RONIN
the darkstar
light is easy to love.
However steady the Star's resolve, however long he has succeeded in not moving, in shuddering through the sweet torture of his husband's ministrations, he does have a limit. And that limit is both reached and surpassed the second he feels Remi all around him, Ronin's breath catching sharply in his throat as his shoulders brace hard against the bed in lieu of his hips rising. "Fuck--" His curse isn't quiet and nor does it try to be, though it's positively a whisper compared to the cracking and splintering of the bedposts.
While it's true that there's nothing in Ronin's shifts that counts as truly predatory, that doesn't mean there isn't something dominating in the luxere stag that rises within him, and as he throws whatever is left of the headboard aside, he's already lurching up in an attempt to drag Remi against him, to claim his lips in a possessive kiss.
While it's true that there's nothing in Ronin's shifts that counts as truly predatory, that doesn't mean there isn't something dominating in the luxere stag that rises within him, and as he throws whatever is left of the headboard aside, he's already lurching up in an attempt to drag Remi against him, to claim his lips in a possessive kiss.
show me your darkness.
