right now everything you want is wrong
& right now all your dreams are waking up
& right now all your dreams are waking up
He thinks he might claw through the bed, tear off the headboard, or be forced to embed his own talons deep into his own flesh to keep his mind from dissipating altogether. It isn't the distraction he needs, but the sudden pitch of Isla's body and her lips recklessly against his own is enough to stave off his own lurking orgasm. Kissing her hard, and too familiar now with the taste of her to know if it's her fluid in his mouth or his blood, he moans shakily as his fingers find one of her nipples. Gods how it takes everything not to make it just disappear into nothing between his fingertips.
And so reach for one of her hands, he places her fingers on his own nipple that she might do just that.
"You." He snarls against her, like some sorf of condemnation. It isn't though, but praise rubbed over the sandpaper of Remi's mental state sometimes sounds the same. 'I"ll give you more." He growls again, sitting himself up again that he might guide her hips off of him, only to turn her around.
On their knees now Remi enters her from behind, flooded with this new experience of her . There are mirrors behind the headboard—because of course there are—and it's toward one of these that Remi faces them. She is small before him, her body not even able to cover his at any point. One of his hands stretches down between her thighs, picking up the rhythm she'd left off while the other possessively snakes up her body to grasp one of her breasts. She is his in this, and if she thinks this will end with his name screamed from her lips again, Isla will find she's quite wrong.
Wrapping one of his wings around her and placing the top of it against her lips, where muscle fuses against the bone, Remi all but gags her with it (not that she needs to breathe), as his pace becomes relentless. "Only you.." He whispers against her neck where his teeth have turned jagged against her skin. "..I'll only ever fuck you like this."
And so reach for one of her hands, he places her fingers on his own nipple that she might do just that.
"You." He snarls against her, like some sorf of condemnation. It isn't though, but praise rubbed over the sandpaper of Remi's mental state sometimes sounds the same. 'I"ll give you more." He growls again, sitting himself up again that he might guide her hips off of him, only to turn her around.
On their knees now Remi enters her from behind, flooded with this new experience of her . There are mirrors behind the headboard—because of course there are—and it's toward one of these that Remi faces them. She is small before him, her body not even able to cover his at any point. One of his hands stretches down between her thighs, picking up the rhythm she'd left off while the other possessively snakes up her body to grasp one of her breasts. She is his in this, and if she thinks this will end with his name screamed from her lips again, Isla will find she's quite wrong.
Wrapping one of his wings around her and placing the top of it against her lips, where muscle fuses against the bone, Remi all but gags her with it (not that she needs to breathe), as his pace becomes relentless. "Only you.." He whispers against her neck where his teeth have turned jagged against her skin. "..I'll only ever fuck you like this."
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.
