candlewax & polaroids on the hardwood floor
Flora watches the water stream off his face with an unrepentant grin, delight curling through her like a ribbon on the wind. "Kaisel Shark Slayer," she repeats, the words rolling in her mouth like candy. "Sounds very Torchline." She taps her chin thoughtfully, curls slicked to her temples by salt and spray. Her laughter bubbles up again, bright and weightless as the sunburnt waves around them, but something gentler threads beneath it—something quieter, blooming under her ribs as she watches the way he preens for her, the way he soaks up her praise like cracked earth drinking rain.
And gods, he deserves it. He deserves strawberries stacked into mountains and pancakes dripping syrup and as much love and loyalty as she can hurl at him without capsizing the both of them.
When he extends his pinky, the grin slides from her mouth into something softer, something that feels too big for the fragile air between them. Flora’s fingers tighten around Kaisel’s pinky, and with a mischievous gleam flashing in her sea-glass eyes, she tugs herself closer. The water parts easily between them, buoyant and warm, and in a few heartbeats, she’s sliding against his back, her limbs twining lazily around him like seaweed caught on driftwood. Her knees hook around his hips, her arms loop around his shoulders, and she drapes herself there without apology, chin brushing his salt-damp shoulder as she leans in, curls dripping water down the curve of his neck.
"If we do find a hot siren out here," Flora murmurs against his skin, voice low and wicked-soft, "you should be the one eating her." The words curl like smoke between them, teasing and suggestive, sweetened by the laughter she barely holds back.
And gods, he deserves it. He deserves strawberries stacked into mountains and pancakes dripping syrup and as much love and loyalty as she can hurl at him without capsizing the both of them.
When he extends his pinky, the grin slides from her mouth into something softer, something that feels too big for the fragile air between them. Flora’s fingers tighten around Kaisel’s pinky, and with a mischievous gleam flashing in her sea-glass eyes, she tugs herself closer. The water parts easily between them, buoyant and warm, and in a few heartbeats, she’s sliding against his back, her limbs twining lazily around him like seaweed caught on driftwood. Her knees hook around his hips, her arms loop around his shoulders, and she drapes herself there without apology, chin brushing his salt-damp shoulder as she leans in, curls dripping water down the curve of his neck.
"If we do find a hot siren out here," Flora murmurs against his skin, voice low and wicked-soft, "you should be the one eating her." The words curl like smoke between them, teasing and suggestive, sweetened by the laughter she barely holds back.
