we're always running scared but holding knives
"I think I have some idea," Isla objects, as playful as she is breathless, her words almost whispered against the shell of Remi's ear. "I know sometimes it must seem confusing because of how I have to be, in the medical wing. I put on a good show at being professional, but every time I see you, I just--" Cut off - and that's no bad thing, honestly - by Remi drawing back, Isla arches her hips against the press of his fingertips along her thighs.
Inhaling a shaky breath as he tugs away layers of clothing it's winter so yes but whatever, Isla wishes she had time to sit up and pull off the suddenly restrictive dress she's chosen. And in a darker pool of her memory, she wishes Remi, golden eyed and pale, would rip it off her entirely. Either way, the wendigo won't be prevented in his ministrations, and Isla gazes up at him with eager expectation.
Inhaling a shaky breath as he tugs away layers of clothing it's winter so yes but whatever, Isla wishes she had time to sit up and pull off the suddenly restrictive dress she's chosen. And in a darker pool of her memory, she wishes Remi, golden eyed and pale, would rip it off her entirely. Either way, the wendigo won't be prevented in his ministrations, and Isla gazes up at him with eager expectation.
Isla
