all the best debts

i wish I could say I am a light that never goes out.
but i flicker from time to time

We might comment on the stillness of midnight, or say something about how the moon and the stars hang in the sky to make them seem grander and more mysterious than they are. We could paint the jungle in deep shades of navy and vermillion and mention how the far away sounds of the various waterfalls sounds like the hum of thunder or the purr of a very large cat to invoke a sensation of danger. We could talk about the sweetness of the air and the thickness of it that suggests a storm is likely approaching to imply a sense of urgency. We could, and if you like we can, but there are far more interesting things on which we might focus our attention.

There is a clearing within which has been placed a blanket and a picnic basket, around which has been scattered a ridiculous amount of unusual flora. The mushrooms are phallic in both size and shape and the flower blossoms are suggestive and fragrant. Honey has been placed onto the various caps and petals in haphazard droplets, and the various stems and stalks have been bound in braided leather and clover chains.

On the very center of the blanket is a perfectly folded square of black silk with the following note (written in a hand Ronin won't recognize). I'm so glad you came. Put this on..

ronin A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets After all this time, one would not think that butterflies would fill Ronin's belly with their fluttering. Not like this. He steps carefully over vines and through dense curtains of leaves with a mixture of delight and bemusement, relying on fireflies and partially shifted sight to find his way. And when he does come across the picnic, he has to bite his lip to stop his smile from running away with him. "I have never had a secret admirer before," he purrs, working his way through sticky mushrooms and fragrant petals to reach the blanket. The Oerwoud is humid where Torchline is cold, and so the pale blue shirt he'd chosen to wear is partially unbuttoned by now and rolled up his forearms. Absorbing the note and tilting his head at the square of black silk, the smile does appear, and he obeys with barely hidden enthusiasm. The silk is folded into a band which he uses to cover his eyes, tying a loose knot at the back of his head. "Be gentle with me, okay?" he murmurs.

i wish I could say I am a light that never goes out.
but i flicker from time to time

Ronin will hear soft footfalls in the grass followed by the smell of oiled leather. Keen ears will detect the groaning of hinges and the creak of wood as the picnic basket is opened and closed. Against his lips, the Huntsman will feel something round held by gloved fingers, that, based on the pressure used, he's clearly supposed to eat (or at least welcome into his mouth). If he does he'll feel the familiar golden tang of a blushberry bursting onto his tongue followed by a palpable silence broken only by the presence of another blushberry.

If there are any other smells they are masked by honey and the earthen warmth of the mushrooms. If Ronin's admirer is an attuned, the mental link has been completely blocked, and other than the feeling of pressure against his shoulders as his admirer encourages him to sit on the blanket, there's very little sensory evidence to suggest who it might be.

ronin A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets The unfamiliarity of it all is tantalising; left blind, Ronin is putty in Remi's the stranger's hands. Savouring the ripe burst of a blushberry on his tongue, he sinks down onto the blanket without complaint. Of course he attempts to speak, but when he does there is only another pop of sweetness, accompanied by the smell of leather and wood and honey. With a soft sigh, already heat is filling his cheeks, and whilst he can't recognise anything about the man above him (below him? all around?), he wants to feel more gloved touches, perhaps with further treats from the basket beside them. "Well this is very kind of you," he says softly.

i wish I could say I am a light that never goes out.
but i flicker from time to time

Any real admirer of Ronin's, secret or otherwise, would absolutely know to pack more than just a few berries for the Huntsman to snack on, so worry not. Just now there is the sound of movement and the whisper of fabric, as the admirer who is absolutely not Remi reaches for both of Ronin's hands to guide them behind his back. Though he's blindfolded, no doubt Ronin can guess the colour of silk that's being used to bind his wrists together.

