RONIN
It's at times like these, where Ronin feels so caught and so seen, that he isn't sure he's deserving of the attention being lavished upon him. He can almost see the blinkers glide down over Remi's vision, reducing the world to the small and imperfect space Ronin takes up, and for all of his confidence, butterflies take flight in the pit of his stomach. The Lullaby's touch is a welcome balm against his nerves, and he (only just) resists the urge to arch his hips against the gentle fingertips using him as a canvas.
Letting his thumb follow the curve of his husband's cheekbone, he stutters out a soft laugh in sync with the sudden and violent movements of the table, his free hand coming to steady against Remi's shoulder lest he trip and fall. "A work in progress," he corrects, his voice breathless despite doing none of the kissing or the work right now. Judging by the tightness of his pants, though, it's entirely possible that all the blood rushing southwards has rendered him dizzy.
"The right artist might finish me off though," he offers with a lopsided smile that threatens to ruin the reverence of the moment.
Letting his thumb follow the curve of his husband's cheekbone, he stutters out a soft laugh in sync with the sudden and violent movements of the table, his free hand coming to steady against Remi's shoulder lest he trip and fall. "A work in progress," he corrects, his voice breathless despite doing none of the kissing or the work right now. Judging by the tightness of his pants, though, it's entirely possible that all the blood rushing southwards has rendered him dizzy.
"The right artist might finish me off though," he offers with a lopsided smile that threatens to ruin the reverence of the moment.
one more wish for you
