the baffled king composing hallelujah
”Oh, obviously. And there’s nothing quite like a dragon biting you on the ass to get you up in the morning.” Ronin grins; up, of course, is punctuated by a playful press of his hips against his husband’s, and the hand on Remi’s ass stays precisely where it belongs. Or at least it does until Remi slides off him, leaving him pretty much brown from head to toe from the mud. Gods how he loves this man. And gods if he’s not an absolute shit.
”Well?” he asks. ”Were you too common-bred for a middle name, too?” Grinning, he gazes across at Remi and hums his gentle agreement; today alone has demonstrated how likely it is that either one of them might lose their bond to the other. ”Perhaps if a tattoo could replicate what the ring does...” He examines his hand, as if trying to imagine ink in the place of the wedding band. ”You couldn’t lob it into the sea then, either.”
”Well?” he asks. ”Were you too common-bred for a middle name, too?” Grinning, he gazes across at Remi and hums his gentle agreement; today alone has demonstrated how likely it is that either one of them might lose their bond to the other. ”Perhaps if a tattoo could replicate what the ring does...” He examines his hand, as if trying to imagine ink in the place of the wedding band. ”You couldn’t lob it into the sea then, either.”