Once this is done, the picnic basket whines and groans again but rather than the scent of something sweet filling the air, this time the Huntsman will detect bark, grass, and dried lavender. Next comes the sound of a match being struck followed by the hiss of flames. The fire is either not very close or not very large because hardly any heat will reach the Huntsman. After a moment's preparation, gloved hands returned to Ronin—specifically his shoulders. There seems to be the right number of fingers within said gloves for those who may be counting, but perhaps Ronin isn't given how they work at the muscles of his shoulders, mindful of how his hands are bound behind his back.

The coppery smell of meat rises from the flames and dried spices and we can be quite sure that so far out in the jungle, Ronin and his admirer are not the only ones who can smell it.

ronin A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets Very much unused to being such a passive participant in any sort of date, secret or otherwise, Ronin's senses work overtime to figure out what's going on - and perhaps how to trip up his admirer into revealing more, perhaps, than he intended. For now, though, there's just spice on the air and lavender tickling his nose, and soft silk binding his wrists together. "If you decide to leave me here for the wildlife, there will be words," he warns. Probably not words from his date though, if this is anything to go by. But now there's the scent of cooking meat and skilled fingers working on his shoulders and even though his eyes are covered, Ronin can still feel them roll back. "I enjoyed your flowers," he murmurs, making the most of the one sided conversation.

i wish I could say I am a light that never goes out.
but i flicker from time to time

He or she, Ronin. Women can have large hands, too.

The Huntsman's words cause the admirer to pause, and one might assume they were newly considering doing just that. Though there might have been an elaborate plan in place, letting a big jungle cat come and steal one of the most capable men in all of Caido's midnight snack might be worth it. Insert kombucha girl gif here.

An intake of breath is the only sound of acknowledgement Ronin will receive, and though one of the admirer's hands remains on his shoulder, the other trickles lower to unbutton the remainder of his shirt. There's the brush of a finger against the top of his belt for just a moment, though perhaps that was merely the tip of a glove.

Whatever sizzles on the fire is left for only a few seconds more before both hands withdraw only to be replaced by the instinctual nearness of meat. Flecked with spices and lavender smoke and marinaded in buttermilk and honey, the pieces wafted before Ronin's lips are just past the point of being blue-rare.

ronin A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets Ronin's breath stutters in his throat as deft fingers come to unbutton his shirt, revealing scars and ink in abundance, not that he can see any of it. His fingers flex behind his back, as if he might tear through the silk and remove his blindfold and be much more a part of things, but he minds his manners. (For now). The hands withdraw and he huffs out a soft sound of frustration (lol, the instinctual nearness of meat), a smile curling across his lips. "I don't believe I have ever had such a strong and silent admirer," he mutters, leaning forward ever so slightly to bite into a morsel of food, feeling the spices dance on his tongue. If only it were something else, alas.

i wish I could say I am a light that never goes out.
but i flicker from time to time

For now, for now, for now. Remi or not, there are few in all of Caido ignorant of Ronin's strength; unless these bindings are made of magical silk (and who knows, they might be), manners are exactly what is being relied upon here.

If we're to believe that losing one sense heightens others, then perhaps Ronin will hear a gulp just as his teeth sink into the flesh of whatever it is he's being fed. More meat is offered {search gif bar for \'wiggly brows\'} with one hand as the casually rests upon Ronin's thigh. Slowly, as one might increase the temperature of that fabled frog's pot of water, the fingers begin to caress the Huntsman's leg, moving tentatively towards the inside of his thigh with every soft amble of fingers. It's so hesitant that one might be tempted to believe it really was an admirer, or at least, an admirer who wasn't Remi.

Crumbled cheese is added to the next bite of meat, and following that is a scoop of hot-pepper-peach jelly served on nothing but the outstretched finger of a gloved hand.

ronin A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets Manners, indeed. The meat all but melts on his tongue, and whether it's definitely Remi or not, there's no doubt that the person cooking absolutely knows what they are doing. Still, with the addition of a hand moving along the inside of his thigh, even the best manners aren't able to control everything, and by the time the peach jelly is against his lips, there's blood dripping from his chin. An eager tongue darts out, and with a mischievous smile, Ronin does lean in to attempt to nip at the gloved finger, to pull the garment off. Of course he doesn't expect it to work, but the teasing amusement is there nonetheless. "I have to wonder what you've got planned for dessert," he chuckles.

i wish I could say I am a light that never goes out.
but i flicker from time to time

Are Ronin's senses fine-tuned enough to hear the way the admirer's lips curl into a snarl at the sight and scent of blood? To catch the sound of their tongue as it grates against the back of their teeth, or catch the whisper of tension as their muscles tighten and coil?

