Nudely Interrupted

we show off our different scarlet letters

The sharp, emphatic fuck no lands like the final wave crashing over the last of her doubt. Flora winces; not because of the conviction in it, but because it only makes her feel more ridiculous for how far she’d spiralled. She knows it was a stupid misunderstanding, but gods, the dominos had been set up so neatly. One wrong push and the whole thing had come toppling down in her head.

When his fingers tug her back, she goes willingly, spinning in the water with a splash of phosphorescent light, the surface blooming beneath her in brilliant blue. It spills up their bodies like stage lighting, catching on his chest and collarbones, glimmering between them as the sea settles. Her feet find the sand, lifting her until the water barely hides her breasts. Her hair clings in curling waves down her back, and when she looks up at him, it’s with a gaze made bluer and brighter by the mirrored sea.

She searches him openly, eyes scanning the angles of his face, reading his sincerity like a horizon line, trying to tell if he’s just saying what she wants to hear. But the ring on her finger stays cool and quiet, no prickle of heat to warn her away.

Her lips part, a small huff of laughter escaping on an exhale as she lets her head tilt for a second, equal parts embarrassed and endeared. "It’s okay, you know. If you ever do want someone else, like, to spice things up or whatever." She lifts her shoulders in a shrug, the water lapping softly against her skin. "I hadn’t even thought about the race," she admits, glancing down. "Just...you’d joked about someone holding a light while, and then suddenly Melita was there and you said you wanted her here, and then she was laying down and you were reaching out for her, and..." Her brows inch upward with renewed confusion, eyes flicking back up to his.

And then she blinks, a sudden ripple of worry spreading across her expression. "Wait—do you think she’s okay?" Flora's voice is softer now, concern replacing the last of her tension as she curls her hand a little tighter around his. "Should we channel her again to check on her? Once we’re on shore?"

Used to keep it cool, used to be a fool

He's caught off guard sometimes, by the stunning way a simple glance at her is enough to hang everything up in his chest. His breath hitches as if he's forgotten how to breathe. His pulse quickens into something too scattered to count, humming into something loud behind his ears. His throat runs dry, and his tongue feels suddenly too thick, or maybe that's the drift of his heart as it sails up higher, held aloft by her.

It happens when she turns back, and he doesn't expect it to hit then. Maybe it's spurred on by the ridiculous thoughts that he'd need Mel to deliver something to improve this, or the quick idea of asking her for forever, even if it's not the way he'd like to do it.

No, none of those thoughts hit him until later. It's just, simply, her. Dressed in seawrought light, dappled in saltwater, and wreathed in damp gold, she shifts like a small sun trying to break through this terrible night. She moves through shadow and surf with a practiced ease, perfectly content to thrive against everything that'd contain her. She's incredible.

He inhales suddenly as she rolls across the distance back towards his chest. Her gaze blooms like seaglass in the dawn, brilliant and soft and full of color that floods the spaces nearby in its hue. His free hand grabs hold of the side of her face, fingers slipping beneath her ear and into her soaked curls, thumb sweeping along her jaw. He'd kiss her, and set everything building inside of him into it like a mark made for her, but before he has the chance, she drops the idea that he needs something spicier than her. She shrugs, even.

His jaw can't help but pop open for a moment, a disbelieving chuckle following suit. "I like spicy," he agrees, "but mostly with my food. With my relationships, I like you." Were it said differently, or not brought on by his words and actions, he might have wondered if she's the one in need of some spice, but as it stands, he's adamant that he does not need any outside ingredients.

"I reached for her because I thought she was going to fall into the sea and drown," he says pointedly, 'brows lifting with the punctuation of the matter, and now perhaps he needs to be worried that she thinks six seconds is all he needs. Her question mirrors the one that he had too, which selfishly took a backseat when everything started to unravel in the water. "That's not a bad idea," he murmurs with agreement. "I can still channel," he offers, unsure of her number of summoning coupons left in stock.

