believer, believe it

"Mm, I prefer our parties," Isla informs Cal, grinning up at him. The parties where it's just the two of them and neither of them are wearing any clothes, she means. No one needs to be a dragon and there doesn't need to be anything fairytale about it, but it's nonetheless a party; she'll defend that to the last. Giggling as he nestles in the way of her kisses to steal her lips himself, the medic melts against him, her fingers twining up and through his dark hair. "No plans, other than what we're already doing," she murmurs into the kiss, shrugging against him. "And I all but demand that you help me relax. The only caveat is that I also get to help you relax." That seems like a fair deal, right? Isla the flesh is weak