your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand
Stretching as well, Flora lets her palms press against the wall as she slides her hips from side to side, feeling every articulation of her spine as her muscles groan in response to being used. Slumping back with a sigh, the queen slyly lets her gaze wash over Jack, the moonlight making the bruises on his body look like dark pools that she could drip her fingers into. Though this was only the second time the pair had ever spent the night together, while the first felt adorably domestic (the morning had, anyway), waking up with Jack the morning (night) after a fight felt both incredibly strange and far too comfortable. "Probably best not to. You'll get bed sores." She chuckles, before tilting her head and blinking properly up at the silvery bands of light streaming in through the window.
"Sure." Eyeing Jack as he sits up and thinking he was in desperate need of a haircut, the queen considers her options before settling on wanting something sweet. Good as whiskey might make her feel, she wasn't sure she could handle the burn of it going down her throat, and no doubt whatever Jack had on hand was too good to be watered down.
"And one of your shirts, while you're up."
"Sure." Eyeing Jack as he sits up and thinking he was in desperate need of a haircut, the queen considers her options before settling on wanting something sweet. Good as whiskey might make her feel, she wasn't sure she could handle the burn of it going down her throat, and no doubt whatever Jack had on hand was too good to be watered down.
"And one of your shirts, while you're up."
