i wish I could say I am a light that never goes out.
but i flicker from time to time
but i flicker from time to time
Now with blushberries warming his belly, Remi feels an instant lightness in his limbs as if the butterflies suddenly aflutter in his belly are literally lifting him from the ground. Then again, after having to be mindful of the ways he could touch Ronin, the relative volatility he feels in his muscles might be entirely of his own making.
"Mhmmm." He confirms with a hum, his tongue searching for any lingering notes of copper on his husband's lips. Moaning in response to the hands curling around him, it's with a distracted grunt of effort that Remi reaches one hand over his shoulder to untuck his shirt and peel it over his head. "I even shifted—" Pulling back, Remi hastily pulls his head and one arm out. "—tentacles into my glove so it felt like fingers." As if to prove this point, his right hand—currently curled possessively beneath his husband's ass— markedly loses half of its form.
Thrusting his hips downwards before closing his teeth around a ragged moan, Remi casts a distracted glance towards his picnic basket. "You still have to pretend you do not know it is me." He mumbles before forcing himself off of Ronin to re-fasten the his wrists above his head. With gloved hands, there was yet one last surprise that might still throw his husband off. Taking the Huntsman's erection into his hand again, Remi's magic slithers into the depths of his husband's mind looking for memories ofgods forbid breasts. Tugging those images to the forefront, Remi lavishes Ronin's cock with fresh attention as his magic replicates the sensory experiences of feminine curves and lips and skin pressed against Ronin's mostly-naked body.
"Mhmmm." He confirms with a hum, his tongue searching for any lingering notes of copper on his husband's lips. Moaning in response to the hands curling around him, it's with a distracted grunt of effort that Remi reaches one hand over his shoulder to untuck his shirt and peel it over his head. "I even shifted—" Pulling back, Remi hastily pulls his head and one arm out. "—tentacles into my glove so it felt like fingers." As if to prove this point, his right hand—currently curled possessively beneath his husband's ass— markedly loses half of its form.
Thrusting his hips downwards before closing his teeth around a ragged moan, Remi casts a distracted glance towards his picnic basket. "You still have to pretend you do not know it is me." He mumbles before forcing himself off of Ronin to re-fasten the his wrists above his head. With gloved hands, there was yet one last surprise that might still throw his husband off. Taking the Huntsman's erection into his hand again, Remi's magic slithers into the depths of his husband's mind looking for memories of
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.
