EVEREST
Breathless but keen, Ever's mind is far too fractured and new at this to be comparible at all to any of Isla's past trysts. She'll notice that as his tongue becomes more articulate, the movements of his fingers grow slower, their movements jerky. Indeed, the times his hands begin to properly feel her, she'll find that she's the one doing most the kissing against a mouth helpless to do much more than gasp for air.
And gods, when she pushes herself against him, almost everything shuts down entirely such is the effect of her.
Though his lips form a question as they part, Everest keeps quiet and obediently takes her hand. Glancing only briefly at the map and his balled up shirt on the ground, it's with his free hand trying to cover his erection that he trails behind her (no one has taught him to tuck it into his waistband yet, alright).
The fresh air hits him like a punch, and though his cock is still acting as a divining rod, some semblance of thought starts to push through the haze. Enough for him to realize that this might be his first time, that he's going to have sex, and more impossibly, that it's going to be with Isla. Trying to cement every detail into his mind—the feel of her hand in his, the way he could still taste her kiss on his lips, the smell of drying grass and eucalyptus from the garden—the aviator pulls in the deepest breath he can before mentally praying to Frey that he not disappoint Isla too badly.
And gods, when she pushes herself against him, almost everything shuts down entirely such is the effect of her.
Though his lips form a question as they part, Everest keeps quiet and obediently takes her hand. Glancing only briefly at the map and his balled up shirt on the ground, it's with his free hand trying to cover his erection that he trails behind her (no one has taught him to tuck it into his waistband yet, alright).
The fresh air hits him like a punch, and though his cock is still acting as a divining rod, some semblance of thought starts to push through the haze. Enough for him to realize that this might be his first time, that he's going to have sex, and more impossibly, that it's going to be with Isla. Trying to cement every detail into his mind—the feel of her hand in his, the way he could still taste her kiss on his lips, the smell of drying grass and eucalyptus from the garden—the aviator pulls in the deepest breath he can before mentally praying to Frey that he not disappoint Isla too badly.
the boards will still creak
the leaves will still die
the leaves will still die
