the things we hold are always the first to go
"It most certainly is not too good for me. I haven't been a baron in a very long time, Remi," Ronin countered with a mischievous smile, arching his back slightly and watching with hungry eyes as the alchemist pulled himself into a kneeling position. Happily pressed against Remi (and with a pressure building between them to ensure that neither man would go far), Ronin welcomed the lips against his neck and let out a surprised laugh at the sudden petals cascading around them.
His laugh cut into a gasp and a moan at the sudden thrill of claws raking across his skin, Ronin quiet for a moment to simply enjoy this. The almost-pain of it; the aching heat making it uncomfortable to remain clothed; the way his heart beat fast and the way he wanted this, all of it, in a way he thought had stayed dead when he'd come back to life. His hands drifting down to Remi's hips, grinding them closer, Ronin exhaled a curse that was mumbled into the alchemist's curls. "Alright," he mumbled. "You've sold me on the floor. You didn't have to, but you've managed it."
His laugh cut into a gasp and a moan at the sudden thrill of claws raking across his skin, Ronin quiet for a moment to simply enjoy this. The almost-pain of it; the aching heat making it uncomfortable to remain clothed; the way his heart beat fast and the way he wanted this, all of it, in a way he thought had stayed dead when he'd come back to life. His hands drifting down to Remi's hips, grinding them closer, Ronin exhaled a curse that was mumbled into the alchemist's curls. "Alright," he mumbled. "You've sold me on the floor. You didn't have to, but you've managed it."
