remi .
âenough what ? â heâs mistaken salutations as salivating with some questionable tenses, âso what, those guys just spit on rocks all day ? i thought monks were meant to like, pray and shit ? â and any male proficient in yoga for a religious brother, apparently. remiâs brows draw closer together. his thoughts have begun to wander, but his hand remains with moses, solidly, and itâs becoming incessant. his arm is draped over him like a tightly-sewn shadow, and his hand works itâs way around the barricade of fabric, slipping underneath cotton to press into skin.Â
nandos had been a good idea, in theory, holding just the right amount of sentimentââââ  but now remi finds himself resenting the menu laid before him and the time it promises to consume. any waiter  ââ  sebastian, unfortunately, included ââ  will likely receive the same unfair irritation. he wants to go. remi crowds back into mosesâ space, his mouth grazing the underside of his jaw, full lips and the gentle scrape of stubble. âtheyâve got all the hot sauces over by the forks. we could just like, chug a bottle ân go. iâll suck you off now.â
moses looks decidedly dumbfounded, blue eyes squinting and head drawing closer as though proximity might be the thing to lend him the understanding that he lacks. remi has a decorated history of mishearing ( or not hearing at all ) and of filling in the gaps himself as best he can manage whenever he can be bothered to put forth the effort and moses has familiarised himself with that tenuous train of thought over time like someone might take up a new language but heâs at a loss here no matter how thoroughly he racks his drug-addled brain.
âwhoâs spitting on rocks?â the cackle that bursts forth then is unabashed. it cuts through the hum of the restaurantâs chatter, draws attention from nearby tables in time for his blonde head to dip back and his pale hand to press against remiâs denim-clad inner thigh ostensibly so it might be the thing to ground him.
it doesnât, though the drag of remiâs mouth against his skin does well to interrupt the golden afterglow of a belly laugh. in a moment heâs bewitched, palm a gentle pressure at the nape of remiâs neck to keep him close ââ keep them in that velveteen bubble of provocative promises and of a comfort that moses canât seem to find elsewhere. he can recognise a neediness in remiâs movements ââ in the hum of his proposition ââ that he looks to ease with the tilt of his chin and the graze of his own full mouth against the remnants of a sunny tan. âin the car?â








