we show off our different scarlet letters
The way his arms loosen only has her fingers that much more greedy as she feels him slip away from her; had he not reached for her face just then, Flora might have forced her shoulder against his lips to try and ignite his passions as she had before. Only then she finds that he's holding her back instead of just holding her, his tail restricting her arm and his strong hands against her face.
Too stunned, really, to even properly kiss him back as he brushes his lips against her own, Flora's mouth opens to say something, but nothing comes out. As he presses his forehead against hers, the tears she'd been holding back succumb to gravity and drip down her cheeks and onto the tip of her nose, shimmering like delicate pink pearls. Though some faraway part of Flora knows that the butcher is trying to be reassuring, it all sounds so transactional, and while that might certainly have been the case for him, it's the wrong sort of used than the way she likes it to be.
"I can go faster than you can." Flora mumbles, heat edging her words if only to remind him that for all his sharp teeth and no Flora's, and, maybe next time, Flora, or, get off of me, Flora that she was the one who possessed real power.
For all the good it fucking did.
Drawing back from him as he pulled away from her, Flora drew her knees toward her chest, her ankles crossing. Not quite able to bring herself to look at him now that the flush of her cheeks was an ugly red and tears had marred the palette of passion he'd painted all across her cheeks, Flora simply swallowed thickly and tried to ignore the sob that built in the back of her throat.
Too stunned, really, to even properly kiss him back as he brushes his lips against her own, Flora's mouth opens to say something, but nothing comes out. As he presses his forehead against hers, the tears she'd been holding back succumb to gravity and drip down her cheeks and onto the tip of her nose, shimmering like delicate pink pearls. Though some faraway part of Flora knows that the butcher is trying to be reassuring, it all sounds so transactional, and while that might certainly have been the case for him, it's the wrong sort of used than the way she likes it to be.
"I can go faster than you can." Flora mumbles, heat edging her words if only to remind him that for all his sharp teeth and no Flora's, and, maybe next time, Flora, or, get off of me, Flora that she was the one who possessed real power.
For all the good it fucking did.
Drawing back from him as he pulled away from her, Flora drew her knees toward her chest, her ankles crossing. Not quite able to bring herself to look at him now that the flush of her cheeks was an ugly red and tears had marred the palette of passion he'd painted all across her cheeks, Flora simply swallowed thickly and tried to ignore the sob that built in the back of her throat.
