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

All but stumbling after the mechanic, Remi's erection seems to be the only part of his body confident in what it's supposed to do. Everything else feels clumsy and far away such that he can hardly even feel the bedding beneath him as he sinks down. 'Well,' The word is more a huff of breath than anything, as Remi moves himself closer to the head of the bed, snagging the lube on his way. "You aren't exactly small, so..you'll have to be slow at first. Until I can relax."

Nodding his head that Ronin should come closer, the musician squeezes a healthy amount of lube into his hand; not enough to be sloppy, but Remi hadn't been exaggerating for the sake of Ronin's ego, either. Reaching for Hallway's cock, Remi's strokes are meant to be efficient rather than arousing, but there's heat in his eyes just the same. 'Slow,' He reminds the other man, turning on his knees that he might use the wall against which the head of Ronin's bed is pressed, for leverage.

Glancing over his shoulder, Remi looks like any Italian Renaissance painting might, what with his pale eyes, curls, dusky cheeks, and parted lips. A conversation for later to be sure, Ronin might notice that the musician's manscaping is pristine. Had Remi perhaps done some extra tidying on the off change he ended up in this position, even after Ronin had stormed out of his apartment earlier? He had indeed.

ThE RoCkStAr