flora
Flora doesn’t even register the moment she moves, only that she’s suddenly there, draped across him as if her body remembered the map before her mind could protest. He fits beneath her in the way storms fit the sea, inevitable, and when his lips find hers again, she meets them without thought, fingers curling tighter into his hair as though pinning him to the earth might keep her from slipping entirely into him, or away from him. Her heartbeat surges in her ears, her cheeks blazing, and still she leans into the kiss as though it’s both lifeline and undoing.
When he pulls back, the sudden absence of him leaves a coldness crawling through all the places where his hands aren’t, a reminder she hadn’t meant to give herself. Breath stumbles out of her in a shaky sigh as she stares down at him, heart hammering so loud she’s surprised he can’t hear it too. She’d thought this—just fucking her—was exactly what he wanted, the clean transaction of heat without weight, chaos without consequence or strings. And maybe it had been easier for her to believe it, because the alternative would mean acknowledging just how dangerous this was for her, for them both.
Her voice comes softer than she intends, raw in its honesty, her gaze locked on the fury and stormlight in his. "It’s not that simple," she whispers, the words trembling out like a confession. Surely even Jack, for all his fuck-it bravado and sharp-edged grins, had to know it was never going to be that simple. That it couldn't be?
When he pulls back, the sudden absence of him leaves a coldness crawling through all the places where his hands aren’t, a reminder she hadn’t meant to give herself. Breath stumbles out of her in a shaky sigh as she stares down at him, heart hammering so loud she’s surprised he can’t hear it too. She’d thought this—just fucking her—was exactly what he wanted, the clean transaction of heat without weight, chaos without consequence or strings. And maybe it had been easier for her to believe it, because the alternative would mean acknowledging just how dangerous this was for her, for them both.
Her voice comes softer than she intends, raw in its honesty, her gaze locked on the fury and stormlight in his. "It’s not that simple," she whispers, the words trembling out like a confession. Surely even Jack, for all his fuck-it bravado and sharp-edged grins, had to know it was never going to be that simple. That it couldn't be?
you're under the feeling like teenagers in cars
it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours
it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours
