wild in the silence; no way to make it right
"What was that?" Remi asks, the wickedness of his smile cradling the words as he pulls himself to breathe. No sooner has he, then he's drinking in a gulp of air, his lips covering his teeth protectively as he slides Ronin's length into his mouth. It takes concentration and thoughtfulness to remind his throat to relax, but he's more than happy to do it. Indeed, he moans his enthusiasm, his hands emphatically adding to his motions. He wanted to feel Ronin's fingers shaky on his shoulder, be corralled by the Star's legs as he both begged for more and pleaded for less.
A posture of worship could hardly be used to describe Remi's current position, though he could absolutely understand why such a thing couldn't be done at Safrin's shrine or anywhere near it: Remi had Ronin in every way Safrin wanted, but couldn't. The Star's thoughts were clear (or even if they weren't, they were his own at the very least), and the only tricks up the Alchemist's sleeves were ones the Star would enjoy even when he recalled them the morning after.
Lathering spit against his husband's erection for later endeavors, the Alchemist lowers one of his hands to his own pants, still uncomfortably tight around his waist despite the loosening of his belt. Fumbling and then undoing them all together, Remi lets his tongue glide up Ronin's shaft one last time before moving up the length of his husband's torso. "I want you, Ronin.." Whispered words against the drumbeat of the storm outside. Sweat or water kept Remi's curls against his head as his back arched, hips grinding against his husband's, dealing out maddening pressure and promises of pleasures to come.
A posture of worship could hardly be used to describe Remi's current position, though he could absolutely understand why such a thing couldn't be done at Safrin's shrine or anywhere near it: Remi had Ronin in every way Safrin wanted, but couldn't. The Star's thoughts were clear (or even if they weren't, they were his own at the very least), and the only tricks up the Alchemist's sleeves were ones the Star would enjoy even when he recalled them the morning after.
Lathering spit against his husband's erection for later endeavors, the Alchemist lowers one of his hands to his own pants, still uncomfortably tight around his waist despite the loosening of his belt. Fumbling and then undoing them all together, Remi lets his tongue glide up Ronin's shaft one last time before moving up the length of his husband's torso. "I want you, Ronin.." Whispered words against the drumbeat of the storm outside. Sweat or water kept Remi's curls against his head as his back arched, hips grinding against his husband's, dealing out maddening pressure and promises of pleasures to come.
THE ALCHEMIST
i’ve been chasin the storm of a lovesick lonely lie
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
