oh my goddess

Sunjata won't be disappointed. Even without taking the obvious into account - that she's overwhelmed and overstimulated and utterly on fire at every flick of his tongue or nip of his teeth - it's been a long time for Isla, and being able to feel still seems like a privilege that might be snatched away from her at any moment. The pleasure-pain of the claim he leaves against her neck draws a encouraging moan from her lips, her breath stolen with each driving thrust of his hips. She wants to boast bruises in the shape of his handprints, wants to be marked by teeth and claws, and as his fingers sweep beneath her breasts and tease against her nipples, she finds herself leaning back further into the cage of his wings. Red cheeked and grasping for anything to keep her grounded, Isla's fingers finally slip away from his horns to press against his chest, using the leverage of their bodies to increase the pace of her hips. "I want you," she whispers. "Harder." ISLA when it's just the two of us, only the two of us, I could die