northern lights, neon skies, just you and I

Need a hundred lifetimes kinda love

The warm greeting of her tongue against his thumb sends another flare of want roiling straight through him, the ghost of that touch brushing against the tip still straining in his pants. He's half a mind to slip his thumb further into her mouth, but he hesitates, and instead contents himself with watching the gentle curl of her smile press in around his digit, words lilting behind it with all the sparkle of memory. It's one that stills him for a moment, breath catching briefly before he swallows, because gods, he almost didn't kiss her back, and what would his life be like now if he hadn't? Far worse, he's certain.

He tosses that useless what if away into the fold of her lips and the brush of pom-poms against his head. Her whisper, the notion that she'll never have another first kiss, ignites him so thoroughly his words burn up in the back of his throat. Her kiss doesn't come fast enough and he leans up to meet it, devouring her mouth with a deep and urgent passion. He palms each of her hips tightly, pulling her closer to the stiff outline of his trapped cock, urging her further into the press of him as if proximity alone might save him.

Her slow, deliberate movement has him tipping his head back for half a breath, breaking from her tongue with a groan. "Never, stop," he agrees, or tells, hard to say which at this point. He shifts her higher up onto him with a firm hoist of his hands, her chest swaying over him in a change of vire he doesn't mind in the slightest. He uses the new space to undo his pants while his head bows deeper into her, the motion holding all the quiet ritual of prayer as his mouth hums against her skin, driven further by the tempting scent of strawberry that seems to have gotten stronger. He trails reverent kisses over the slope of her breasts, freshly freed from the lace that still sags around her, unhurried despite the intent of his hands at his waist. He lingers, nipping at the red pasties that keep her from full exposure, no better than a dog with a bone now.

Kaisel

I could say forever, but forever ain't long enough

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

The sound he makes rips through her with volcanic force, a low groan that splits her spine with heat and curls fire through her ribs like ivy gone feral. Gods. Her hips roll again, helpless now, chasing that sharp-edged friction, that divine resistance that makes her thighs tremble and her breath catch in her throat. When he hikes her higher, her balance shifts, and for a breathless, reckless second all she wants is to crush herself down over his mouth and smother him with her thighs, to drag his tongue against the ache that's been burning inside her since before he even touched her.

But then his lips find her breasts and her mind blanks for a blissful moment. The red lace—half-destroyed, falling like torn petals from a storm-stripped bloom—gives way to the heat of his mouth. And gods, it’s not fair. The pasties melt against his tongue like sugar on hot skin, and she whimpers as one hand knots into his hair, anchoring her, because if she doesn't grab hold of something she's going to disintegrate, to go up in glitter and steam.

Distantly, she tries to gauge how far along he is with taking off his pants, because if he’s still dressed, if there’s still fabric between them, it might kill her. Her skin feels like a livewire, every nerve ending tuned to the heat of his mouth and the strain beneath her hips. "Gods, I want you so bad," she gasps, breath breaking over the words like waves over a reef. There’s no softness in it, no coyness, just need, sharp and searing and sacred.

Before he can speak, she catches his face in both hands, palms curved like seafoam along his jaw, and pulls him up to her mouth. Her lips crash against his like surf and thunder, like something wild coming home. The kiss isn’t sweet, it’s greedy, devastating, edged with teeth and breathless hunger. Her hips roll again, shameless now, chasing the heat between them like it’s the only light left in the world.

Above them, her hat tilts sideways, one pompom trailing across his cheek like a comet’s tail. The other bounces loose with each desperate kiss, ridiculous and tender all at once. Red lace pools at her hip like spilled wine, her chest bare now where he’s devoured her, and still she wants more—wants him—wants to feel every part of her pressed against every part of him with nothing left between them but heat and history and all the wanting they’ve carried since that first kiss in this very bed.

and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Need a hundred lifetimes kinda love

The first taste of sweetness striking his tongue catches him completely off guard. A startled sound puffs out against her skin, muffled by the swell of her breast against his mouth. The noise quickly dips into an appreciative hum, his attention slowing for the moment as the flick of his tongue becomes a tasing drag around the outline of each pasty, tracing the edges like he's testing for weaknesses. He'd thought the smell some sort of perfume, but with strawberry flavor flooding his mouth, it's an unmistakable punctuation to the gift of unwrapping her. "Oh," he croons with no amount of withheld delight. "My favorite." It's less word than vibration now as he abandons all sense of discovery and instead feasts on her chest, utterly shameless as he licks and suck her nipples free.

