like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me
The words are his undoing more than anything else. Remi's eyes press shut as if in a wince, though Ronin will have seen this expression many times on his husband's face. He has no need of detailed vision right now, but his other senses? Closing his eyes lets him focus on the tactile feel of the Star beneath him with hands that aren't quite human anymore. The smell of adrenaline and lust that intermingles with the mud has Remi's head shaking ever so slightly as he mentally puzzles his way through it, picking out the intrinsic smell of his husband and letting it guide him.
With a growl, his lips are on Ronin's again as he shifts his hips up and uses a tentacle to tug down the Star's pants. With an insistent grunt that Ronin no doubt will understand as mine next, he'll wriggle himself out of his own as well so long as Ronin has undone them. And if not? Well, they'll be cut off as well then.
They have all the time in the world for this, and yet Remi feels like there is some shadow stretching out from the trees that demarcate the end of playtime. It's likely just some latent predatory inclination to always be prepared, and yet he happily sinks into just the same; real or imagined, Remi wants little else in this moment other than to indulge them. Hating to pull away if only for a second, the alchemist does so with a whine trapped behind his lips as he straightens, if only to press his husband's knees to his chest (or spread his legs), whatever his preference.
With a growl, his lips are on Ronin's again as he shifts his hips up and uses a tentacle to tug down the Star's pants. With an insistent grunt that Ronin no doubt will understand as mine next, he'll wriggle himself out of his own as well so long as Ronin has undone them. And if not? Well, they'll be cut off as well then.
They have all the time in the world for this, and yet Remi feels like there is some shadow stretching out from the trees that demarcate the end of playtime. It's likely just some latent predatory inclination to always be prepared, and yet he happily sinks into just the same; real or imagined, Remi wants little else in this moment other than to indulge them. Hating to pull away if only for a second, the alchemist does so with a whine trapped behind his lips as he straightens, if only to press his husband's knees to his chest (or spread his legs), whatever his preference.
remi
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
