marked me like a bloodstain
Reaching for the cigarette, her fingers only trembling slightly, the queen places it between her lips and inhales deeply. The woodsy burn of it makes her want to drink, a lot, to find something that would burn even brighter. Maybe something that could burn her up completely.
Flinching away from his hand slightly before she realizes what he's doing, Flora too glances down. The skin was pristine and unmarked, which likely meant that any other trace Asta had left on her was gone too. The physical ones, at least. Not quite able to hold Jack's gaze the way she normally might have, the queen shrugs stiffly. "I probably wouldn't like lots of your thoughts, either." She says distantly, not quite sure what to make of his comment. Was it concern or condescension?
Crossing one of her legs over the other to reveal an unmarked thigh, the queen took another drag before tilting her head back and blowing the smoke into the cloudless sky. Glancing at Jack again, this time her gaze was harder, darker. She thought briefly of sliding into his lap and fucking him on the bench, or of asking him to go home with her, letting him make love to her in her feather-soft bed and making him stay with her until morning. Nothing seemed like the right shape for the expanding cracks that she felt splitting through her mind because of how fucking one-sided it all was. If she didn't know what she wanted, Jack couldn't siphon away his portion of her pleasure and so what was the point?
Maybe what Flora wanted wasn't to enjoy it. Maybe she wanted someone to touch her in all the wrong ways, to not notice when she cried as she came, and to fall blissfully asleep while she lay there miserable. Miserable, but not alone.
Something neither Asta nor Jack could provide, evidently.
She could go pick someone up at the Tavern on her way home, gods knew there would still be more than a handful who weren't too far into their cups and gods knew she had to turn down their advances often enough.
"Night Jack." The queen mumbles, dropping the cigarette onto the ground and grinding it out with her bare foot before rising.
Flinching away from his hand slightly before she realizes what he's doing, Flora too glances down. The skin was pristine and unmarked, which likely meant that any other trace Asta had left on her was gone too. The physical ones, at least. Not quite able to hold Jack's gaze the way she normally might have, the queen shrugs stiffly. "I probably wouldn't like lots of your thoughts, either." She says distantly, not quite sure what to make of his comment. Was it concern or condescension?
Crossing one of her legs over the other to reveal an unmarked thigh, the queen took another drag before tilting her head back and blowing the smoke into the cloudless sky. Glancing at Jack again, this time her gaze was harder, darker. She thought briefly of sliding into his lap and fucking him on the bench, or of asking him to go home with her, letting him make love to her in her feather-soft bed and making him stay with her until morning. Nothing seemed like the right shape for the expanding cracks that she felt splitting through her mind because of how fucking one-sided it all was. If she didn't know what she wanted, Jack couldn't siphon away his portion of her pleasure and so what was the point?
Maybe what Flora wanted wasn't to enjoy it. Maybe she wanted someone to touch her in all the wrong ways, to not notice when she cried as she came, and to fall blissfully asleep while she lay there miserable. Miserable, but not alone.
Something neither Asta nor Jack could provide, evidently.
She could go pick someone up at the Tavern on her way home, gods knew there would still be more than a handful who weren't too far into their cups and gods knew she had to turn down their advances often enough.
"Night Jack." The queen mumbles, dropping the cigarette onto the ground and grinding it out with her bare foot before rising.
