young and menace

REMI

the alchemist

What good are hands
if there's nothing that they hold

Looking up at Ronin, bent in a posture of devotion and prayer before him, there is something sweetly submissive about the way the Lullaby yields without argument to the whims of his fingers. Not unlike the way his right hand seems sometimes to have a mind of its own, now Remi watches as if from a distance as his hands scatter abstract shapes across his husband's body, mapping out the flourish and currents of emotion that flow between them.

Pressing a kiss just below Ronin's bellybutton as his thumbs line the v-shaped musculature on either side of his mouth, for just a moment the Lullaby's hands tighten predatorily against Ronin's hips as a ripple of tension sweeps across his arms and upper back. Feathers prickle beneath the thin cotton of his shirt and through his curls as Remi leans forward enough to send their kitchen table thudding back a few inches with the force pressed against Ronin's body. Colour flushes anew across his cheeks as the alchemist tilts his head back almost apologetically, and as he leans his cheek against the Huntsman's hand, he forces out a breath that shivers with restraint.

"You have always been a work of art." Remi whispers as he presses his lips against the hollow created by the Huntsman's belly and hips, sipping in a shaky and reverent breath.

And what good are hearts
if you bury them all alone?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!