long shadows

RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving "What, right here?" Ronin's voice is little more than a breathy whisper, and no part of him sounds as if he's particularly against it if it comes to that. Of course, if they're going for normal then they probably don't want to get banned from this bar within an hour of walking in for the first time - and yet, Ronin's ability to reason with his thinking head is rapidly diminishing. He slips an arm around Remi's waist, lips parting at the friction worked against his arousal by some very talented fingers. Dropping soft and distracted kisses against the Lullaby's jawline, Ronin abandons his drink (it's fine, the glass is ruined anyway) and lets his free hand press against Remi's, as if to urge him on. "Shall we get out of here?" he mumbles into the other man's ear. "Otherwise we might not be able to come back for a second date."

are you really going to talk about timing in times like these?

"Here, everywhere. Anywhere." Remi confirms, pressing his eyes closed which only has images of Ronin prostrated against any number of surfaces flashing all the more brightly in his mind. Despite all that, as Ronin suggests they leave, the alchemist's slightly parted lips quiver into a smile as he pulls in a shaky breath through his nose. "But I am not finished my drink, yet." He protests as if his fingers weren't still working over the fabric of his husband's pants.

"Do you really think we would be banned?" Remi asks, having the nerve to sound conversational even as the tips of his fingers strive to grip Ronin's erection despite the tautness of his pants. "I am one of the Guardians after all. And you, a Dragon." In more ways than one. Turning his head toward the Huntsman, he licks at his lower lip slowly and thoughtfully as his fingers subtly speed up yet again.

remi

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving As testament to the dragon Remi mentions, the groan that rumbles up in Ronin's throat sounds much more like a bestial growl, and he presses the alchemist's hand more insistently against his growing erection. It doesn't help, that it's all tight leather that's already perfectly fitted against his skin, but it also doesn't feel terrible either. "You sure I can't rush you?" he asks, his lips still lingering against Remi's ear until the other man turns his head, as his lips are almost but not quite captured. "I'd ban us, if I were in charge. Guardian be damned - we're a menace," he informs him, not that it's his choice and not that anyone in the bar is paying a blind bit of notice of them. Ronin does not manage to sound conversational, and as Remi's fingers have the audacity to speed up he tries and fails to hide another moan in the back of his throat, his head lolling back a little. "This is so unfair."

are you really going to talk about timing in times like these?

"Do you want to rush me?" Remi asks innocently as if his belly wasn't a fiery sea of want for the Huntsman and as if every single blink of his eyes didn't inspire lewd images.

"Are we? I thought we were having a perfectly nice drink." Remi hums, and it's only when Ronin tips his head back that the alchemist starts to wonder if he's strayed from frustrating to frustrating. "Shall I stop, then?" He wonders to himself, letting his hand partially shift to that of wraith such that Ronin's fingers overtop of his begin to sink through them. "Because you're right, it would be a shame to be banned from here." Remi adds, before leaning forward to press his lips softly against the shell of his husband's ear as if being overheard was the worst of what he'd been doing. "Though I will say it might be worth it, to dig my claws into the top of the bar with you pressed up against it. To hear your moans rattling all those rather pretty looking bottles.."

remi

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving Yes I fucking do, Ronin wants to say, forcing his eyes shut because honestly, no amount of lewd imagery he might come up with can compare to the look and feel of the other man next to him. Instead he stutters in a breath and a shiver works its way down his spine, the feathers that coat his shoulders ruffling their frustration. Remi is right in his assumptions, the Huntsman gripping his husband's hip and growling softly against the lips that press against the shell of his ear. He's just about hanging on, in fact, when Remi starts to speak, and the alchemist will find his husband not nearly as able to tolerate his teasing as usual. Ronin blames the season, but in reality it's all on his husband. His hand leaves the wraithlike fingers against his pants to roughly shove the table back a couple of inches. It's enough that he can turn properly towards Remi and lean in to stifle any further words with a hungry kiss, moaning into his mouth and pulling him closer.

are you really going to talk about timing in times like these?

That the abrupt movement of the table against the floorboards has drawn a few looks from the fae lingering in the bar is not something either man will see as their lips crash together. Cupping one hand possessively against the side of Ronin's face and into his hairline, the other paws at the leather over the Huntsman's thigh as if Remi is weighing the ramifications of clawing it off of his husband right here and now. Who would angrier, the fae, or Safrin?

