Flora
Her laugh spills out light and breathless, trembling with aftershock and arousal both, a flutter of sound that feels like it could break apart at any second. "Next time," she pants, voice husky as her fingers brush damp curls from her cheek, "you can try it my way."
His sigh ghosts against her, hot and rough and edged with hunger, and it lights something raw inside her. She feels it flare behind her ribs, down her spine, pooling molten at the base of her belly. For one wild moment she considers calling on Frey, just a flick of her will and the last obstacle of his clothing would be gone—but then he’s fumbling, frantic and cursing, and there’s something delicious in letting it be this, in feeling him this desperate and undone just to get to her. So she lifts up onto her knees, easing the way, hands cradling his cheeks as her mouth hovers near his ear.
"I want you," she whispers, and this time there’s no ache beneath it. No plea for permanence, no desperate wish for something soft. Just need. Just now. She wants him to fall apart around her name, to forget any version of her that wasn’t carved into his hips, to feel her as she’d felt him; shattered and slick with it.
The moment his cock springs free, thick and flushed, Flora’s hips are already sinking. The stretch burns perfect, her whole body tightening as she guides him into her, inch by inch, swallowing him with a moan that tangles in her throat. Gods, he’s deep—so deep—and with the clinging heat of water and the wet of her, he slides in like her body was made for this. For him.
The fabric still binding his legs forces her to take control, and gods does she love it. With her thighs trembling, she presses herself down again, her muscles clenching around him as he thrusts up into her. The sound she makes is somewhere between a whimper and a curse, one arm coiling tight around his shoulder while her other hand finds his and places it over her breast, letting him feel every flutter of her racing heart, every shift of her breath as it hiccups in time with her movements.
Slow at first, Flora draws herself up only to sink again, deeper, harder, again and again until the wet slap of their bodies is lost in steam and sighs. Her head tips forward, golden curls spilling water, eyes half-lidded but locked on him. She braces herself against him, her lips parted as she pants, her whole body caught in the rhythm of pleasure and power, and the adoration flooding her chest is almost too much to bear. "Fuck," she gasps, breath snagging, hips grinding down harder. "You feel so—" But the words dissolve into another moan, her nails curling into his shoulder as her rhythm stutters with need.
His sigh ghosts against her, hot and rough and edged with hunger, and it lights something raw inside her. She feels it flare behind her ribs, down her spine, pooling molten at the base of her belly. For one wild moment she considers calling on Frey, just a flick of her will and the last obstacle of his clothing would be gone—but then he’s fumbling, frantic and cursing, and there’s something delicious in letting it be this, in feeling him this desperate and undone just to get to her. So she lifts up onto her knees, easing the way, hands cradling his cheeks as her mouth hovers near his ear.
"I want you," she whispers, and this time there’s no ache beneath it. No plea for permanence, no desperate wish for something soft. Just need. Just now. She wants him to fall apart around her name, to forget any version of her that wasn’t carved into his hips, to feel her as she’d felt him; shattered and slick with it.
The moment his cock springs free, thick and flushed, Flora’s hips are already sinking. The stretch burns perfect, her whole body tightening as she guides him into her, inch by inch, swallowing him with a moan that tangles in her throat. Gods, he’s deep—so deep—and with the clinging heat of water and the wet of her, he slides in like her body was made for this. For him.
The fabric still binding his legs forces her to take control, and gods does she love it. With her thighs trembling, she presses herself down again, her muscles clenching around him as he thrusts up into her. The sound she makes is somewhere between a whimper and a curse, one arm coiling tight around his shoulder while her other hand finds his and places it over her breast, letting him feel every flutter of her racing heart, every shift of her breath as it hiccups in time with her movements.
Slow at first, Flora draws herself up only to sink again, deeper, harder, again and again until the wet slap of their bodies is lost in steam and sighs. Her head tips forward, golden curls spilling water, eyes half-lidded but locked on him. She braces herself against him, her lips parted as she pants, her whole body caught in the rhythm of pleasure and power, and the adoration flooding her chest is almost too much to bear. "Fuck," she gasps, breath snagging, hips grinding down harder. "You feel so—" But the words dissolve into another moan, her nails curling into his shoulder as her rhythm stutters with need.
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
