right now everything you want is wrong
& right now all your dreams are waking up
& right now all your dreams are waking up
His tongue is as agile against hers as it was against her clit, knowing he can't coax quite the same response but damn well trying. The feel of her against him as he stumbles toward the bed and how his cock twitches below her back is precisely why he's picked her up like this. If this is to be his first, of sorts, he'll not rush into it with boyish neediness. Or at least not with as much boyish neediness.
And so as he lays her down, it isn't with virginal care. It isn't with loving tenderness and the reverence befitting all of these new firsts. No, it's the care of one setting down a silver platter for a banquet, topped with decadent desserts that know they won't last more than a few seconds before they're devoured. So it is that Isla is placed upon the bed. Her words cause a shiver to run through him, starting at the base of his spine and spiriting upward.
Remi's hands glide up Isla's thighs before they fall to the bed on either side of her. Drawing himself up the length of her, his body touching hers in places that their peaks align, he pauses only when the tip of his cock brushes against skin he knows well is already slick. It isn't at all like it is with Ronin, or any other man, really. He can't look Ronin in the eyes like this, at least not with the Star's body entirely curled and his feet near his ears.
He might have leaned down to kiss Isla, were it not for the feeling of the head of his cock sliding into her. Slowly, only a few inches in, and already Remi's breath is ragged, and the muscles of his arms shaking. The look he offers the medic is ever-changing, from shocked to overcome, delighted, and then insatiable. "Oh gods," He gasps, reaching a hand up to grip the blankets for better purchase as he slowly, but deliberately, presses himself all the way inside of her. 'Isla—' He pants again, his breath coming in rapid beats now as if he's on the verge of hysteria. Dropping his forehead to her shoulder, his hips pull back that he might repeat the progression all over again. "—Isla—"
It isn't the pace he'll stay at for long, but gods he can hardly wrap his mind around it. She's soft and wet in ways he's never known. Even the angle, the curve of her is so different than it is with the men Remi's been with. It steals his sanity—his soul, it feels like—replacing it with perhaps the closest approximation to what he once had with Isla when she was truly a part of him.
And so as he lays her down, it isn't with virginal care. It isn't with loving tenderness and the reverence befitting all of these new firsts. No, it's the care of one setting down a silver platter for a banquet, topped with decadent desserts that know they won't last more than a few seconds before they're devoured. So it is that Isla is placed upon the bed. Her words cause a shiver to run through him, starting at the base of his spine and spiriting upward.
Remi's hands glide up Isla's thighs before they fall to the bed on either side of her. Drawing himself up the length of her, his body touching hers in places that their peaks align, he pauses only when the tip of his cock brushes against skin he knows well is already slick. It isn't at all like it is with Ronin, or any other man, really. He can't look Ronin in the eyes like this, at least not with the Star's body entirely curled and his feet near his ears.
He might have leaned down to kiss Isla, were it not for the feeling of the head of his cock sliding into her. Slowly, only a few inches in, and already Remi's breath is ragged, and the muscles of his arms shaking. The look he offers the medic is ever-changing, from shocked to overcome, delighted, and then insatiable. "Oh gods," He gasps, reaching a hand up to grip the blankets for better purchase as he slowly, but deliberately, presses himself all the way inside of her. 'Isla—' He pants again, his breath coming in rapid beats now as if he's on the verge of hysteria. Dropping his forehead to her shoulder, his hips pull back that he might repeat the progression all over again. "—Isla—"
It isn't the pace he'll stay at for long, but gods he can hardly wrap his mind around it. She's soft and wet in ways he's never known. Even the angle, the curve of her is so different than it is with the men Remi's been with. It steals his sanity—his soul, it feels like—replacing it with perhaps the closest approximation to what he once had with Isla when she was truly a part of him.
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.
