Flora
The moment Kaisel gives in, when every tense, coiled muscle in his body breaks beneath hers and he drives up into her with that raw, unguarded sound, Flora comes undone all over again; not from her own climax this time, but from his. The pulse of him, the wild chant of her name spilling past his lips like it’s the only word he knows—gods, it wrecks her in the most delicious way. Her body’s still trembling from the last orgasm, and the fresh flood of heat inside her, draws out the ache in her thighs and the throb still living beneath her ribs like an echo.
The second Kaisel collapses back against the slick tile, Flora folds forward like the wave she is, liquid and glowing and entirely spent. She sprawls herself over him, breasts to chest, cheek to shoulder, her body draped against his like some sated jungle cat lounging in the sun. Only it’s rain pouring over them now, hot and relentless, soaking every golden curl to her scalp and dripping down her back in rivulets.
Her lips wander lazily over him, kisses like droplets along his collarbone, up the column of his throat, over the sharp cut of his jaw; her tongue a teasing afterthought here and there as if she isn’t quite ready to stop devouring him. But eventually, the weight of him beneath her and the lingering tremble in her limbs drags her still. She lets herself settle against him with a satisfied exhale, her head tucked beneath his chin, arms loosely wound around his middle.
Then—laughter. Soft at first, breathless and delighted, tumbling from her mouth like it can’t be helped. Because gods, really, what the fuck? "I can’t believe we just did that," she pants into the soaked curve of his neck, the words vibrating against his pulse with amusement and disbelief both. Her nose nuzzles at his jawline, affection layered in every brush of skin. "Or that you’re still wearing pants."
The second Kaisel collapses back against the slick tile, Flora folds forward like the wave she is, liquid and glowing and entirely spent. She sprawls herself over him, breasts to chest, cheek to shoulder, her body draped against his like some sated jungle cat lounging in the sun. Only it’s rain pouring over them now, hot and relentless, soaking every golden curl to her scalp and dripping down her back in rivulets.
Her lips wander lazily over him, kisses like droplets along his collarbone, up the column of his throat, over the sharp cut of his jaw; her tongue a teasing afterthought here and there as if she isn’t quite ready to stop devouring him. But eventually, the weight of him beneath her and the lingering tremble in her limbs drags her still. She lets herself settle against him with a satisfied exhale, her head tucked beneath his chin, arms loosely wound around his middle.
Then—laughter. Soft at first, breathless and delighted, tumbling from her mouth like it can’t be helped. Because gods, really, what the fuck? "I can’t believe we just did that," she pants into the soaked curve of his neck, the words vibrating against his pulse with amusement and disbelief both. Her nose nuzzles at his jawline, affection layered in every brush of skin. "Or that you’re still wearing pants."
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