Dizzy with indecision—he could make his husband cum in his pants, he was sure, could demand that everyone leave the bar, could try to make his way outside?—the hand against his husband's cheek shivers as his mind grows saturated with images of hands clasping skin, of Ronin gripping him tightly, of the way his name sounded panted at the height of one of his husband's orgasms.

Nearly ready to climb into Ronin's lap for all the good his thoughts are doing him, Remi's lips and tongue work with growing fervour against his husband's. The looks the pair are granted from the patrons are no longer subtle, with some looking impressed and others annoyed. "The bathroom.." Remi suggests shakily, already concerned about being unable to stand and make it even that far.

remi

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving The bathroom is about as close as they'll get, Ronin thinks. Or rather, Ronin doesn't think, but merely acknowledges as Remi's words reach him. He leans into the other man's fingers against his cheek, his own trying dilligently to unbutton the alchemist's pants, not that they get very far. All the glances they are or aren't receiving may as well not exist, to Ronin, and it's with a wicked smile and a brush of his nose against the Lullaby's that he nods. "Alright," he whispers... before promptly disappearing. One might think that Ronin is far too distracted to stage a bait and switch with his projection, but as it happens, he's surprisingly attentive when it comes to being able to fuck his husband. So he's conjured his projection into the bathroom, switched places with it, and dismissed the one now at the table in a matter of just a few seconds. And if and when Remi decides to join him, Ronin will already be there waiting, armed with talons and flecks of black scale instead of feathers. Getting rid of the phoenix has at least replaced the leather with clothing that is easier to remove, and it's something he plans to take full advantage of very soon.

are you really going to talk about timing in times like these?

Ronin's sudden disappearance has Remi hitching in a breath and sitting up abruptly, blinking stupidly at his empty chair. It's only as a few drops of blood go from one head to another that he's able to realize what has happened. Shaking his head with a grim smile, Remi runs his tongue along his teeth muttering, "Now who is being unfair?" as he shoves his own chair back to make his way to the bathroom.

Opening the door eagerly, Remi is stunned into stillness by the impossibly handsome man before him. At his side, the alchemist's fingers twitch and jerk as his eyes go from feathers to scales and then to lips and eyes he knows better than his own. His body will only handle a second or two more of oogling before it demands action, and with a swift inhale Remi finds himself shutting the door hard enough to wedge it in its frame. "Touch me," he all but growls, his fingers fumbling at the buttons of his shirt as he crosses the small distance between he and Ronin. Needing to feel his husband's lips upon his, Remi hastily presses himself against the Huntsman, still clawing at his buttons with one hand while the other scoops around Ronin's back to tug him close.

remi

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving Remi walks in not a moment too soon, and if he hadn't managed to wedge the door shut then Ronin would have resorted to fucking him up against it, so this at least gives them more options. "Gladly," he half moans, giving not one fuck about his own buttons as he tears his shirt open and steps forward to close the distance between them. Half growling into the kiss, his hands are hungry, almost predatory as they roam over his husband to try and help him out of his clothes. "I want you," he hums against his lips, pressing close against hot bronzed skin at last and backing them up against one of the walls. The shift out of leather has done absolutely nothing to control Ronin's arousal, and he lets out a shuddering breath as he tilts his hips forward to enjoy the friction between them. "Gods, you feel so good."

are you really going to talk about timing in times like these?

Sighing against Ronin's lips with shaky gratefulness as the torn shirt allows for his hands to roam across his husband's body, Remi takes his cue from the Huntsman and tears himself out of his own shirt as well. Talons and strength make quick work of the buttons which snap defeatedly from the cloth and fall to the floor. "Have me." Remi encourages, feeling the heat in his belly flare as his back meets the wall.

"I've never wanted you more," Remi pants, the words both true but also not. Pressing insistent and bruise-worthy kisses against Ronin's neck, Remi's hips pull back just enough to let his fingers fumble between their bodies to unbutton Ronin's pants. Casting a cursory glance around the bathroom to see what might support them, Remi quickly decides that only the walls are likely strong enough, though his gaze does linger on the mirror that sits above the sink casting back his stare almost suggestively.

