we live in a world someone else imagined
If he weren’t so otherwise engaged, Ronin might have chastised his husband for his self-deprecation. But then again maybe he doesn’t need to say it with words - he’s pulling Remi closer, fingers pressing into the small of his back, his free hand cupping the other man’s cheek as if to keep him desperately close. The nimbus drifts to a standstill where they foolishly decided to strip off all their clothes, but Ronin doesn’t notice or care. The murmured words filter through their Attuned bond enough for the huntsman to grin, nipping gently at Remi’s lower lip and drawing back enough to pant a few quick breaths.
He can’t lie to Remi, not as entangled as they are, so he’ll feel it all - the cresting wave of relief, bright and so much more than when he had been at the lighthouse, and the dark riptide that drags at him underneath, reminding him of all that’s been lost. And still a thread of golden delight that pulls through it all, anchoring him to the man in his lap. ”I don’t feel good. But I feel better,” he says, the words all but mumbled against Remi’s lips. He wants to lean off the nimbus to grab their clothes that they might be able to go home, but that involves letting go of the alchemist, and his hands and mouth are too busy for that.
He can’t lie to Remi, not as entangled as they are, so he’ll feel it all - the cresting wave of relief, bright and so much more than when he had been at the lighthouse, and the dark riptide that drags at him underneath, reminding him of all that’s been lost. And still a thread of golden delight that pulls through it all, anchoring him to the man in his lap. ”I don’t feel good. But I feel better,” he says, the words all but mumbled against Remi’s lips. He wants to lean off the nimbus to grab their clothes that they might be able to go home, but that involves letting go of the alchemist, and his hands and mouth are too busy for that.
the dark star