Amid the early dessert course, his hands finish what they started behind her. Pants are undone and tugged free, his arousal springing forth in full force. The effort to fully discard them is occasionally forgotten when the strawberry slap of her bosom in his face distracts him, but they thump to the floor along with his briefs by the time she seizes his head in her hands once more. He meets her without restraint, hands quickly seating back at her hips, fighting the wine stain of lace as she rocks into him. His head tips back into the breathless heat of her mouth, a groan buried in her throat as he pulls her down into him further, his own hips surging into her with relief for the contact. It strikes through him like his soul has just been returned to his body, so empty until he had her warmth coasting over him.

The pom-poms kiss him equally too, soft bats of motion and plush frenzy that knock against him in a manner that will linger long through this memory, he's sure. “Tell me how bad, Flora,” he manages, the sound rough as he chases the friction, fingers digging into her side like he’s afraid she might roll away otherwise. His thumbs hook at her hips with every intention of removing the last thing keeping her from him—and stop.

The fabric doesn't yield, and without missing a beat, he runs his thumbs back and tries again. He tugs, firmer this time, but nothing gives. The wild kiss breaks as he pulls back just enough to stare down at his hands. "The fuck?" He glances back up at her, then down again, brow furrowing. “You get the world's trickiest lingerie or ?” he breathes, incredulous.

Kaisel

I could say forever, but forever ain't long enough

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

The moment Flora feels him fully against her, that aching, velvet heat finally freed from constraint, she nearly chokes on a moan. Her mouth stutters against his, breath splintering like lightning behind her ribs, and everything inside her clenches with wild, helpless need. It’s too much and not enough all at once. Just a scrap of lace between them now, and gods, she’s burning alive beneath it.

Her hips grind against him, hungry, frenzied, desperate to erase the last barrier between them. The pressure of his fingers digs in like he’s afraid she’ll vanish, and it only makes her softer, wetter, molten beneath his touch. Smoke coils up through her, thick and slow, curling behind her eyes and making thought impossible. He wants to know how badly she wants him, and the question itself sends another wave crashing through her, sharp and dizzying and so intense it steals the air straight from her lungs. Want is too small a word for what coils inside her now. It’s a heat that lives under her skin, a tight, trembling ache that pulses between her hips and radiates outward, turning her thighs weak and her spine pliant, her entire body tilting instinctively toward him as if gravity itself has shifted. She feels claimed by it, pinned in place by the sheer force of needing him, by the certainty that nothing else in the world matters in this moment except the press of him against her, the promise of him inside her, the relief she knows is so close she can almost taste it. Her thoughts dissolve into colour and sensation, scarlet and gold and breathless, every nerve ending lit and singing and screaming for him.

She tries to speak, she really does, but the words tangle and fall apart before they ever reach her tongue. What could she even say that would come close to this? That she feels like she might shatter if he doesn’t touch her the way she needs, that the ache inside her is so deep it feels structural, like it’s woven into her bones? All that comes out is a small, broken sound, a helpless whimper that slips free as her body arches into his, her forehead dipping briefly toward his shoulder as if the intensity of it all has bent her in half.

"I need you so bad that—" she starts, the words breathless and shaking, and then the sentence fractures completely as his hands tug again and the lace refuses to give. The sudden pause, the frustration in the motion, jars her just enough to pull her back from the edge, awareness rushing in alongside the heat still thrumming through her veins. Her lips curve into something wicked and needy as she leans down toward him, breath hot against his ear, her teeth grazing his earlobe in a promise she has no intention of walking back. "Try using your teeth."

and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Need a hundred lifetimes kinda love

The mischief that creeps into her voice resonates cleanly through him despite the shiver that its delivery grants. It wedges in alongside the heat like a fresh spark waiting to catch, and oh, it does. Something bright and feral rises behind his eyes, a breathless laugh slipping out of him, rough and delighted. The sound of it is dragged low with want as his hands tighten reflexively at her hip. “With pleasure,” he answers without hesitation, the words still smiling on the curve of his lips as he moves, fluid and decisive.

He shifts them in one rolling motion, turning her beneath him so that her back meets the bed now and he rises above her. His weight settles in close enough to steal the air from her, the hard line of his cock slowly fitting back along the lace and her thighs with an aching patience. Of no mind to allow her time to adjust, he swiftly reaches up and tugs her hat down over her eyes, pom-poms swaying merrily as they become an improvised blindfold. Her golden curls stream out from under it in a wild and messy display, appearing like lightning striking into the sheets.