With the pressure removed, Remi slides a hand down the front of Ronin's pants to grasp his husband's erection with a growl of relief. "I want you to fuck me," Remi pants raggedly. "And I want to watch you do it."

remi

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving Ronin's eyes shut that he might enjoy the feel of the Lullaby all the more; he wants each kiss to leave marks, even as fingers tipped with claws dance their way across Remi's skin. Ronin doesn't realise this, of course, and he'll apologise later for the faint and bloody lines he's been drawing along his husband's body. Only at the sound of ragged commands do his hands become his own again, his hips shifting that they might both free themselves of their buttons. "Whatever you want," he groans, his breath hitching as a touch he knows all too well grasps his cock, and an aching heat floods his belly. "Fuck, I just need to feel you." His eyes flutter open enough that he might be able to gaze down at Remi, and he nudges at his hands that they might loop around Ronin's neck, allowing the Huntsman to adjust them accordingly. If Remi wants to watch he can go right ahead - Ronin hasn't seen the mirror, but he knows they both have a projection they can use."

are you really going to talk about timing in times like these?

Remi's arms follow Ronin's wordless instructions, looping around the Huntsman's neck. Drawing their bodies close together, the friction of which is far less than being bound up by their clothes, and yet feels infinitely more exhilarating. Having shoved his underwear and pants down around his ankles, uncaring of just how juvenile and ridiculous he likely looks, Remi tugs Ronin close to press a rough kiss against the former-Star's lips as if the pressure he can create with his tongue might somehow be mimicked below. It isn't, because of course it isn't, but the heat is, and Remi feels a frustrated plume of desire rise like a scream in the back of his throat.

Twisting in his husband's arms that Remi's back might be pressed against his chest, feathers and fur trickle down his spine from the base of his neck like golden water that refuses to drip. Turning toward the mirror now, one hand braced against the side of it, Remi tugs at one of the Huntsman's hands, bringing Ronin's fingertips against his lips to impart affectionate and encouraging bites that threaten to change the Huntsman's fingerprints for their desperation and want. "I need to feel you," He begs in a shaky voice as his body shivers despite the heat rolling off of them.

remi

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving Juvenile and ridiculous are never words Ronin will use to describe his husband (not in this context, anyway), and he meets the kiss with a sharp and ragged inhale cut off by the press of the other man's lips. He both melts and stiffens at Remi's touch, grasping him closer and simultaneously needing to put a fraction of distance between them to readjust. It's a feat that the Lullaby manages with much more success than Ronin, the Huntsman letting out a shuddering sigh as he's redirected, the other man pressed back against him. With the hand not occupied by kisses, he grasps at Remi's hips and ass, moaning out his encouragement and frustration both at how close they are, but not close enough. And when Remi voices their combined need, Ronin is heedless to deny him. Leaning in, he drops bruising kisses against the side of the other man's neck, at the same time positioning himself that he might tease his way against the Lullaby, entering him slowly and deliberately, despite the groan of pleasure it drags from his throat. "Gods, you feel incredible."

are you really going to talk about timing in times like these?

The satisfaction that comes simply from being filled is a feeling that Remi has no name for. It's puzzle pieces slipped frictionlessly into place, a key that perfectly coaxes the tumblers of a lock, ice that cracks flawlessly out of a tray, but for all the flowery words in the world, there is just something about being fucked when it's exactly what you want.

Parting his lips to expel a gasp, Remi feels his ribcage expanding as if he's about to take flight. "Gods, Ronin." He mumbles, clenching his toes together. Wanting the Huntsman to both go slow and fast, Remi grips the casing around the mirror with happily frustrated fingers. There is an urgency that necessarily comes from fooling around in a bathroom, and now it rises like a hiccup in the back of the alchemist's throat as he shifts his hips forward and back to try and tease out a moan from the man behind him. "They'll be picturing us out there." He whispers menacingly. "Wondering who's fucking who. Or perhaps...dopo avermi visto entrare qui da solo, penseranno che mi sto toccando pensando a te?" Remi whispers, the meaning lost in the musical elegance of the travelling tongue.

remi

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)