See yourself through my eyes

As Sam moved, Remi had to do his best not to wince as the distribution of their weight caused the bed to shift, in turn causing his ribs to sing out angrily. Whatever mental resources he had directed towards worrying about his injuries however were immediately depleted as the length of Remi's arousal was ghosted against by Sam's shifting body. It was through far too many layers of fabric, but even so the alchemist sucked in a hasty breath as he looked up at Sam, wanting nothing more in that moment than to drag him down and feel the bookmaker against him all the places currently covered by his blanket. He hadn't been lying when he said the upgrade had not been for this...but the change in Sam was obvious, and not just because of the sudden tenting in his trousers. He could feel this too, or at least it certainly seemed like he could. And blissfully the alchemist's worries that Sam was merely acting out of some desire to please and not because he found this enjoyable, began to ease. With pale eyes scanning his face, Remi watched as Sam hazarded a glance towards the door, leaving Remi wondering if he had heard something there or if he was just losing his nerve. With a hasty and hard bite to the inside of his cheek, the alchemist tried to wrangle his desires back under some semblance of rationality, reminding himself that this was new for Sam, that the man was admittedly shy and cautious and—that's why it was such a surprise when instead of making an excuse or rolling away, Remi suddenly found his vision filled with just Sam as he leaned forward, his lips whispering a question Remi hardly cared about, against his own. Feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the restrictions of his injuries, Remi found himself wanting to arch his body upwards to meet Sam's, but couldn't. He couldn't pull Sam towards him, nor could he flip their positions as he so desperately wanted to do. Instead he felt caged inside of himself, a prisoner to the wounds he'd sustained saving and being saved.  "No—" Remi agreed, the word a half smile against Sam's mouth as one of Remi's hands shakily came to rest against the man's coppery hair. As Sam became more bold, Remi's lips and tongue and teeth became more insistent, no longer tentatively searching but instead seeming to drive towards some goal that could only be reached by the near constant contact of their lips together. The hand not tangled in Sam's hair came to rest against the curl of his hip, slithering between the fabric of his shirt to lay against bare skin. remi I always forget that you can't read my mind