whiskey, smoke and aces high

It's too bad. When did it get cool to be so sad? We're spinnin' backwards, did we all go mad?
Yeah, we're only human but w?'ve got hands and hearts and noses,
So stop and sm?ll the fucking roses

From arguments in his apartment that morning to be tugged closer to this man he hardly knew, Remi is edging dangerously closer to making every song about you territory. Already lyrics and phrases flash in his mind as Ronin reaches for him. "Is this where I say next time?, and then you get confused and have me leave?" He wonders with a crooked smile, using his body to try and edge Ronin back against the bed. "So before that happens, I do not want either of us to leave."

And he meant it. Strongly enough that the snark about whatever gas station dinner Ronin might take him to is forgotten in the heat of the moment; Remi's hands glide along the mechanic's sides and he presses their lips together again. It's all so bright and fresh that every touch ignites a pulse of heat in Remi's belly that he wants to savour and protect as much as he wants to fan it that it might consume him.

Releasing one of the mechanic's hips, Remi reaches over his shoulder to tug off his own shirt in a swift movement, breaking their kiss just for a moment. "You'll find there's only one name written here." He whispers softly. Should Ronin take the time to look, he'll find that amidst the old alienist-type drawings of bones and skulls and between the stars and botanical imagery there is in fact one name: over his heart, is Milia.

ThE RoCkStAr