Flora
The silence is immediate and infinite. A vast, aching nothing that stretches out like a shipwrecked pause between the fall of her towel and the fall of his expression. And it cuts—clean and fast and merciless—as Kaisel's smile fades. For a single, breathless moment, she wants to twist the ring on her finger and vanish. To fold in on herself like damp paper, to shrink back and pull the towel tighter and pretend she hadn’t said anything at all. That she hadn’t shown him anything. She feels cold all of a sudden, so abruptly naked in a way that has nothing to do with fabric. The bruises bloom heavier now, as if they’re answering his silence with their own awful chorus, and the sharp swell of frost that curls beneath her ribs tells her she’s made a mistake.
He’s changing his mind.
She can see it—feels it in the feathered tension of his jaw, the tightening in his eyes, the way something ripples beneath his skin like a man realizing too late that he’s in over his head. That all those easy words about not minding the mess, not being scared of the wreckage...maybe they weren’t lies, but they were only true when he didn’t have to stare it in the face. When he didn't have to see firsthand the intimacy wrought from another man across her skin.
Flora's grip on the towel edges tighter. Her heart stutters once, then begins to fall.
And then he moves. Surges, really, crashing forward like a wave made entirely of want and something just short of fury, and her breath catches as the force of him fills the space between them. Her chin tips up on instinct, aqua eyes wide, tracking the copper flash of his gaze, the hard set of his jaw—and then his mouth is on hers, and the noise that leaves her is half-mewl, half-fractured relief.
It isn’t sweet, this kiss. It isn’t careful. There’s nothing reverent in the way he slants his mouth over hers, in the fist that curls into her hair or the way he walks her backwards without pause until the shower wall halts their momentum. The towel drops from her hand, forgotten, as her fingers flutter up to catch at his wrist—more anchor than protest—as her back meets tile with a thud that sends a flare of heat skyward through her body.
She doesn’t realise he’s reaching for the controls until the water bursts over them. Freezing, because of course it is, having just left the tap. She gasps against his mouth, the shock of it searing against her skin like sea spray in Deepfrost, adrenaline blooming bright and instant in her chest. But she doesn’t pull away; she’s still terrified this might all evaporate if she stops moving, if she gives him too much time to think. So instead she chases it—chases him—curling her arms around his neck, sweeping her hands into his hair as she rises onto her toes and bows her back to match his lean. Her soaked underwear clings with every breath, every shift of friction between them, but it doesn’t matter. She only feels the line of his belt pressing against her lower belly, an iron-hot contrast to the cold water sliding down her spine, a jarring reminder of what still separates them, even as their mouths refuse to let go.
Her body curves into his like muscle memory, like they’ve done this a hundred times in dreams, and every sound she makes now—every sigh, every whimper, every need-struck gasp—is soaked through with the unsteady, aching relief of being chosen still despite the obvious damage.
He’s changing his mind.
She can see it—feels it in the feathered tension of his jaw, the tightening in his eyes, the way something ripples beneath his skin like a man realizing too late that he’s in over his head. That all those easy words about not minding the mess, not being scared of the wreckage...maybe they weren’t lies, but they were only true when he didn’t have to stare it in the face. When he didn't have to see firsthand the intimacy wrought from another man across her skin.
Flora's grip on the towel edges tighter. Her heart stutters once, then begins to fall.
And then he moves. Surges, really, crashing forward like a wave made entirely of want and something just short of fury, and her breath catches as the force of him fills the space between them. Her chin tips up on instinct, aqua eyes wide, tracking the copper flash of his gaze, the hard set of his jaw—and then his mouth is on hers, and the noise that leaves her is half-mewl, half-fractured relief.
It isn’t sweet, this kiss. It isn’t careful. There’s nothing reverent in the way he slants his mouth over hers, in the fist that curls into her hair or the way he walks her backwards without pause until the shower wall halts their momentum. The towel drops from her hand, forgotten, as her fingers flutter up to catch at his wrist—more anchor than protest—as her back meets tile with a thud that sends a flare of heat skyward through her body.
She doesn’t realise he’s reaching for the controls until the water bursts over them. Freezing, because of course it is, having just left the tap. She gasps against his mouth, the shock of it searing against her skin like sea spray in Deepfrost, adrenaline blooming bright and instant in her chest. But she doesn’t pull away; she’s still terrified this might all evaporate if she stops moving, if she gives him too much time to think. So instead she chases it—chases him—curling her arms around his neck, sweeping her hands into his hair as she rises onto her toes and bows her back to match his lean. Her soaked underwear clings with every breath, every shift of friction between them, but it doesn’t matter. She only feels the line of his belt pressing against her lower belly, an iron-hot contrast to the cold water sliding down her spine, a jarring reminder of what still separates them, even as their mouths refuse to let go.
Her body curves into his like muscle memory, like they’ve done this a hundred times in dreams, and every sound she makes now—every sigh, every whimper, every need-struck gasp—is soaked through with the unsteady, aching relief of being chosen still despite the obvious damage.
I hope you're sweating the bigger stuff,
finding some peace in an honest love
Hope you stop when you've had enough & throw the towel in
finding some peace in an honest love
Hope you stop when you've had enough & throw the towel in
Code stolen from Queen Sky
