you're the waves at my feet

please just don't forget me Through hooded eyes, Ronin promises himself he’ll remember Remi like this, wings spread wide, lost in the throes of pleasure. But almost instantly that promise is broken in lieu of enjoying the real thing, and he mumbles a wordless exclamation of utter bliss as the alchemist curls in over him. His hand relaxes from its position braced against Remi’s chest, instead sneaking into his curls, playing over the back of his neck. Much better, he agrees wholeheartedly, his lips and tongue otherwise occupied. It’s with a huff of surprise that he lets himself be rolled off the nimbus, splashing back into the water with his arms wound about Remi. They float weightlessly in the heat, in the steam, and Ronin reaches out to run his fingers over still present wings, smoothing over flight feathers and marvelling at the feel of them. ”I’m nothing without you,” he mutters, relishing the realness of him, the way their limbs entangle and their bodies entwine. Ronin isn’t usually one for these kinds of proclamations, but in his time without Remi, it’s become abundantly clear - he really is nothing without him.