Isla
It would be easy if the feeling of ecstasy wasn't so perfectly echoed in Isla. It would barely be a flash of a moment - drink, take, draw back - but that simply isn't the case. And for the medic this is the first true and physical feeling to flood through her in what seems like much longer than her time back from the dead. It's a firework that begins low in her belly, roaring outwards into her fingertips and the apples of her cheeks.
She moves willingly and eagerly as Remi urges her closer, a moan thrumming up in her throat, and she's both melting and tensing against him. Her fingers flex up and into his curls, tightening there to expose his neck further still, and as his hand finds the back of her thigh she's already shifting as if to straddle his lap. She shouldn't - that's the whole point of them having decided to sit up - but no one is there to tell that to the parts of Isla still thinking logically. (Mainly because there aren't any).
She moves willingly and eagerly as Remi urges her closer, a moan thrumming up in her throat, and she's both melting and tensing against him. Her fingers flex up and into his curls, tightening there to expose his neck further still, and as his hand finds the back of her thigh she's already shifting as if to straddle his lap. She shouldn't - that's the whole point of them having decided to sit up - but no one is there to tell that to the parts of Isla still thinking logically. (Mainly because there aren't any).
sooner or later, we all have to wake
and try forgetting everything
and try forgetting everything
