Isla
Isla gasps - a mingling of surprise and pleasure - as Cal hitches her up into his arms; she reaches out to direct his lips back against her own, her fingers tightening in his hair as if to draw another frustrated grumble from his throat. "Mm, and what does being entirely yourself entail?" she wonders, already trying to kick off her shoes (they clonk awkwardly nearby) as they approach the bed.
Only once she's either set down or wriggles down (or pulls them down) onto the bed does she shrug properly out of her coat, hooking her calf around Cal's waist to try and drag him on top of her. "Forever is too long," Isla mumbles. "We'll have to make this a more regular thing." Maybe then she won't be trying to unbutton his shirt with such haste that she risks ripping it open.
Only once she's either set down or wriggles down (or pulls them down) onto the bed does she shrug properly out of her coat, hooking her calf around Cal's waist to try and drag him on top of her. "Forever is too long," Isla mumbles. "We'll have to make this a more regular thing." Maybe then she won't be trying to unbutton his shirt with such haste that she risks ripping it open.
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight
we're always running scared but holding knives
we're always running scared but holding knives
