your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand
Oh, but she did. Five years she'd known Jack now, and while she'd changed plenty during that time, Jack hadn't. Flora had gone from a reckless sweet 16, trotting after him in the hopes that he'd give her the time of day, sucking in her stomach and wearing too much makeup thinking it would catch his eye (and it had, after a time), to Torchline's queen (with his help, of course). Though she didn't posture and pose for him quite the way she once had, the Doubletake had never stopped trying to impress the captain, had never stopped wanting him; her affections had merely grown and matured as she had.
"I'll do it—" She whispers softly; the angle was better for her, after all. With her thoughts, she directed his hands against her hips and the swell of her ass, wanting him to touch her the way he normally did but knowing she was too bruised for it. Slipping her hand from his hair between her legs, the press of her finger against her clit has her inhaling sharply as she focuses on the bright white pulse of pleasure. It fills her mind, and with every slow and deep roll of her hips, she can feel the pressure inside of herself expanding, pushing against the outer edges of her consciousness and threatening to break through. With every thrust the knots come undone, the curve of the o and the loop of the l written in girlish cursive.
"—jack—" Flora moans? pleads? begs? as the feeling wells up, expanding brighter than the sun, stretching farther than the four winds, pulling her deeper than the strongest of ocean tides. She did love him, even though it was going to ruin her, even though it was going to tear her apart at the seams until there was nothing left to recognize her by, she did. Lost in a sudden whirlwind of red and gold, Flora's orgasm roars in tandem, blotting out the final two letters even as the knots are stripped away. Shaking as her thoughts are utterly eclipsed by the bright relief of her orgasm, the queen trembles astride the captain, her body pitching forward as she crumples against his chest.
"I'll do it—" She whispers softly; the angle was better for her, after all. With her thoughts, she directed his hands against her hips and the swell of her ass, wanting him to touch her the way he normally did but knowing she was too bruised for it. Slipping her hand from his hair between her legs, the press of her finger against her clit has her inhaling sharply as she focuses on the bright white pulse of pleasure. It fills her mind, and with every slow and deep roll of her hips, she can feel the pressure inside of herself expanding, pushing against the outer edges of her consciousness and threatening to break through. With every thrust the knots come undone, the curve of the o and the loop of the l written in girlish cursive.
"—jack—" Flora moans? pleads? begs? as the feeling wells up, expanding brighter than the sun, stretching farther than the four winds, pulling her deeper than the strongest of ocean tides. She did love him, even though it was going to ruin her, even though it was going to tear her apart at the seams until there was nothing left to recognize her by, she did. Lost in a sudden whirlwind of red and gold, Flora's orgasm roars in tandem, blotting out the final two letters even as the knots are stripped away. Shaking as her thoughts are utterly eclipsed by the bright relief of her orgasm, the queen trembles astride the captain, her body pitching forward as she crumples against his chest.