Ronin's teeth catch upon the tip of the glove and in response, the admirer tsks under their breath (tsking is a gender neutral sound, right?). Both hands pull away followed by the sound of someone getting up; behind him, Ronin's bonds are removed but only so that he could be encouraged to lay down. If this is managed without any argument, Ronin will find himself tethered anew to something behind him to keep his hands away from his body.

Fanning out the sides of Ronin's unbuttoned shirt, the admirer trails their hands down his torso taking special care to traverse each and every bit of musculature and scar tissue. When finally their hands reach the twin channels that descend beneath the line of his belt, one hand begins to undo the clasps as the other reaches—reaches—and presses something moist, and hot, and chocolatey against Ronin's lips.

ronin A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets A three course meal (technically) and a show, even if it's only behind his eyes? Ronin definitely won't be complaining about that. Unable to do much more than offer a slightly bloody grin in response to his admirer's admonishments, of course the Huntsman lays back as he's encouraged, allowing himself to be tethered anew to whatever-it-is behind him. Back arching as gloved hands map the planes of his chest and his sides, he's wondering how far this not-Remi is deciding to take things. And he's just about to ask as much when something hot and chocolately comes to shush him, Ronin humming around the gloved finger and, perhaps in a move that tells of patience wearing thin, hooks one of his legs out to try and topple his admirer. There's no doubt how all of this teasing is affecting him, as the other hand on his belt will notice quite easily.

i wish I could say I am a light that never goes out.
but i flicker from time to time

Having assumed at some point it would come to this, Ronin's admirer is wearing long sleeves (despite the heat) with their shirt tucked into their pants so that no skin was showing (because...of..bugs..and not a certain type of magic). Even so Remi they hadn't expected Ronin's patience to wear quite so quickly, and ss it's with a muffled ooommff of surprise that Ronin will feel a familiar body against his own as his admirer struggles to regain their previous balance and control of the situation.

Rising swiftly with a hasty inhale of air, Ronin's admirer dispels with the formalities and, using both hands, finishes the work of unbuttoning his pants only to tug Ronin's underwear and pants down just to his knees. This of course has the added benefit of limiting his range of motion as well as revealing the culmination of Ronin's impatience.

Here is where things get just a bit technical, and for those of you in the know, you'll understand why it's important to point out that a tongue, lips, and the inside of one's mouth are not considered skin. So it will be that as a gloved hand grips the base of Ronin's cock and a tongue swirls a decadent circle against his head, there won't be a single emotion or feeling communicated BeCaUse ReMi Is VeRy ClEveR.

ronin A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets Remi is very clever, and Ronin by comparison is very not, and so as he's readjusted and both hands grip his erection, he's assuming that this is as far as things with his admirer will go. Not that he's complaining at all, because this has still frankly been the best not-so-clandestine meeting at midnight in the jungle, and he's all prepped and ready to enjoy himself when a very talented tongue comes to join the party. And it's not that this is a bad thing - it categorically is not, in terms of how good it feels and how much Ronin would like it to keep happening - but he had been expecting a rush of emotion. And when there isn't anything, well... fuck. Actual fuck. Stuttering in a sharp breath that is absolutely pleasure mingled with panic, the Huntsman starts to free himself of his bonds with a very flustered surge of emotion. "Wait, wait--" he blurts, swallowing hard and fighting away the silk around his wrists so he can get his elbows under him. "I can't, I'm sorry. I'm married." And this, of course, is where he pushes up the blindfold, thinking he's made a huge fucking mistake.