RONIN
The years that span between them make something that might seem clumsy and awkward into a dance where they both intimately know the moves, and Ronin meets his partner at every step. His head tilts back and his fingers twine gently though the alchemist's curls, his back arched against the table. Lips part in a helpless, silent moan as his husband takes him, Ronin willing the tension to melt from his muscles, put there by the anticipation of even greater pleasure to come.
"More," he urges - he'd beg if he thought he needed to, but for all of their godly endurance, he doesn't think Remi's self control would last to the point of him begging. His affections needs no words at least, not with the press of their bodies and the fan of ragged wings around them. Ronin's emotions are not unlike the bioluminescence that coats his body, pressing warm against Remi and staining him with the shapes of his love.
"More," he urges - he'd beg if he thought he needed to, but for all of their godly endurance, he doesn't think Remi's self control would last to the point of him begging. His affections needs no words at least, not with the press of their bodies and the fan of ragged wings around them. Ronin's emotions are not unlike the bioluminescence that coats his body, pressing warm against Remi and staining him with the shapes of his love.
one more wish for you
