meet me in the middle

we write out the ends on our palms, then forget to read

Flora let herself sink into the heat of the moment, the featherlight trail of Danta’s fingers along her side sending a shiver across her skin and a plume of heat flickering up through her core. As his hands brushed against the lace of her bra, a sharp thrill coursed through her; the queen pressing herself into the Maverick's wandering touch with a soft sigh.

When his lips trailed lower, Flora’s breath caught, her body leaning instinctively into him as her fingers curled into his blonde hair. The soft strands twisted beneath her grip, and she let her hand settle there, almost possessively, as his mouth skimmed across her golden skin. Tightening her fingers the queen glanced down at him, a brow raised as if she meant to suggest he do something else while he was on his knees, before grinning as she stepped out of both her pants and underwear, the harness still tangled around her hips.

"I doubt anyone can fuck you like he does," she whispered, cheeks now a dark pink, her aqua eyes drifting over a few telltale marks on his shoulders and neck before they flicked back to his face. "But I'm more than happy for you to tell me the sorts of things he does for inspiration."