Flora
The way he touches her is unlike anyone else; it lacks the boyish pawing and youthful passion from Koa, but nor did it come from a place of knowing the way Jack's did. Instead, it was possessive when it wanted to be, when he wanted it to be, and polite at other times. The dichotomy between gentleman and butcher had fingers of heat reaching up from Flora's belly toward her throat, squeezing with hot fingers so that her breath would catch from nothing more than the glimpse of the butcher in the mirror. All it took was seeing the flash of sweet mahogany turn to burnt caramel, or for the smile on his lips to grow ever so slightly tense as he looked over her body, and she'd have opened a vein for him right then and there if only he'd promise to make her flesh sing before devouring her.
The mark Flora leaves on the butcher's neck is the first of its kind. Most often the queen's souvenirs were left from her nails, and if her lips and teeth had ever brushed so forcefully as to leave a bruise, it had always been unintentional. Whereas the pleasure others might receive from such an act came from the ownership the bruise indicated, for the queen it was in the moment itself and the way she could incite shivers and the pebbling of the butcher's skin with nothing more than her tongue and lips.
Standing on her toes as if willing his hand to sink beneath the hem of her slip to clutch her skin properly, had the Doubletake the ability to dart! she'd certainly have used it to pin herself higher against him where her legs might wrap around his waist. Instead she's left fighting gravity, and even though Asta is fully capable of bending down towards her, Flora stretches as much as she's able, up and into the hand that tangles through her curls. Were he a mindreader like Jack, Asta would have heard the way she considered pressing her neck against him ever so slightly, as if she might be able to extract just one bead of blood from his teeth against her skin. Had he not mentioned his bloodlust she might well have done it, if only for the satisfaction of seeing him flush, but even Flora wasn't so stupid as to go that far.
The butcher would indeed feel Flora's heart beating faster; not quite hammering, but the tempo was certainly one of arousal and youthful impatience as she moaned in shaky harmony with the hum against her skin. Without quite thinking about it, Flora pressed her lips against his as he straightened, her tongue appropriately cautious in his mouth but demanding nonetheless.
The mark Flora leaves on the butcher's neck is the first of its kind. Most often the queen's souvenirs were left from her nails, and if her lips and teeth had ever brushed so forcefully as to leave a bruise, it had always been unintentional. Whereas the pleasure others might receive from such an act came from the ownership the bruise indicated, for the queen it was in the moment itself and the way she could incite shivers and the pebbling of the butcher's skin with nothing more than her tongue and lips.
Standing on her toes as if willing his hand to sink beneath the hem of her slip to clutch her skin properly, had the Doubletake the ability to dart! she'd certainly have used it to pin herself higher against him where her legs might wrap around his waist. Instead she's left fighting gravity, and even though Asta is fully capable of bending down towards her, Flora stretches as much as she's able, up and into the hand that tangles through her curls. Were he a mindreader like Jack, Asta would have heard the way she considered pressing her neck against him ever so slightly, as if she might be able to extract just one bead of blood from his teeth against her skin. Had he not mentioned his bloodlust she might well have done it, if only for the satisfaction of seeing him flush, but even Flora wasn't so stupid as to go that far.
The butcher would indeed feel Flora's heart beating faster; not quite hammering, but the tempo was certainly one of arousal and youthful impatience as she moaned in shaky harmony with the hum against her skin. Without quite thinking about it, Flora pressed her lips against his as he straightened, her tongue appropriately cautious in his mouth but demanding nonetheless.
Fatefully, I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me
Misery, Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep
Misery, Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep
Code stolen from Queen Sky
