ISLA
Unsure how they're ever meant to get up and walk out after this - how they're supposed to act as if this isn't what Isla would rather be doing for the rest of the season week day, the Remedy throws herself into the here and now, relishing the way Ever's hands find her hips and the hot flutter of his breath against her skin. Letting her fingers curl into the back of his hair, as if she's been wanting to run her fingers through it for weeks (she has), it's almost impossible to keep her moan caged in her throat, but fuck if she just about manages it.
"I know," she whispers; not a boast but an agreement, because she feels it too, even as the roll and grind of her hips grows faster. The confined space and the pressure of time, of keeping quiet, of keeping this secret, will make it quite the feat for her to get herself off, but gods if she doesn't care right now. "Cum for me," she breathes against the shell of Ever's ear, fingers tightening in his hair, "and I'll be screaming your name later."
"I know," she whispers; not a boast but an agreement, because she feels it too, even as the roll and grind of her hips grows faster. The confined space and the pressure of time, of keeping quiet, of keeping this secret, will make it quite the feat for her to get herself off, but gods if she doesn't care right now. "Cum for me," she breathes against the shell of Ever's ear, fingers tightening in his hair, "and I'll be screaming your name later."
apres moi le deluge
after me comes the flood
after me comes the flood