Kaisel

All about the bounce in my step

we show off our different scarlet letters

Flora gazes up at him through the glow of the water, each ripple of bioluminescent blue lighting his features like the sea itself is conspiring to make him look devastatingly handsome. And gods, it’s working. The angles of his face are carved in salt and blue starlight, his expression open in a way that unravels something low in her belly, and when his hand comes up to cup her cheek, she leans into it without hesitation. Her own fingers rise to cover his, slipping into the spaces between, warm and wet and adoring.

His words—I like you—draw a breathless chuckle from her throat, the sound a little too shy to be smug, a little too pleased to be casual. Heat flushes across her cheeks, and she shrugs, lips curling as her gaze drops for a second. "You say that now, when everything’s still new." The words come soft, not accusatory. There’s no doubt in her tone, only caution gilded with hope because she knows what it's like to not be enough. But if it ever changes..." Her voice drifts softer then, the words trembling on the edge of a breath. She lifts her gaze, searching his face like she’s memorizing every flicker of light that plays across it, every drop of water gliding down his jaw. The hand over his tightens, her thumb brushing along the ridge of his knuckles, the gesture small but desperate, as if she could anchor the moment there between their palms. "You don’t have to keep it secret, okay?" she murmurs, lashes lowering for half a heartbeat before her eyes meet his again, clear and aching. "I’d rather find ways to keep you happy than ever risk losing you."

There’s a tremor beneath her tone; not from fear, exactly, but something rawer, more instinctive. Beneath the surface calm, there’s a flicker of feral need, the kind that drives deeper than lust or laughter or even love. It’s the urge to keep, to protect what she’s found in him, to hold it so close that nothing—not time, not doubt, not anyone else—can take it away. The heat that had simmered in her before is replaced by something quieter but far more dangerous, a devotion that presses itself into every heartbeat. Her fingers squeeze his once more, and she breathes out shakily, the confession sitting between them like a vow: she’d give anything—body, heart, soul—to keep him, to keep this, forever.

At his explanation about Mel, she wrinkles her nose in understanding, blinking slowly, still wondering how Melita had been able to walk on water in the first place, and why she'd laid down on top of the ocean if Kaisel had channelled her to help him win a race.

Taking a step back, Flora still holds tightly to his hand, reluctant to let go. The crashing urgency that had gripped her earlier—the mad dash toward the shore, the imagined moment where he’d catch her in the shallows from behind, and they’d fall together into some steamy, surf-drenched fantasy onto their knees, giving anyone watching a proper show—has settled into something steadier now. He’s not pulling her off her feet anymore, but he’s grounding her instead, and that’s its own kind of sweep.

She turns her head, glancing up the beach until she spots the dark slouch of his backpack. Tilting her head in its direction, she nudges his arm with hers. "I think your bag’s up there. If you want to get dressed first..." If not for Kaisel's sake, Flora could almost guarantee being pulled away from wherever Mel had been a second time just to be faced with Kaisel's concern as well as his cock was probably not high on the Honeybee's list of LongNight activities.

Used to keep it cool, used to be a fool

It requires tremendous effort not to interrupt her with objections for each thing she says. The only thing that holds his tongue is the look of her as she says them. Not fragile, but, not the strength he's accustomed to either. There's something worn there, like a corner that's lost its edge after being thumbed over again and again. Could be thin from all the spinning of her own thoughts, or could be the steps of others who found it alright to put a heel across this part of her.

So instead, he just listens, swallowing back all the refusal to make room for this whispered worry she tries to pawn off as steadfast approval for what she deems almost inevitable. Her hand tightens against him, holding, and his fingers curl heavier into her hair. What she ends with though, that breaks a smile back in, more fond than he means given what she just said but he can't keep it at bay once it's started. "Ditto," he leans in and murmurs, nose brushing hers before the heel of his hand tugs her the rest of the way into a kiss. One that's present with what they have now, warm and salty and real with affection that keeps unfolding into something deeper than he knows how to name.

Some things only time could fully deliver, and for all the promises he'd like to whisper into her hair about the ways she'd be his, now and always, he'd make a point to do it every day instead of a hundred right now. Eventually, he might layer enough belief back into the worn edge, and she'd find the strength for it to take on a point again, sharp enough to handle any heel but never needing to again. Because you don't become strong just to use strength. You become strong to prove to yourself you can, to know you're capable, should you need it. Gods, he wanted to convince her she was enough, even though in so doing she'd never have to wonder about it again.

