when it's just the two of us, only the two of us
Isla isn’t sure what she’s expecting, but when it comes (not quite yet, but you get it), it’s far from a disappointment. Remi grips ahold of her and surges up, lifting her as easily as a ragdoll, and the movement and the thrust of him deeper inside her drags a heady moan from her lips. Anchored around him, her arm laces around his shoulders, and greedy fingers trace tawny fur down to the explosive expanse of wings from his shoulders.
Do you even know? she wants to say, though her tongue and teeth are otherwise occupied. Do you even know how breathtaking you are? Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me? But of course those sweet nothings will have to wait, because Remi’s claws are buried in the wall and he’s burying himself in Isla in a frenzy that borders on violent.
And the medic is loathe to forsake even a second of it on shoulds and maybes - Remi barely gives her room to breathe (not that Isla needs it), and her stuttered cries of ecstasy come wrapped around fragments of his name, again and again with each pounding thrust, until it doesn’t matter whether it’s pleasure or pain causing it. All that matters is getting more.
It might make sense, then, that as the heat building within Isla rises to a fever pitch, she doesn’t have time to tell Remi he’s about to make her cum again. She doesn’t have time to do much more than buck and roll with it, her fingers clutching into the back of his hair to drag his head to the side. And at the crest of orgasm, Isla leans in to sink her teeth deep into the Lullaby’s neck, injecting a fresh and maddening crackle of pleasure into something that’s already nearly unbearable.
She tightens around him, every muscle screaming with her release, and it’s only the blood welling against her lips that stifles the siren song of pleasure rising in her throat.
Do you even know? she wants to say, though her tongue and teeth are otherwise occupied. Do you even know how breathtaking you are? Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me? But of course those sweet nothings will have to wait, because Remi’s claws are buried in the wall and he’s burying himself in Isla in a frenzy that borders on violent.
And the medic is loathe to forsake even a second of it on shoulds and maybes - Remi barely gives her room to breathe (not that Isla needs it), and her stuttered cries of ecstasy come wrapped around fragments of his name, again and again with each pounding thrust, until it doesn’t matter whether it’s pleasure or pain causing it. All that matters is getting more.
It might make sense, then, that as the heat building within Isla rises to a fever pitch, she doesn’t have time to tell Remi he’s about to make her cum again. She doesn’t have time to do much more than buck and roll with it, her fingers clutching into the back of his hair to drag his head to the side. And at the crest of orgasm, Isla leans in to sink her teeth deep into the Lullaby’s neck, injecting a fresh and maddening crackle of pleasure into something that’s already nearly unbearable.
She tightens around him, every muscle screaming with her release, and it’s only the blood welling against her lips that stifles the siren song of pleasure rising in her throat.
i could die
Isla
