RONIN
the darkstar
light is easy to love.
It’s difficult to think like this, with the alchemist wrapped so infuriatingly around him, so real and so present that it’s almost impossible to remember that it really is a dream. Ronin nips against soft lips that come to write poetry against his own, fingers flexing in unruly curls, wishing (and not wishing) that the layers of fabric between them would dissolve into flower petals just as they have done in previous times.
The Lullaby’s question comes as an interruption, Ronin already busy unbuttoning Remi’s shirt, head tilting down so he can drop hot kisses against chilled skin. ”Somehow this is better,” he growls, though around them the caricatures of the Star’s favourite dreams dance in a parade. Filth and fantasy roll together - Remi taking and being taken, his pleasure painted in exquisite detail in the stars that twinkle above, all feral innocence and gentle violence.
The reminders do very little to cool the heat in Ronin’s belly, and he mumbles a soft curse against Remi’s collarbones as he urges the alchemist on.
The Lullaby’s question comes as an interruption, Ronin already busy unbuttoning Remi’s shirt, head tilting down so he can drop hot kisses against chilled skin. ”Somehow this is better,” he growls, though around them the caricatures of the Star’s favourite dreams dance in a parade. Filth and fantasy roll together - Remi taking and being taken, his pleasure painted in exquisite detail in the stars that twinkle above, all feral innocence and gentle violence.
The reminders do very little to cool the heat in Ronin’s belly, and he mumbles a soft curse against Remi’s collarbones as he urges the alchemist on.
show me your darkness.
