Isla
Isla absolutely does feel it, and with the room's effect in full swing, it makes her want to both laugh and scream at being able to enjoy such comparatively minor sensations. And so down they tumble onto the bed, struggling to undress each other like teenagers. "Oh, I've got no doubt that you are," she chuckles, though there's a definite heat lacing through her words. Granted, those very same words are muffled as Cal tries to pull her shirt over her head, Isla huffing out a victorious breath once she can finally ball it up and throw it to the side.
"Cal," she says with a chuckle, trying to push his shirt down over his shoulders. "At this rate it'll be over before it starts." It's only a joke, but she does lean in for a softer kiss, her tongue teasing against his lips, her hands drifting in a slow whisper down his chest. "Gods, I love the feel of you."
"Cal," she says with a chuckle, trying to push his shirt down over his shoulders. "At this rate it'll be over before it starts." It's only a joke, but she does lean in for a softer kiss, her tongue teasing against his lips, her hands drifting in a slow whisper down his chest. "Gods, I love the feel of you."
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight
we're always running scared but holding knives
we're always running scared but holding knives
