you are terrifying and strange and beautiful
"Do what?" Ronin asks playfully, smiling into Remi's neck and keeping his eyes shut to let his other senses enjoy the moment fully. The distant sound of birdsong mingling with the hush of a breeze through flowers; the chill racing up his spine contrasting with the fiery heat wherever their bodies touch; the taste of salt and iron in his mouth; it's all exquisite for Ronin, right here and right now. "You are very good motivation," he adds, letting his fingers strum along the other man's chest and ribs now that they're appropriately laying down.
Humming a note of utter bliss in response to the somewhat sloppy kiss against his forehead, the Huntsman is fully in the savouring zone now. He might have reached over for their wine, might have opened his eyes or continued to deliver sweet nothings against the shell of Remi's ear. But no - there's only this, the drumbeat of their hearts and the caress of their fingers, and nothing else matters.
Eventually, though, when long enough has passed that if Ronin was going to slip into a nap he'd have certainly done it, he peeks up at the other man. "Hungry?"
Humming a note of utter bliss in response to the somewhat sloppy kiss against his forehead, the Huntsman is fully in the savouring zone now. He might have reached over for their wine, might have opened his eyes or continued to deliver sweet nothings against the shell of Remi's ear. But no - there's only this, the drumbeat of their hearts and the caress of their fingers, and nothing else matters.
Eventually, though, when long enough has passed that if Ronin was going to slip into a nap he'd have certainly done it, he peeks up at the other man. "Hungry?"
The huntsman