When he parts from her, it's only to pull her back enough to look at her fully again, smile faint in the electric light that twists around their bodies still. His hand relents from her cheek so they can balance as they wade back to shore, though her keeps her one hand in his still, not sure he wants to let go any time soon. "I have towels for us," he suggests, tugging her to follow towards the shape of his bag. "And a change of clothes for us both. We could always try and find yours once we're dressed." And it is, with a resigned fate, that he gives up to carrying the ache in his balls as he does the annoyingly correct thing of checking on his friend and getting dressed instead of pursuading Flora to linger naked with him for several nights more.

Kaisel

All about the bounce in my step

we show off our different scarlet letters

His ditto lands like sunlight in the dark, chasing shadows from places she hadn’t even known she was bracing against. It slips beneath her ribs and unfurls there, soft and certain and strong enough to hold her whole. The smile that blooms across her face is bright and unguarded, beaming up at him with all the warmth the sky seems to have forgotten how to give tonight.

She’d expected deflection. Maybe reassurance, if he was feeling generous. But this—this effortless echo of what she'd said before to him—it’s more than she'd hoped for and more than anyone had ever given her; real in a way that sinks deep into her chest and cracks something open.

As he leans in, Flora rises to meet him, the kiss folding around them like surf against shore, dissolving the world beyond the press of their mouths. Her fingers remain tight in his, grounding her even as the rest of her melts into him. A little sound escapes—half sigh, half whimper—as she presses close, certain in every nerve that it’s him, them, now and always.

When they part, she’s flushed and radiant, gazing up at him like he’s something she still can’t believe is real. "You're so thoughtful," she murmurs teasingly as he mentions the towels, but there’s more affection than sarcasm in it, her lashes fluttering in a wink that very nearly turns dangerous. The mental image of the towels not being used for drying off has her momentarily side-eyeing the sand. But she reins it in and lets him lead her back toward the bag, fingers still laced in his as if afraid of letting go too soon. When he hands her the towel, she wraps it around herself with a little sigh, the kind reserved for missed opportunities and inconvenient conscience.

"I hope she’s okay," she says after a moment, more seriously now, glancing back toward the darkened waves. Her hand lifts, dragging through her damp curls before tipping toward him. "If she’s not...I’ll channel Ronin."

Used to keep it cool, used to be a fool

Flora might change her mind about his thoughtfulness once she peeks into the outfit mish mash he stuffed inside for her. He just grins back in response though, immaturely wondering if his thoughtfulness might get him out of her clothes again sometime sooner than later.

Leaving the waves behind them, he parts with her hand at last to thoroughly dig through his bag. Maybe there's a way to organize a bottomless container, but he certainly does not know it. Should deep, no point peering in, his finger brush the soft fibers of the towels and he releases a triumphant "Ah ha!" before yanking them free. Passing Flora hers, he uses his to ruffle through his soaked hair, patting down the parts of him he doesn't want to fight fabric to cover.

Hanging it around the back of his neck, he returns to his fumbling around in the bag. He grabs hold of a white-knit dress-thing and holds it out for her. It's meant to cover up a bikini, not exactly covering much with all its holes otherwise. He looks at it, shrugging. "I think I have something else, it was dark when I took that off the rack." She has her towel on for now, but he hasn't found his clothes yet either. There's some snacks, gummy worms, of course, and a frog-shaped stress ball that he chucks behind his shoulder because he's tired of it continually being in the way. A feather boa sneaks out before he shoves it back in, finally producing a long-sleeve shirt for her and just, panties.

Slipping on his navy board shorts with the little shark pattern on them, he feels that suffices, not wanting to delay further. "Alright, fingers crossed we don't have to call in the big guns." He grimaces, tilting his head. "Hey Mel, uh we're kinda worried, can you show up and let us know you're gucci girl?" He channels the Honeybee once more, worry spreading the call into a thin sound.

---

2/2 Deepfrost 319 channel

Kaisel

All about the bounce in my step

I've done nothing wrong
Except for all the atrocities

No sooner had Melita been channeled, taken a nap on top of the sea, returned to the festivities soaked through -

Then she was back again, on this portion of land, dazed and confused.

