dream ♦ 008

[nolessthanseven]

Filtered from children
Warnings slightly racy innuendos, but nothing outright smutty.
Effects none.

Isabelle moans.

It is his fault, that man - decidedly unknown, for any distinguishing features about him were completely hidden - nibbling his way along her neck, his hands wandering. She swats at his hand, batting at him uselessly as if complaining, trying to pry him off when she's clearly enjoying herself. The angle is as such that nothing is visible, but it was obvious what's happening.

It almost seems fuzzy, like the dream was purposefully blurring out the identity of the male whose embrace she occupies; it serves also to hide their limited nudity, for neither of them wear shirts. Isabelle's scars are fully visible, thin swirling lines of white against otherwise pale skin, and everything important is hidden by her own conveniently placed limbs.

He mumbles something, and she giggles, hands creeping down his arms. They shift in a flurry of her skirts, all silver and glittering in the low light, and she kisses him full on the mouth, muffling her giggles and his mumbles before they roll again, tumbling away in a grander sort of flourish.

[Isabelle can't help but flush, tugging the sheets up her body for modesty's sake as she stirs out of the dream, rolling back over to return to it - she can't deny that it's pleasant, after all. The feed times out eventually.]