RONIN
the darkstar
light is easy to love.
Seeing nothing, hearing only the honeyed growl of words that have no meaning against his ear, Ronin is powerless against the way his body responds. Unconsciously he arches up into a touch that won't come, and the flush that has started on his cheeks has crept down now over his neck and onto his collarbones. Hissing in a breath, Ronin's head turns as if to seek out some part of Remi that might be in reach; of course he has no idea if that's true, and regardless it doesn't make the fact that he's blindfolded and bound (however intentionally) any easier.
As wingtips, soft and warm, come brushing against his knuckles, his hands flinch reflexively, wanting nothing more than to let go of the posts so he might wrap himself around the alchemist in turn. He'd say something, but nothing really compares to the dark music spilling from his husband's lips, and besides, the only thing that escapes Ronin is a shuddering moan at the continuing attention - or lack thereof.
As wingtips, soft and warm, come brushing against his knuckles, his hands flinch reflexively, wanting nothing more than to let go of the posts so he might wrap himself around the alchemist in turn. He'd say something, but nothing really compares to the dark music spilling from his husband's lips, and besides, the only thing that escapes Ronin is a shuddering moan at the continuing attention - or lack thereof.
show me your darkness.
