i could be the reason you can't sleep at night
"Has it now." Raising a brow, the mischief disappears from Flora's mind, the lavender bubbles popping, leaving only an oily residue are her smile fades. "We're going to kill him...right?" It didn't just feel like revenge. It felt like the pull of something Flora was helpless to resist, a tether linking both she and Jack to Pierce with a red string far bloodier than that of fate.
Wanting nothing more than to shift her hips in order to find herself astride him, Flora reluctantly parts from Jack, sighing softly into the space between them. "That sex swing would come in really handy right about now." She doubts she could get into it without excruciating pain, but the idea of being suspended—touched only by Jack's hands and a few bands, rather than the unyielding press of the flimsy mattress and the groan of her muscles with every movement—gods, that feeling alone might be better than the sex.
The best thing for them both would be to stay in bed for several more days, letting their bodies heal slowly and steadily. But Flora hadn't forced her dad to fly her across the continent to be with Jack because she was concerned with what either of them should be doing. She watches him, her gaze softening, the edges of her resolve sharpening again with determination. If nothing else, Jack would heal better aboard the Ark, surrounded by the familiar sway of his ship. "Well, if you do, you do still have your revivify feather." Flora points out, bouncing her eyebrows; while Jack had died, at least it hadn't cost him his own personal get-out-of-death-free-card.
Wanting nothing more than to shift her hips in order to find herself astride him, Flora reluctantly parts from Jack, sighing softly into the space between them. "That sex swing would come in really handy right about now." She doubts she could get into it without excruciating pain, but the idea of being suspended—touched only by Jack's hands and a few bands, rather than the unyielding press of the flimsy mattress and the groan of her muscles with every movement—gods, that feeling alone might be better than the sex.
The best thing for them both would be to stay in bed for several more days, letting their bodies heal slowly and steadily. But Flora hadn't forced her dad to fly her across the continent to be with Jack because she was concerned with what either of them should be doing. She watches him, her gaze softening, the edges of her resolve sharpening again with determination. If nothing else, Jack would heal better aboard the Ark, surrounded by the familiar sway of his ship. "Well, if you do, you do still have your revivify feather." Flora points out, bouncing her eyebrows; while Jack had died, at least it hadn't cost him his own personal get-out-of-death-free-card.
