the pause between breathing

"Oh, gods--" Isla melts forward as he surges up to meet her, their lips crashing together in a kiss that's almost as needy and desperate as their first go round had been. Her arms slip around Varus, the pads of her fingers as soft as ever once more as she lets her hands roam across any part of him she can touch, drifting down his back and pressing to his chest over where his heart should be. She's similarly greedy for his touch, too, relishing the hot and cold of his hands, the taste of him, the prickle of the scruff on his cheeks and the softness of his lips. Slowly, Isla sags further against him, as if to tempt him to lay back again in bed, though she doesn't part from their kiss until she absolutely has to. "I could get used to that," she whispers, her lips drifting along his neck and onto his chest now. Isla the flesh is weak