Leaning over her, he hovers, his breath the only betrayal of his admiration before his nose brushes the tip of hers. “Sit tight,” he instructs, voice so thoroughly drenched in want it bends warm and low against her lips. He doesn’t linger there though. Instead, he begins to descend. Hands trail down her sides, unhurried and exploratory, ranging from the whisper of fingertips to a pulse of grip that pushes into her skin. Along the way, brief kisses are generously applied to the tender areas of her body, punctuating the route. Eventually, the burning weight of his erection falls away from her, a momentary sacrifice for a greater gain, but not without seating her legs around him in a quiet promise not to go out of their reach.

He doesn’t draw it out, but he doesn’t rush, not until he gets to the line of lace that remains like the last stand of control. Here, he slides his thumbs over the fabric, tracing the feel of the enchanted cloth while his fingers curl around the dip at each hip. Once his grip is firm and sure against her, he pulls her toward him in one sudden, deliberate motion that has him exhaling sharply through his teeth. He’s guided her exactly where he wants her with a confidence that leaves no room for doubt, her ass now hanging off the edge of the bed, palms sliding up the bottoms of her thighs and tucking them over his shoulders like his latest scarf.

Steadily, he kneels before her, a thumb rolling up from her knee to the cradle of lace still clinging to her. His mouth follows, warm and purposeful as he claims the sweet strawberry once more. The burst of flavor is a reminder of what he’s already discovered, and what he clearly intends to enjoy further.

Kaisel

I could say forever, but forever ain't long enough

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

Flora moans into the curve of Kaisel's neck as he flips them, the sound thick with satisfaction and rising need as his body presses into hers. Her legs part instinctively beneath him, thighs falling open in open invitation as her arms wrap around his neck, drawing him impossibly closer. The weight of him is divine, delicious, pressing into her like he means to carve himself into her ribs and write himself into her bones. It knocks every last breath from her lungs, replacing air with flame, with want.

When he pulls her hat down over her eyes, she doesn’t bother fixing it. She doesn’t need to see, not when every nerve is lit up like bioluminescence beneath her skin, shimmering and alive. The world vanishes behind the veil of darkness and strawberry-sweet heat, her vision replaced by sensation alone. His descent is maddening, slow enough to set her trembling beneath his touch, to turn her anticipation into something unholy and sharp. She fists the sheets at her sides, trying and failing not to squirm, her body betraying her with every gasp, every ripple of muscle that answers his hands and his mouth.

As her legs are lifted, her breath stutters out of her as she feels his mouth lower between her thighs, hot breath brushing over the barely-there lace like a promise wrapped in fire. The sudden, electric contact is enough to tear a cry from her lips, her back arching from the bed as the magical lace does its job. It vanishes like spun sugar on his tongue, leaving nothing between her and the heat of his mouth.

A desperate sound claws its way out of her. One hand stays anchored to the bed, but the other lifts helplessly, fingers tangling into his hair as if she can’t bear the idea of him stopping, not even for a second. When tongue drives into her she moans his name, thighs tightening around him, body helpless to do anything but ride the wave of sensation that crashes through her like a summer storm. It’s too much and not enough, a wildfire fed by gasoline, a need that burns brighter the closer she gets.

Her toes curl, her hips rock without rhythm; she’s drowning in it, swimming in pleasure so thick it’s hard to breathe, to think, to remember anything but the feel of his mouth and the sound of her own ragged moans. She could let him keep going, gods knew he could make her cum like this so easily if she let him, but she's too greedy for even an ounce of patience anymore. 

"Kai, please," she gasps, her voice breathy and soaked in heat as she loosens her hold on his hair and drags the hat up over her eyes. Her vision returns in a blur of colour and need; cheeks flushed coral, curls clinging to her temples, aqua eyes heavy-lidded and pleading openly. Her lips part around the only thing that matters now. "Gods," she whispers, trembling. "Please, I need you." Her breath is ragged and the air smells like strawberry and want. "Fuck me." Her voice trembles around the plea, chest rising and falling in sharp, shallow breaths that make her breasts rise with each inhale. A flush blooms across her collarbones and spills downward in waves of heat, painting her skin a dewy pink that deepens across the soft swell of her breasts. Every part of her feels alive, overbright, too aware; her stomach fluttering with each desperate breath, her thighs trembling where they rest over his shoulders, her whole body caught between surrender and demand.

and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Need a hundred lifetimes kinda love

Every sound she makes wrecks him. The tremor in her voice, the way her body rolls beneath his attention, the raw need in how she says his name. It all hits him with a heady current that threatens to drag him under, pulling him right into the crash of her thighs like a drowning he isn’t convinced he wants to resist. His hands tighten reflexively at her hips, staying afloat in the brace of her skin instead of the halo of her heat.

