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

It's strange, to be so close after both so much and so little. Changing in separate rooms, arguments, and things said and misunderstood. Remi's breath shivers from his lips and he finds himself wanting to sit up straighter in Ronin's arms that the other man might trace more of his skin, but also to collapse down to try and press them together at every possible point of contact.

"Ah, well...I hope not to disappoint, but those typically aren't the gifts I tend to leave." Still looking down at the scar, it's with a pant of surprise that Ronin catches his lips. The hips that move below his own have Remi's right hand suddenly tightening on Ronin's opposite shoulder, before sliding around his back and then tangling up into his hair. Not unconsciously, Remi's hips rock forward slightly as the musician clutches the other man closer. The leather of Ronin's pants makes the musician feel as though he's sitting on some sort of plastic mannequin, and he's as frustrated as he is amused by the utter lack of friction that he's able to create between them.

ThE RoCkStAr