I swear I still believe but I don't know
It doesn’t even bother Ronin if they awaken the whole damned house. Apologies can be made in the morning, but right now is all about Remi and nothing more. It swamps his body and mind both, as if the sensations are an antidote to a poison that still lingers after his time in the grounds. His lips part in a moan at the Alchemist’s hands and lips against him; Ronin makes a good show at self-restraint, but there’s no doubt that his husband drives him wild, his fingers sliding into wet curls as if concerned that Remi might just stop.
”Fuck,” he whispers on a shaky exhale. Ronin’s blood is up, and the arousal from the lighthouse is now an exquisite ache deep in his loins; his pulse is a steady pounding against Remi’s finger, and the darkness split by occasional flashes of lightning paints pictures behind his eyes of bodies entwined, of things they might yet do.
Tightening his grip in Remi’s hair, he tilts the other man’s head back to capture his mouth in a kiss that begs for more, humming a note of need and grinding his hips teasingly against him.
”Fuck,” he whispers on a shaky exhale. Ronin’s blood is up, and the arousal from the lighthouse is now an exquisite ache deep in his loins; his pulse is a steady pounding against Remi’s finger, and the darkness split by occasional flashes of lightning paints pictures behind his eyes of bodies entwined, of things they might yet do.
Tightening his grip in Remi’s hair, he tilts the other man’s head back to capture his mouth in a kiss that begs for more, humming a note of need and grinding his hips teasingly against him.
the dark star
