flora
Twisting for all she was worth that she might simultaneously remain firmly on the soldier's lap but so that his lips might do more than press against her cheek, Flora happily trades a snarl of pain in her spine in order to press her mouth against Koa's. It's the sort of kiss that gets written about in Mateo's raunchy smut romance novels; the sort that's fast and hard and messy. The sort that's as much teeth as it is tongue, and gods if it doesn't feel as though the press of his lips is so much dry kindling on the wildfire already well ablaze between her thighs.
The descent of Koa's hand feels positively glacial in comparison, and while the Doubletake is absolutely trying to maintain an affect of sultry composure, she can't help the way she's suddenly holding her breath and squirming in the soldier's arms as if by sheer force of will alone she can force his hand lower. Only when it does reach its destination, it's with an impatient huff against his lips that Flora feels her patience burning away in the heat of his hands and mouth. It's just one little shred of fabric and yet somehow its presence has her mentally vowing never to wear underwear that she might never suffer this sort of interruption again.
"Koa, I swear to Frey." She pants, somehow sounding both frustrated and pleading. Where her one hand had been trying in vain to free his erection, now she slides it between her own legs to roughly tug aside the lace of her underwear. At the same moment, she lets her hips rise in a jerk so that even should he fail to do anything, she might still find some satisfaction. "Gods, I want you."
The descent of Koa's hand feels positively glacial in comparison, and while the Doubletake is absolutely trying to maintain an affect of sultry composure, she can't help the way she's suddenly holding her breath and squirming in the soldier's arms as if by sheer force of will alone she can force his hand lower. Only when it does reach its destination, it's with an impatient huff against his lips that Flora feels her patience burning away in the heat of his hands and mouth. It's just one little shred of fabric and yet somehow its presence has her mentally vowing never to wear underwear that she might never suffer this sort of interruption again.
"Koa, I swear to Frey." She pants, somehow sounding both frustrated and pleading. Where her one hand had been trying in vain to free his erection, now she slides it between her own legs to roughly tug aside the lace of her underwear. At the same moment, she lets her hips rise in a jerk so that even should he fail to do anything, she might still find some satisfaction. "Gods, I want you."
Just walk away, don't make me say
The only words I owe you: I told you so, I told you so
The only words I owe you: I told you so, I told you so
