this madness of now

The only sound in the glade in the wake of their acrobatics was the huff of breath between them. Ronin - sore and tired and spent and so many other conflicting emotions - pressed his cheek against his husband's sweaty curls, blue eyes wanting to close but fearing what would lay in the darkness there. If they stayed where they were, just like this, perhaps they never had to return to the reality of what they had done, what they were doing, where they were going and where they'd been banished. If Ronin could, he would. A hand, strangely gentle, danced along Remi's back and through feathers and across skin, and the hunter let out a shuddering sigh that wanted to be content but didn't quite get there. His other hand, still wrapped in Remi's hair, loosened to something less desperate, less fierce, and he tried to find the courage to say something. Tried and failed. RONIN Darkness is a funny thing. It creeps up on you.