Isla
Hissing in a breath she absolutely doesn't need, Isla suddenly adores the feeling of cool metal pressed against her hips and thighs, and silver paints a blush along her cheeks as her back arches, trying to offer more of herself up to his tongue and fingers. With her legs draped about his shoulders it's hardly possible to get closer than she is, and yet Isla still craves it. And when a finger slips inside her, accompanied by a hot kiss and a vibrating hum from his lips, it's almost too much.
"Fuck," she almost whispers, her fingers having slipped out of his hair now so she might grip the sheets instead, like she needs something to hold onto. "Cal, please..." Isla isn't above begging, clearly, and if that isn't evidence that she still wants him, she's not sure what else she can do (other than taking it for herself, but they're still playing coy, she thinks).
"Fuck," she almost whispers, her fingers having slipped out of his hair now so she might grip the sheets instead, like she needs something to hold onto. "Cal, please..." Isla isn't above begging, clearly, and if that isn't evidence that she still wants him, she's not sure what else she can do (other than taking it for herself, but they're still playing coy, she thinks).
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight
we're always running scared but holding knives
we're always running scared but holding knives