Her plea begs his eyes rise over the conquest of lace and composure, and he’d be more wicked in his response if he wasn’t already trembling on his knees for her. Seeing her come undone, being the one to unlace her, it’s a pleasure in it’s own right, but fuck if having her beg for him doesn’t ring through his entirety with the unbearable need to respond. “Mm, Flora,” he murmurs with a kiss pressing into either leg wrapped around him. ”Only because you said please.” The teasing roll stays low and rough as he rises, one arm hooking around her legs to keep them on his shoulders.

His other hand slides up the plane of her abdomen, fingers rising and falling with the slope of her muscle, greedy with appreciation. With the grip around her legs, he tugs her further off the bed and towards him, suspending her remaining balance into his care. He doesn’t delay further, his cock needing little direction with the flush of her body and the eager tilt of her hips calling to him. Tilting his head into the crook of her knee, he groans with the relief of delayed gratification finally seized as he steadily fills her.

”Every time,” he breaths, fingers flexing against her. ”Every time, you feel so damn good, Flora.” The praise is drug from somewhere deep within as he surrenders to the absolution of his want. His restraint doesn’t hold beyond the first, slow thrust. It grabs hold with an ache for more, more, more. Her angle off the bad grants him a depth that he chases mercilessly, his rhythm intent to break her apart on his name. That, and he wants to see the pom-poms wiggle.

Kaisel

I could say forever, but forever ain't long enough

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

The sound of his voice splits her open, the sound low and teasing, rich with promise and sin. It rips straight through her spine like torn silk and wildfire, a low, vibrating purr that leaves her trembling before he even moves. Her breath catches as his lips press to her thigh, reverent and claiming, and it’s all she can do not to grind herself against his mouth and beg for more than kisses.

She braces herself as he lifts her higher, arms straining against the bed, curls sticking to her damp temples beneath the hat. "Please," she whispers again, soft and shaky, the word barely formed around the hunger that claws at her throat. She can’t see much through the haze of her pleasure and the angle of her body, but she looks up at him anyway, back arched, legs trembling, heart slamming against her ribs. Every muscle in her is drawn taut with need, as though desire alone is holding her together.

And then—gods. The slow, thick slide of him inside her is devastating. There’s no friction, no resistance, only the perfect, all-consuming stretch that leaves her breathless. Slick from the way he kissed her, from how long she’s wanted this, she takes him in completely, with a gasp that punches from her lungs and a cry of his name torn ragged from her throat. Her hips tilt instinctively, chasing more, wanting all of him, until there’s not a single part of her left untouched, unclaimed, and undone by him.

Satisfaction crashes through her like surf against rocks, beautiful and violent, but it's not enough. Already her body is tightening again, greedy and aching and desperate for more. "Fuck," she moans, head thrown back as her shoulders lift slightly off the bed, her limbs shaking with the force of her arousal. The praise he gives her only feeds the flames, his voice stroking down her spine like another set of hands. "Gods, you're everything," she gasps, nails dragging against the sheets before one hand reaches for him; for his face, his shoulder, anything she can touch. She ends up clutching at the muscle of his arm, fingers digging in as he begins to move.

And gods, when he does—when he starts to fuck her with real intent—it’s like a spell breaks. Her moans turn rhythmic, matching the steady, relentless thrust of his hips, her voice high and breathless and utterly shameless. Pleasure lights up her nerve endings in dazzling bursts, and there’s nothing quiet or polite about the way she takes it; every sound she makes is a prayer and a promise and a plea.

"Harder," she begs between moans, drowning in the feel of him, her body wracked with pleasure so sharp it borders on unbearable. "Please, Kai—fuck, don’t stop."

and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Need a hundred lifetimes kinda love

The sight of her like this is something he'll never tire of. Half-spilled over the edge of the bed, strewn out in arching gold beneath his guiding hands, Flora is all flushed heat and trembling want. Curls mussed and clinging to every part of her they touch, hat askew like the perfect cherry on top, pom-poms bouncing faintly with every breath she can’t quite steady. Her skin is luminous in the low light, blooming with heat and arousal that decorates her better than the lace could ever have hoped to. Her chest rising fast beneath the hitch of her breathing, eyes glossy and pleading above the pout of her lips, parting over sounds that threaten to drive him to madness. She's beautiful in so many ways, but like this, tight and rolling and needy around him, her radiance runs the risk of becoming divine.