“Hey uh-,” she appeared, then glanced back and forth between Flora and Kaisel, mystified, confused, bewildered, and only mildly shuddering from the wet clothing. Which she planned on fixing. Soon. “I’m good, sorry, I tried to use my wild magic and,” well, she shrugged, because the results had been a subsequent doze that didn’t actually result in much rest, what with the jostling, open sea, and all that jazz. Brows furrowed and wanting nothing but to be closer to some bonfire in the distance, she still tried to take them both in – now concerned since she’d been channeled twice. “Are you guys okay? Who won?”

the honeybee

Besides that
I'm innocent

we show off our different scarlet letters

Flora teases her curls back into place with damp fingers, combing through the worst of the tangles as Kai begins his archaeological dig through the bag. She’s still smoothing sea salt from her brows when the towel lands in her hands, and she murmurs a grateful "thank you" that’s swallowed half by the crash of the waves. Draping it loosely around herself she watches Kaisel, the way his body moves lit in full from two fronts; the warm, flickering amber of bonfire flames up on the beach and the cool, ethereal glow of bioluminescence lapping against the shore.

Saltwater still kisses the grooves of his skin in soft reflections, clinging to his ribs and catching in the fine hair on his forearms. The firelight throws a golden sheen across his shoulders and abs, sharpening each line and curve like it’s been carved from something hard and rare. And gods, she’s trying not to, but the way the towel settles around his neck only frames the rest of him in silhouette. Her gaze drifts lower, making a low humming sound of appreciation behind her teeth before he slips on his shark-pattern board shorts.

With a grin that’s nothing short of feral, she lets her own towel drop and tugs on the white knit coverup. It clings damply to her hips and chest, and every one of the diamond-shaped stitches gapes to reveal skin and sin in equal measure. The red underwear is a flare beneath it, unmissable even in the dimness, and she pretends not to notice the way her nipples peek through as she stretches her arms above her head.

As Mel arrives, wet and slightly dazed, but very much vertical, a breath of relief escapes Flora before she can stop it, followed by a shake of her head. "We were worried you were unconscious," she blurts out quickly, knowing that they only had a few seconds. But her tone softens into a fond eye-roll, affectionate and exasperated all at once. "Kai won, I think," she adds, shifting her weight as she tilts her chin toward him, lips twitching into a lopsided smirk.

Used to keep it cool, used to be a fool

She's constantly distracting. He's trying to focus on the channel, glancing her way mid word, finally catching sight of the attire he'd passed off to her in a rush to get them both clothed enough to summon Mel here to begin with (he'd not be trusting towels to not have the comedic timing of dropping, thank you).

What does drop is his mouth, slackened at the firelit display of light and shadow that rolls over her skin in a woven pattern from the holes of her coverup. His gaze rolls over her in open, and stunned, appreciation. He'd gwk longer, and plans to, but his call is answered and he only has a moment to catch the bright splash of red bordering her thighs, and higher up, a peek of her nipple saying hello. How impolite, he wanted to say hi back, but he he's forced to turn his attention away as Mel arrives.

She has the worst timing. Nevermind that she's only come when, because, he called.

Something in him eases at the sight of her though, inconvenient as it is, because she appears rather unharmed. Just, damp, and sleepy? "So your magic did that to you?" he tries to confirm, startled yet again by the display of her abilities seeming to be so harmful, but she's already vanishing, Flora's recounting of his victory the last thing they really manage to convey. As she departs, he glances back to her, head tilting in question. "I won, huh?" He snorts, clearly finding the victory hollow. "Remind me to lose next time." There's several reasons why.

Sighing with the relief of it all, a sudden jumble of feelings in a short time, he closes the distance and slides an arm around her waist. He does greet her chest properly this time, an "oh, hello," slipping free with a rogue's grin as his gaze tilts from her face to the netting of her breasts. His other hand rolls lightly across before he drags her into a stride down the beach, backpack slung over his other shoulder. "You should definitely wear this around the house, like all the time." And away they wander, hunting down the rest of her clothes, or what they can find before calling it quits, hands unable to leave her be for long.

[FIN]

Kaisel

All about the bounce in my step