by what standard?

flora

Flora's ring could have flared with heat at his words for all her mind was aware of. Later perhaps she'd revisit the sensation she'd felt and try to pick that one apart from the rest, noting that at no point had her hands ever burned or cooled with either words or magic, but for the moment the words themselves were enough to have dark delight flooding the Doubletake as she let herself naively extrapolate all the other things she might be the only person worth ...

Flora's lips part as a gasp forces its way out, his hands in her curls both cold and hard in a way that made her want to lash out at him with her nails and kiss him deeply and never let go. "—oh fuck—" The beads of ice on her skin have the muscles of Flora's back trembling such that her knees nearly buckle (but they don't, Feyre, because she doesn't have rickets). "Fuck, jack." It's as much as a command as a plea and a warning, and despite the way it'll likely chip at her perfectly manicured nails, Flora clutches at the stone wall, locking her elbow so that her hips might provide that much from resistance to the thrusts of his own.

Her orgasm takes her wholly by force, dragging Jack's name from her lips in a high-pitch series of whines that grow more airy and breathless as pleasure roars up the backs of her thighs and drowns her so completely that the captain's cock could have turned to ice and she'd hardly have noticed.

I want to be when you fall on me like night
I wanna kill the lights

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!