you look like my next mistake
Had he paused to speak, Flora would certainly have killed him and told him that he only had himself to blame. With access to the lively slipstream of her thoughts, he had to know how close she was such that to do anything but continue would be to invite the entirety of the Doubletake's wrath.
Would she channel sex-Frey to punish Jack on the basis of a withheld orgasm? I think we all knew she would. Or maybe she'd simply scream out for her mother to come and dig her talons into the captain.
He doesn't stop, though, and as the world raises its voice, Flora rises to the challenge. The queen's moans and shattered sentences were overlayed with images of other where's and when's that she and the captain might fuck. Scenes where they were alone and aiming for secrecy, scenes where multiple hands pawed at the captain as he lay sprawled on rich red fabric with Flora poised atop him, scenes of torn dresses and bloody lips and moans fueled by adrenaline.
Around them the colours of Flora's inner monologue begin to pulse and then flow backward as her thoughts blend together into a bright singularity that seems to swallow everything else before fracturing and exploding outwards. "—fuck, Jack—!" Her thighs tighten around his neck and if he hasn't taken a breath, that's his own damn fault. Pulling at his hair to fix him in place, Flora's back arches as she comes, his name dropping from her lips like a threat, then a curse, then a vow. Only once her body begins to tremble does she loosen her fingers in his hair, her thighs falling open as she sinks back into herself.
Would she channel sex-Frey to punish Jack on the basis of a withheld orgasm? I think we all knew she would. Or maybe she'd simply scream out for her mother to come and dig her talons into the captain.
He doesn't stop, though, and as the world raises its voice, Flora rises to the challenge. The queen's moans and shattered sentences were overlayed with images of other where's and when's that she and the captain might fuck. Scenes where they were alone and aiming for secrecy, scenes where multiple hands pawed at the captain as he lay sprawled on rich red fabric with Flora poised atop him, scenes of torn dresses and bloody lips and moans fueled by adrenaline.
Around them the colours of Flora's inner monologue begin to pulse and then flow backward as her thoughts blend together into a bright singularity that seems to swallow everything else before fracturing and exploding outwards. "—fuck, Jack—!" Her thighs tighten around his neck and if he hasn't taken a breath, that's his own damn fault. Pulling at his hair to fix him in place, Flora's back arches as she comes, his name dropping from her lips like a threat, then a curse, then a vow. Only once her body begins to tremble does she loosen her fingers in his hair, her thighs falling open as she sinks back into herself.
