we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead
”Not enough room on my cloud? I beg to differ, Governor. There is always room for you.” Gods, it’s fucking torturous for them both, the way Remi’s hands leave trails of warm fire against skin made chilly by the rain and the wind, the way his lips linger ever so closely to his husband’s, not quite touching. ”Is that so? But you’re so good at it,” he objects, trying to sound chastising as he moves Remi’s hands down across his lower back to cup and squeeze his ass.
His laugh this time is a breathy sort of chuckle, Ronin barely trusting himself to keep up the ruse, over bright eyes dancing with heat and amusement both. ”Let you off with a warning, he says. I think you’re already imagining reoffending, if I’m honest. I think I’ll have to bring you in.” He leaves Remi’s hands where he’s placed them, his own fingers dancing along the Alchemist’s forearms, biceps, shoulders, and the heartbeat in his wedding ring might just skip a beat as his touch roams.
His laugh this time is a breathy sort of chuckle, Ronin barely trusting himself to keep up the ruse, over bright eyes dancing with heat and amusement both. ”Let you off with a warning, he says. I think you’re already imagining reoffending, if I’m honest. I think I’ll have to bring you in.” He leaves Remi’s hands where he’s placed them, his own fingers dancing along the Alchemist’s forearms, biceps, shoulders, and the heartbeat in his wedding ring might just skip a beat as his touch roams.
THE DARK STAR
and continue fighting