Her begging pulls him forward without thought, one hand settling near her head against the mattress as he leans in further. The motion bends her knees up towards her chest, deepening his reach. The slope of the bed still wants to feed her off it with how much he's pulled her over its edge, but she's at no risk of falling with every thrust catching her, the strikes rich with her weight adding to the sensation. Every collision crests with pleasure, the angle of her doing as much work as his intent. The bed creaks softly below, lost to the ruinous sound of him delivering exactly what she's asked for.

His forehead dips close to hers, breath mingling, her presence surrounding him so completely he's certain it's her moans he's recycling back on his own tongue. “You—gods—Flora.” It’s not even a sentence, just air shoved out of a man beginning to crumble to rapture. He keeps her steady, keeps her held, even as he aims to send her to pieces with every relentless drive of his hips. Everything else has long since dissolved into heat and motion and the sound of her want, the world closed off to nothing more than the press of their bodies and the resolute knowledge that they have each other fully, fiercely, and without restraint. The scent of strawberries is the only thing that creeps in, new to this moment, and full of promise that it'll be captured now in memory such that he'll never be able to think of one again without imagining he here, just like this.

Kaisel

I could say forever, but forever ain't long enough

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

The moment Kai shifts forward, her body sings. It isn't just a stretch, it's a reckoning; every breath pressed out of her lungs as he fills her with such decadent precision that for a flicker of time, the only word she remembers is his name. Her eyes slam shut as her teeth sink into her bottom lip in a futile attempt to trap the moan already rising like a storm tide inside of her, but it doesn't work. Nothing could, because gods, the way he moves inside her feels like worship, like every thrust is a promise made with his body, delivered again and again in the rhythm of skin meeting skin. Her name on his lips isn't just a sound, it’s the spell that keeps her together when every part of her is coming undone.

Her hand scrabbles for purchase, curling hard against the slope of his shoulder, but it’s not enough. The need that’s built in her, slow and wicked and bright, crests all at once like something breaking through the sea floor and ripping toward the surface. Her long legs wrap tight around him, heels nudging, urging, trying to pull him impossibly closer even as her free hand slips between them, fingers frantic, trembling, slick as they find the aching knot of her own pleasure. And when she touches herself—when his cock drives in just right and her fingertips press—there’s no more restraint. She doesn't try to warn him, instead there's just a gasp that fractures into a sob as her head tips back and she moans his name like a litany. "Please, Kai—"

What happens next feels like being split open by light. Her orgasm crashes through her with the force of something elemental, some roaring, blooming force that doesn’t just take her, it ravages her. The swell begins in her feet, every toe curling, her calves trembling like wire drawn too tight, and then it expands. Her thighs clench around him, her back arches hard enough to lift her shoulders from the bed, and it’s only the grip of his body, the weight and the warmth of him, that keeps her from shattering completely. Her stomach tightens, fluttering and twisting with the tremors still raking through her, and there’s a flush racing up her chest like liquid sunrise, painting her collarbones, her breasts, even the undersides of her arms with a champagne lightness.

Her nipples are hard and sensitive where they graze against her knees, and her skin is all heat and salt and fire. Breaths fall out of her in ragged bursts, too shallow, too fast, too much, and yet somehow still not enough. She moans again, wrecked and high and breathless, the sounds barely formed and entirely honest, lost in the place where pleasure becomes prayer. And through it all, she's aware only of him; of his weight, his scent, the way his name still echoes through her like a hymn caught in the bones of a church long abandoned to the sea.

and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Need a hundred lifetimes kinda love

It isn’t just pleasure that unlaces him, it’s the way she becomes less woman than tempest. She's all tremor and raw, feral need—a living force breaking loose beneath his hands. The sounds she makes are not learned or pretty; they are instinctive, torn straight from her chest, even as she bites them back, and they pull him forward like she's an undertow he can't escape, not that he wants to. There is no resisting her like this, no keeping himself apart—she draws him in with the inevitability that surf and storms have, the kind that doesn’t ask permission before it rearranges the world. When she finally breaks, when that wild, radiant release tears through her, it takes him with it.

