// Start a tiny riot //
A breathless chuckle escapes him when her leg braces against the opposite wall. “That's a bonus,” he pants, voice low and frayed. The angle is flawless—it lets him reach deeper, move freer, the leverage drawing out a raw sound from deep in his chest as he grinds into her, claiming every inch like it's the last thing he can do right.
That would be enough, but she gives him more. Her legs locked around him are a searing vice, melting into his need. Her hands tangled in his hair and roving across his skin, as insistent as he is in memorizing every detail of them, curls warm and tight against his ribs. Her mouth set against his in a kiss, it tells him everything. Gods, it's almost too much for him.
The tension in her thighs, the broken cadence of her breath, the way she says his name—all of it ignites in him with the kindling of all the match sticks he’s buried for years. He’d tried to be careful, to be good, but now it spills loose with every thrust and each touch. He can’t hold back the climax that seizes him when she cries out, his body jerking into her with a final kick as she whips through him with all the same intensity that delivered him his scar, and it wrecks him just as completely this time too.
His voice fractures around her name as every bit of restraint shatters, “Ffflora—I.” It’s a confession disguised as a groan, that he can't last any more, that after all this, forever does have an end. His jaw flexes, eyes squeezed shut as every bit of him tenses until it feels like even his hair has tightened against his head. Then everything is a shudder attempting to break him apart. It doesn't just empty him the way it normally does, it also makes room for her to fill him, with all of her and everything she is, even the things she could still be.
He doesn’t realize he’s holding her so tightly until his legs tremor. He eases, sliding down with her, collapsing in a heap on the hallway floor. They’re tangled, breathless, pressed skin to skin, and he never wants to move again. He sucks in air, head tilted into her, buried in the nest of her hair, arms still wrapped around her like he's scared to let go. A small, airy laugh bubbles out of him, broken, but full of wonder. He tilts his head back after a moment, nudging his nose against stray strands to find her face and press a kiss to her forehead, the tip of her nose, the corner of her mouth, where he lingers close and warm, still catching his breath.
She's on the air he brings in, all sun-warmed salt and morning—fresh and limitless with a new day. She's the promise of everything, the way dawn gilds the world and pulls it from the darkness, the way the sea sparkles under the reborn light. His lips brush hers with a grin he can't stop, "okay, was any of that even close to the sky-anchor swivel kiss?"
That would be enough, but she gives him more. Her legs locked around him are a searing vice, melting into his need. Her hands tangled in his hair and roving across his skin, as insistent as he is in memorizing every detail of them, curls warm and tight against his ribs. Her mouth set against his in a kiss, it tells him everything. Gods, it's almost too much for him.
The tension in her thighs, the broken cadence of her breath, the way she says his name—all of it ignites in him with the kindling of all the match sticks he’s buried for years. He’d tried to be careful, to be good, but now it spills loose with every thrust and each touch. He can’t hold back the climax that seizes him when she cries out, his body jerking into her with a final kick as she whips through him with all the same intensity that delivered him his scar, and it wrecks him just as completely this time too.
His voice fractures around her name as every bit of restraint shatters, “Ffflora—I.” It’s a confession disguised as a groan, that he can't last any more, that after all this, forever does have an end. His jaw flexes, eyes squeezed shut as every bit of him tenses until it feels like even his hair has tightened against his head. Then everything is a shudder attempting to break him apart. It doesn't just empty him the way it normally does, it also makes room for her to fill him, with all of her and everything she is, even the things she could still be.
He doesn’t realize he’s holding her so tightly until his legs tremor. He eases, sliding down with her, collapsing in a heap on the hallway floor. They’re tangled, breathless, pressed skin to skin, and he never wants to move again. He sucks in air, head tilted into her, buried in the nest of her hair, arms still wrapped around her like he's scared to let go. A small, airy laugh bubbles out of him, broken, but full of wonder. He tilts his head back after a moment, nudging his nose against stray strands to find her face and press a kiss to her forehead, the tip of her nose, the corner of her mouth, where he lingers close and warm, still catching his breath.
She's on the air he brings in, all sun-warmed salt and morning—fresh and limitless with a new day. She's the promise of everything, the way dawn gilds the world and pulls it from the darkness, the way the sea sparkles under the reborn light. His lips brush hers with a grin he can't stop, "okay, was any of that even close to the sky-anchor swivel kiss?"
Kaisel
// Stop being so goddamn quiet //
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
