Isla
Isla doesn't even need to breathe, and it's a dangerous and intoxicating feeling, to ride this neverending wave of bliss without consideration for a break, or for propriety. Her hum of pleasure against Remi's neck is little more than a vibration in her throat, her fingers clutching at any part of him available as he reaches for her, lifts her up. She arches against him, anchoring their bodies together, even if there is little more than emotion to show for it on her side.
Her medical implements go scattering to the ground, something that has a huff of a laugh trying to hitch in her throat, but then her back is pressed to the wall, her legs wrapping against Remi's hips, and the flood of copper on her tongue and heat in her belly proves far too distracting to ignore.
Eventually - and it's much longer than could be considered safe - her teeth slip from his neck and her arms drape around his shoulders, leaving the medic rosy-cheeked and covered in blood to look hazily up at him.
Her medical implements go scattering to the ground, something that has a huff of a laugh trying to hitch in her throat, but then her back is pressed to the wall, her legs wrapping against Remi's hips, and the flood of copper on her tongue and heat in her belly proves far too distracting to ignore.
Eventually - and it's much longer than could be considered safe - her teeth slip from his neck and her arms drape around his shoulders, leaving the medic rosy-cheeked and covered in blood to look hazily up at him.
sooner or later, we all have to wake
and try forgetting everything
and try forgetting everything
