Isla
to share the space with simple living things, infinitely suffering
Only now can Isla truly appreciate the difference these past few weeks have made on the aviator. Not only in skill - because that can't be denied as she's easily moved in his arms, pulled back against his chest and fucked so expertly that it puts her memories of their previous dalliance to shame - but in sheer confidence. Surprised at the flush of heat that surges through her to see them both in the mirror, the Remedy feels delicate and almost owned in a way that has her wanting to beg for more for however long they both have.
Which isn't long at all, as it happens, because the feverish purr of Ever's voice against her ear already has her cresting wildly towards her climax. "I-- Ever, I'm--" If the stuttered words aren't enough, she's certain he'll understand what the end of her sentence should have been in the way her body shudders around him, tightening hard and lurching forward with the force of her orgasm.
And an advantage of the Dusklight is that no part of Isla feels the need to be quiet about it, her cries of pleasure likely audible from outside the door and then some. Behind her eyes she can already envision them in a dozen other positions, can hear herself whispering filthy instructions to the aviator about what she'd like him to do, or what she's going to do in turn. Gods if this once doesn't feel like enough, and even as the last waves of her orgasm begin to drag down the length of her thighs, Isla wants more.
Which isn't long at all, as it happens, because the feverish purr of Ever's voice against her ear already has her cresting wildly towards her climax. "I-- Ever, I'm--" If the stuttered words aren't enough, she's certain he'll understand what the end of her sentence should have been in the way her body shudders around him, tightening hard and lurching forward with the force of her orgasm.
And an advantage of the Dusklight is that no part of Isla feels the need to be quiet about it, her cries of pleasure likely audible from outside the door and then some. Behind her eyes she can already envision them in a dozen other positions, can hear herself whispering filthy instructions to the aviator about what she'd like him to do, or what she's going to do in turn. Gods if this once doesn't feel like enough, and even as the last waves of her orgasm begin to drag down the length of her thighs, Isla wants more.
fighting off like all creation, the absence of itself
