Isla
You don't need to thank me lays dormant behind her teeth, waiting for release, and you're welcome quickly rises in its place when she ops not to pollute the moment with words. A smile does kick up the corner of her mouth, however, borne from soft understanding that she might be seeing the Flood properly for the first time. There are shutters that might well slam back down on both of their parts by tomorrow, but here and now, there's no hiding.
Leaning into his touch, Isla is drawn back into Sunjata's kiss without resistance, and she needs no persuasion to shift closer and sit astride him in his lap. Looping her free arm around his shoulders, the other slips from his cheek and up into salt and pepper hair, still cropped short and tidy, though she remembers once upon a time when it had been longer.
Drawing back from his kiss for no other reason than to hitch up her sundress and draw it over her head, Isla finds herself suddenly craving the warmth of bare skin, the sort of heat that only kindles between two bodies. Tossing her dress aside, her body arches against Sunjata, as if begging for the touch of his hands.
Leaning into his touch, Isla is drawn back into Sunjata's kiss without resistance, and she needs no persuasion to shift closer and sit astride him in his lap. Looping her free arm around his shoulders, the other slips from his cheek and up into salt and pepper hair, still cropped short and tidy, though she remembers once upon a time when it had been longer.
Drawing back from his kiss for no other reason than to hitch up her sundress and draw it over her head, Isla finds herself suddenly craving the warmth of bare skin, the sort of heat that only kindles between two bodies. Tossing her dress aside, her body arches against Sunjata, as if begging for the touch of his hands.
I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard
When you hit me, hit me hard
