right now everything you want is wrong
& right now all your dreams are waking up
& right now all your dreams are waking up
"Yes Isla?" Remi wonders, his eyes dark and primal as he gazes up at her from his place between her thighs. While it's true that it has been a long time since he's been in this position, Remi's was always a diligent and careful mind. Even moreso perhaps because it helped keep his cover. Still, to suggest he'll be any good at this after so many years is perhaps a stretch. But gods if he isn't going to try.
"Tell me.." He muses as his hands move to reposition her, draping her legs over his shoulders and then resting on her lower back as if she were some platter upon which his meal was to be served. "..I'd heard that, multiple orgasms aside, the first is usually the best." With his hands on her, Remi would share in the experience of her climax, and so his question was entirely selfishly motivated.
With his eyes still fixed on hers, on the silvery sheen of her cheeks and the way her lips twist with unspoken words—curses, demands, pleas—he ghosts his tongue along the warm wetness of her lips, pressing inwards in a sweeping arc that he might come away with the full symphony of her taste. He knows enough to know that he'll have to migrate higher, that true ecstasy will be found a few inches from where he is currently concerning his efforts, but gods if it hasn't been a while since he's taken his time. With Ronin, ever since the night that began with Safrin's shrine, everything has been quick. A race in which they're both expert sprinters.
Growling against her, his lips vibrating with the rumble in his chest, his fingers tighten against her skin, drawing her up against his mouth effortlessly. 'The taste of you..' He moans against her, ravenous and predatory.
"Tell me.." He muses as his hands move to reposition her, draping her legs over his shoulders and then resting on her lower back as if she were some platter upon which his meal was to be served. "..I'd heard that, multiple orgasms aside, the first is usually the best." With his hands on her, Remi would share in the experience of her climax, and so his question was entirely selfishly motivated.
With his eyes still fixed on hers, on the silvery sheen of her cheeks and the way her lips twist with unspoken words—curses, demands, pleas—he ghosts his tongue along the warm wetness of her lips, pressing inwards in a sweeping arc that he might come away with the full symphony of her taste. He knows enough to know that he'll have to migrate higher, that true ecstasy will be found a few inches from where he is currently concerning his efforts, but gods if it hasn't been a while since he's taken his time. With Ronin, ever since the night that began with Safrin's shrine, everything has been quick. A race in which they're both expert sprinters.
Growling against her, his lips vibrating with the rumble in his chest, his fingers tighten against her skin, drawing her up against his mouth effortlessly. 'The taste of you..' He moans against her, ravenous and predatory.
The Lullaby
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.
