RONIN
"Maybe it's not metal at all. Can you imagine having a diamond tongue?" Ronin muses, shifting so he can sit behind his husband and give him the full panorama of the boat before and above them. Arms slipping loosely around his waist, Ronin lets his chin rest on a warm, well-muscled shoulder, and he directs his nimbus here and there as best he knows how. Because he isn't paying the slightest bit of attention to his husband's analysis - unless watching the Lullaby's expression shift and change counts - it means he absolutely has no idea what the other man wants from him.
But they get there eventually, and he glances up as a very deft claw scrapes a barnacle from the underside of the boat. "It is, right?" he agrees, leaning in to kiss a stubbled cheek that smells of spiced cider. "I think it definitely counts. Can you get one for me as well? We'll hang a beautiful pair of barnacles on the tree."
But they get there eventually, and he glances up as a very deft claw scrapes a barnacle from the underside of the boat. "It is, right?" he agrees, leaning in to kiss a stubbled cheek that smells of spiced cider. "I think it definitely counts. Can you get one for me as well? We'll hang a beautiful pair of barnacles on the tree."
one more wish for you
