Isla
"You're not helping either," Isla fires back with a fanged smile, stretched beneath him with her legs haphazardly locked around his waist. She does try to school her hands into behaving, but it's a difficult thing when she's so greedy for his touch, wanting to map the ladder of his ribcage, every bruise and mark and tattoo that decorates his skin.
Leaning into his caress, Isla gently captures the fingers that skate along her cheek, pressing them to her lips without a thought. "Especially when you look at me like that," she continues, tilting her head up at Sunjata, his eyes a warm yet predatory steel framed by a fan of dark lashes, his smile the crooked sort that promises something wicked and tender all at once.
Perhaps it's this that prompts her next remark, her head sinking back against the pillows, topaz horns gleaming against the light spilling in from the window. "Are we really just business partners?" she whispers. "Or is that just what we tell people?" Gods know Isla understands the cold dread of admitting there's something she cares about enough that would hurt if she lost it. But here, like this with the Flood, the truth comes knocking.
And it terrifies her, quite frankly, so it's with a flush to her cheeks that she shakes her head, squeezing his fingers in her own. "Don't answer that. I'm being silly."
Leaning into his caress, Isla gently captures the fingers that skate along her cheek, pressing them to her lips without a thought. "Especially when you look at me like that," she continues, tilting her head up at Sunjata, his eyes a warm yet predatory steel framed by a fan of dark lashes, his smile the crooked sort that promises something wicked and tender all at once.
Perhaps it's this that prompts her next remark, her head sinking back against the pillows, topaz horns gleaming against the light spilling in from the window. "Are we really just business partners?" she whispers. "Or is that just what we tell people?" Gods know Isla understands the cold dread of admitting there's something she cares about enough that would hurt if she lost it. But here, like this with the Flood, the truth comes knocking.
And it terrifies her, quite frankly, so it's with a flush to her cheeks that she shakes her head, squeezing his fingers in her own. "Don't answer that. I'm being silly."
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
