right now everything you want is wrong
& right now all your dreams are waking up
& right now all your dreams are waking up
Remi might have said something stupid like, You've never been with me before, but his lips are too busy, wrestling as they are against inarticulate sounds. 'Isla—' He tries, before the need to breathe steals the words and he pants a moan into her hair. Isla, you're beautiful, the words might have been; You're everything, or gods I'm so lucky to have you. They might equally well have been a threat, a promise, or some sort of vow. Instead, all the alchemist can manage is breathlessly reciting her name over and over again into her neck, the words said as much with his lips as they are with his teeth.
Dizzy with desire now, Remi's shoulders roll beneath her fingertips as her hands move lower. One of his comes to anchor himself under her lower back, and as he thrusts into her again, he presses upward as if he might somehow find himself even deeper inside of her. There is sweat shining across his back now too, though not from exertion. Remi is far too fit a specimen to be taxed by this, but then again his emotions haven't been tried like his for quite some time.
Missionary might be one of the plainest of positions according to most, but it certainly doesn't feel that way to Remi. Arching his back and pressing himself up with the hand previously entangled in the sheets, Remi gorges himself on the way her body is splayed out beneath his, of the cleft of her hip and how it makes his mouth water. Of where they connect and the way it feels to reassert that connection with every thrust of his hips.
Reaching for one of Isla's hands, he'll fit his over hers that he might press her fingertips into the flesh of his thigh. He'd felt talons previously, or so he thought, and gods his mind needed the distraction of pain lest this end before he had a chance to fuck Isla in all the ways he never knew he wanted to.
Dizzy with desire now, Remi's shoulders roll beneath her fingertips as her hands move lower. One of his comes to anchor himself under her lower back, and as he thrusts into her again, he presses upward as if he might somehow find himself even deeper inside of her. There is sweat shining across his back now too, though not from exertion. Remi is far too fit a specimen to be taxed by this, but then again his emotions haven't been tried like his for quite some time.
Missionary might be one of the plainest of positions according to most, but it certainly doesn't feel that way to Remi. Arching his back and pressing himself up with the hand previously entangled in the sheets, Remi gorges himself on the way her body is splayed out beneath his, of the cleft of her hip and how it makes his mouth water. Of where they connect and the way it feels to reassert that connection with every thrust of his hips.
Reaching for one of Isla's hands, he'll fit his over hers that he might press her fingertips into the flesh of his thigh. He'd felt talons previously, or so he thought, and gods his mind needed the distraction of pain lest this end before he had a chance to fuck Isla in all the ways he never knew he wanted to.
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.
