there will be scrapes and sutures; viciousness and victory
Ronin can't say it, because even his mental voice is reduced to snarls of colour and flares of needy emotion, but every word from Remi's lips is paradise to the Huntsman. It's at times like this that he's reminded of the lethal nature of their love, of the atrocities he'd commit to hear Remi whisper you're everything against his lips, the way cities would burn and crumble for just a brief taste of the Lullaby's love.
Somehow they've managed to keep to the comparatively gentle pace, at least in a physical sense, but apparently the two demigods have successfully managed to wage sexual war in their minds instead. Either way, Ronin moans his orgasm against soft lips and a clever tongue, his hips snapping forward to bury himself in the Lullaby a final time, even as sweat beads down his spine and his heart gallops in his chest.
"Fuck," he just about manages, unsure when he'd last felt so fucking exhausted. But here they are.
Somehow they've managed to keep to the comparatively gentle pace, at least in a physical sense, but apparently the two demigods have successfully managed to wage sexual war in their minds instead. Either way, Ronin moans his orgasm against soft lips and a clever tongue, his hips snapping forward to bury himself in the Lullaby a final time, even as sweat beads down his spine and his heart gallops in his chest.
"Fuck," he just about manages, unsure when he'd last felt so fucking exhausted. But here they are.
RONIN
