right now everything you want is wrong
& right now all your dreams are waking up
& right now all your dreams are waking up
It will leave scars, he's sure. The spacing suggests that the claw marks on his thigh were left there by a wild animal, though there's only one predator that the alchemist knows of who leaves such precise incisions. Feeling the sticky-slick froth of his own blood against his hand and hers has Remi sighing with relief. It bites into him and excites him in a way that isn't healthy, but what fucking of it. If no one else, surely the demigod of death is allowed to blur the lines between pleasure and pain.
Roughly Remi kisses Isla back. Her lips are soft and small compared to what he's used to, and gods if it suddenly feels as though there just isn't enough of her to satisfy him. Releasing his hand from around hers, he slips his bloody fingers roughly into her hair that he might take, take, and take again all that her lips and tongue have to offer.
Hard, she said. I won't break, she said.
The room. Isla. The feeling of being inside of her and the tangy-sweet smell of his own blood. It could not have been a more perfect, or dangerous combination on the heels of which to make such a request of him.
Tawny mane trundles down his neck and upper back, stopping as massive wings spread suddenly outward. With her legs already wrapped around his waist, it's all too easy for Remi to simply slip his hands around her, lifting her off the bed. One arm curls around her upper back while the other presses against her lower, anchoring her against him as his mouth seeks hers out. Seeking out a wall to press her against, not unlike he'd found himself doing in her exam room, Remi sinks one fully-taloned hand into the wall, piercing through the wood. With the other still on her lower back, Remi indeed fucks her hard. The sound of cock entering her, of his thighs slapping at her ass with every thrust, of curses and pleas that all sounded remarkably like her name—it was a fitting enough background melody for her request.
Roughly Remi kisses Isla back. Her lips are soft and small compared to what he's used to, and gods if it suddenly feels as though there just isn't enough of her to satisfy him. Releasing his hand from around hers, he slips his bloody fingers roughly into her hair that he might take, take, and take again all that her lips and tongue have to offer.
Hard, she said. I won't break, she said.
The room. Isla. The feeling of being inside of her and the tangy-sweet smell of his own blood. It could not have been a more perfect, or dangerous combination on the heels of which to make such a request of him.
Tawny mane trundles down his neck and upper back, stopping as massive wings spread suddenly outward. With her legs already wrapped around his waist, it's all too easy for Remi to simply slip his hands around her, lifting her off the bed. One arm curls around her upper back while the other presses against her lower, anchoring her against him as his mouth seeks hers out. Seeking out a wall to press her against, not unlike he'd found himself doing in her exam room, Remi sinks one fully-taloned hand into the wall, piercing through the wood. With the other still on her lower back, Remi indeed fucks her hard. The sound of cock entering her, of his thighs slapping at her ass with every thrust, of curses and pleas that all sounded remarkably like her name—it was a fitting enough background melody for her request.
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.
