Summer grumbled, wrapping her arms around her middle. It felt like someone had their hands in her guts and was twisting, and she hated it. She’d much rather be home, lying on the couch with maybe some chocolate and a heating pad. “I hate this,” she whined. “I wish I could just be male for this one week, you know?”
The world seemed to go completely still for a moment, and she looked up, confused. Then magic coiled around her and yanked her off her feet, and her consciousness was blotted out.
”Please!” he begged, hearing another voice — familiar, soothing. Though it stumbled, the other voice was associated with relief of this aching need. “I need — I need … touch me, please, Isaac, I need you.” To be brought so close to the brink, and then left there, desperate — it blotted out any other thoughts.
Such as the realisation of what had actually happened.