Her plea, barely words than a sound of tension snapping, folds him over her without thought. Every part of her clenches around him, dragging him towards release with a relentless gravity that he groans into. He drives her higher up onto the bed with a series of final, desperate thrusts, a man trying to best weather if only to prolong the moment. There's no hope, he can only surrender to the force of her heat, the feel of it shivering through him with every tremble of her falling apart, a pace he can't outrun. "Fuck Flora," he growls out from the corners of clenched teeth, spine stiffening to the sensation of wrecking himself on her. "I can't—you're too—" breath leaves him in a mess of sound as the pressure splits. His forehead drops to hers, hands fisting in the blankets on either sides of her head, hips jerking once and then holding rigid with release against her.

The aftershocks roll through her, every tremor a delayed echo that sings into him, keeping his breath uneven and grip tightening in helpless response. Slowly, he tips his head up, pressing slow, reverent kisses into her brow as they shudder. There's nothing hungry or demanding now, just the anchor of touch, keeping each other from drifting too far. “Flora,” he exhales, her name nothing but a pulse against her skin, the same that hums quietly beneath his with certainty that she's just as vital. He presses another kiss into her hair, into her temple, grounding and steady, murmuring soft, unintelligible things against her skin. Not words meant to be understood so much as felt, needing to give her the quiet, shaken wonder that is loving her.

Strength wanes as the light and heat subside like a tide retreating, the storm easing back to a known calm. He tilts onto the side of her, crashing into the bed fully and with a contented sigh, reaching to pull the pendant out from under his shoulder as he settles. Skin sticky with residual warmth and the shine of sweat that threatens to grow cold soon, he stays clinging to every inch of her he can, pausing whenever it feels like some part is peeling free. An arm flops over her without ceremony, too foggy with bliss to do anything but hold her as close as he can by whatever means he's able, one foot even curling to try and keep contact with hers. "Let's just live here. Never go back. We'll just sleep and fuck and hide under the covers, forever."

Kaisel

I could say forever, but forever ain't long enough

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

Time has unspooled itself like a ribbon caught in wind, weightless and bright and ungraspable, and the only thing she knows with any certainty is the warm brush of lips whispering across her forehead. The contact draws a soft sigh from her lungs, and the fingers that had been gripping Kai’s arms like lifelines loosen instinctively, reshaping themselves around the back of his neck instead. Her legs melt, falling from where they'd wrapped around him, boneless now, her whole body slipping into the sheets as if gravity has finally remembered it can have her back. Kai stays against her like a blanket for a moment until he crashes beside her, and the moment he does, she moves instinctively to meet him.

She finds all the empty spaces between them and fills them as quickly as breath. Her thigh hitches over his; her arm curls beneath the crook of his; her palm flattens over his chest, fingers curling loosely over the golden charm still nestled there. There’s no urgency to it, no hunger left unsated; just the deep, luxurious ache of being utterly undone and wholly held at the same time. And gods, how she loves him. A surge of it comes screaming up through her like birds startled into flight, this wild burst of love so sharp it almost stings, made more foolish and more profound by the way her heart still hasn’t calmed down from the storm they just survived. She’s aware it’s ridiculous, being so well-fucked that she feels like she loves him more, but she also doesn’t care. If this kind of connection didn’t leave you changed, what was even the point?

Still buried in the tangle of his limbs and her affection, she reaches behind her and gropes blindly for one of the blankets, catching the edge and dragging it up over them with a little victorious sound. With a few gentle tugs and some very uncoordinated wriggling, she manages to burrito them together without disturbing the exquisite laziness of the moment, her cheek settling against his shoulder. "Mmm," she hums, her voice syrupy and low, "if you fuck me like that, I’ll do anything you want." The joke is dreamy and delighted, her laughter warm against his skin as she tilts her chin just enough to look up at him, aqua eyes glassy with affection and still gleaming at the corners with starry aftershocks.

Unable to help herself, she twists her foot just slightly until her toe brushes against the bottom of his, knowing full well how ticklish he can be when caught off-guard. The mischief barely has time to bloom before she tries to cover it, smothering his mouth with a kiss, still a little breathless but soft and smiling, whispering against his lips, "Happy birthday."

Reaching up to steal a pillow for them both to share, she nestles herself even closer before calling out into the cabin with a hoarse little shout: "Spiiiiiice, we’re dead. You’re the captain now. Don’t let us crash into anything while we’re sleeping." The white dragon chirps somewhere distantly in acknowledgement, and with one final sleepy giggle, Flora lets her eyes flutter shut. Wrapped in warmth, wrapped in him, wrapped in everything that just happened, she drifts like the tide she loves, safe and steady in the arms she trusts most.

~FIN

and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3