hot whiskey eyes

Isla

Whilst it's true that Isla can and has had her way with lovers in the past, as Sunjata's fingers plunge through her fair hair and glide along the curve of smooth topaz, and she swears she can feel the heat from the flush to his skin, she's more interested in giving pleasure than taking it. Forced to catch her breath as well as he draws back from their kiss, the Remedy finds herself stretched exquisitely along the length of the Flood's torso, the curves of her body fitting seamlessly against him.

The appearance of horns and dark wings both is and isn't a surprise, Isla dropping a chaste kiss onto his lips, and another against the corner of his mouth over the strike of a silvery scar. "Is this how you see yourself?" she wonders through a whisper, even as she shifts enough to grind her hips against him and sit up. Her hands are gentle but no less thorough in their explorations, stroking along the expanse of one wing, even pausing to smooth across the joint she knows to have been broken once.

"So many scars," she remarks in the same, hushed tone, the Ancient snagging one of Sunjata's hands to slowly guide it over her body in return, up her torso and along the swell of her breasts, until she can press her lips to his fingertips. "Still going, though."

I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard