts would appear to catch him, melding precisely to the curves of his body; or at least, the curves Remi wanted there to be, to better ravage him with.
As Ronin pulled away, his fingers wrapping around Remi's base, the alchemist let his eyes flutter backwards as did his head, sipping at the air as a shudder rippled down his back. "No one said you needed to use your hands on me." Remi remarked after a moment, chin tilting back down to get the measure of his husband before drawing back slightly (and with much willpower). "Petals or leaves? Sounds like someone wants romance, and here I thought we were cutting through the bullshit." He joked, reaching for Ronin so that he might stand and the alchemist might relieve the hunter of his pants.
Rather than kissing Ronin as he did this, instead Remi let his eyes trail down the hardened line of his husband's stomach, yearning to place his teeth and tongue upon every marred bit of flesh to taste them anew. He might have done if his wickedness was any match for his need of Ronin. Those scales were firmly tipped towards desire, and so rather than teasing his way into freeing his lover's erection, Remi's hands made swift work of the fabric, tugging buttons and belts until Ronin's pants slid down to his ankles.
With a fiendish look in his eyes now, Remi pushed himself forward, his cock brushing infuriatingly gently against Ronin's own, with his hands on the hunter's shoulders. Earth would rise up behind Ronin's calves in a sweeping arc. An earthen chaise lounge of sorts would appear to catch him, melding precisely to the curves of his body; or at least, the curves Remi wanted there to be, to better ravage him with.
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
