Isla
to share the space with simple living things, infinitely suffering
Chuckling at that - and maybe if it weren't for their soft voices and gentle touches, Isla would be more inclined towards that sort of gesture - instead, the Remedy tuts him softly. "It isn't the shirt's fault it doesn't suit you," she chides, her smile audible, one hand reaching up to thread her fingers through his curls as if to anchor him there a little longer.
Her breath catches a second time to feel his hand slip between her thighs, her fingers tightening in his hair and her spaded tail curling about his leg, and it's difficult not to want to press herself back against the hard length of his cock again, even caged as it is behind clothing. Luckily enough (she supposes), Ever is much more composed than Isla - and has arguably had much more sex than she has in the past few weeks.
"I'm glad to hear you say so," she whispers, "because I haven't taken anyone into my bed since I saw you last in Torchline, and I think of you every time I touch myself."
It's with a great deal of reluctance that they separate, Isla in a slightly wrinkled dress and Ever with his shirt half unbuttoned, and she takes his hand gratefully to step over to the chaise lounge.
Her breath catches a second time to feel his hand slip between her thighs, her fingers tightening in his hair and her spaded tail curling about his leg, and it's difficult not to want to press herself back against the hard length of his cock again, even caged as it is behind clothing. Luckily enough (she supposes), Ever is much more composed than Isla - and has arguably had much more sex than she has in the past few weeks.
"I'm glad to hear you say so," she whispers, "because I haven't taken anyone into my bed since I saw you last in Torchline, and I think of you every time I touch myself."
It's with a great deal of reluctance that they separate, Isla in a slightly wrinkled dress and Ever with his shirt half unbuttoned, and she takes his hand gratefully to step over to the chaise lounge.
fighting off like all creation, the absence of itself
