but baby i've been here before; i've seen this room and i've walked this floor
Whatever body Isla was in, Remi is sure he would want her just as much. Love her just as much. And so it's a strange thing to be pawing so desperately at her flesh, wanting her for what she is in the moment as much as who she is. Her body is beautifully unfamiliar and his hands yearn to map and explore, and perhaps it's that that finally stalls his headlong rush into this sensation; she doesn't feel what he does. Not in the same way.
Cold air rushes down against his skin as Isla's fingers deftly unbutton his pants. It's then that he too becomes aware of just how slick his neck has become, how sticky and heavy the collar of his shirt, and how blood has begun to create tributaries down his chest.
For a moment he stares at her blankly, the blue of her eyes, cream of her skin and blood on her lips so bold in their little moonlight cavern that it's disorienting. His chest heaves with every breath, causing more blood to spill from his neck and create new and bloody rorschach patterns on his skin. "Gods, no, I'm sorry." Remi interrupts, his voice shaky but not from lack of blood.
Pulling in a breath and holding it, Remi releases the hand coiled in Isla's hair and places it against his neck to encourage his blood to clot. The other is still around her back though; even as the chemicals fade, whatever remains is not quite ready to give up the friction between them.
'I...' Remi starts, his lips curling around words he can't quite find, unable to apologize in a way that recognizes that he'd do this all again. And probably will. "...I really can't help myself, with you.' He manages after a moment, his green eyes doubtful and desperate to understand.
Cold air rushes down against his skin as Isla's fingers deftly unbutton his pants. It's then that he too becomes aware of just how slick his neck has become, how sticky and heavy the collar of his shirt, and how blood has begun to create tributaries down his chest.
For a moment he stares at her blankly, the blue of her eyes, cream of her skin and blood on her lips so bold in their little moonlight cavern that it's disorienting. His chest heaves with every breath, causing more blood to spill from his neck and create new and bloody rorschach patterns on his skin. "Gods, no, I'm sorry." Remi interrupts, his voice shaky but not from lack of blood.
Pulling in a breath and holding it, Remi releases the hand coiled in Isla's hair and places it against his neck to encourage his blood to clot. The other is still around her back though; even as the chemicals fade, whatever remains is not quite ready to give up the friction between them.
'I...' Remi starts, his lips curling around words he can't quite find, unable to apologize in a way that recognizes that he'd do this all again. And probably will. "...I really can't help myself, with you.' He manages after a moment, his green eyes doubtful and desperate to understand.
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
