Flora
The low sound in Kai's throat, the one that slips free when his cock slides between her thighs, is enough to have heat blooming through her with dizzying ease, her breath catching like a spark held too close to oil. And then there’s his hand—firm and possessive where it spreads across her belly, dragging her flush against him—leaving her with no room to pretend this isn’t exactly what she wants, because fuck if the entire point of going for daily runs wasn't to feel someone touching her like this.
Her thighs tighten involuntarily as her skin prickles beneath his touch, every inch of her going tense with restrained anticipation, though she forces her voice to remain playful as her nails scrape lightly back into his hair. "Am I?" she breathes, not even trying to hide the smile curling into her voice, slow and sultry with a current of arousal laced through it. "You’re the one who wanted to sleep like this."
But then his hand is rising, finding her breasts and the sound that escapes her lips is soft and helpless and everything she tries not to give too quickly. She’s still half-lost in it when he suddenly yanks her shoulder down, the movement sharp, catching her off guard. Maybe she would’ve swatted him for it, maybe she would’ve pushed back just a little, but then his hips are grinding into her from behind, the thick press of his cock no longer just gliding between her thighs but pushing higher now, slick and hot and perfectly poised to slip inside with only the barest effort. Her whole body flutters in response, breath catching as a sharp bolt of arousal cracks through her, making her toes curl and her chest hitch.
"I’m only trying to help," she murmurs, her smile turning wicked now as she presses her spine against him with purpose. "You seem so tense.." The words are nothing more than breath as she tips her head back, the press of her skin there is soft and bare, offered like a dare, and when she speaks again, it’s in a whisper, coaxing and feather-light. "Maybe you just need to relax..."
And gods, she hopes he doesn’t, because her hips are already moving, slow and deliberate, her back arching just enough to change the angle. She shifts with intention, catching the head of his cock at her entrance, and there’s no teasing this time, no lazy glide between her thighs—only the warm, wet heat of her body as she sinks back to take him inside. He fills her like he belongs there, slick and greedy and thick enough to draw a tremble through her limbs, her breath catching with the effort of holding steady. Control is hers (for now), and she savours it—the way her muscles flutter around him in greedy pulses, the way her arousal coils bright and burning low in her belly, a heat that pulses outward with every shallow breath.
One hand slips behind her to press against his hip, not to guide but to still, to keep him right there as she rolls forward with glacial slowness. She almost lets him slip free entirely, her breath faltering at the friction, only to glide back down with a sigh that cracks into a soft whimper, thick with need. Every inch of him feels like worship, like weight, like the grounding she never knew she craved until he gave it. And gods, it would be so easy to give in—to move faster, to ride the edge until she’s gasping—but instead she holds it, hips pressed back, her whole body taut with restraint as she clenches around him and lets the pleasure ripple through her again, molten and quiet and devastating.
Her thighs tighten involuntarily as her skin prickles beneath his touch, every inch of her going tense with restrained anticipation, though she forces her voice to remain playful as her nails scrape lightly back into his hair. "Am I?" she breathes, not even trying to hide the smile curling into her voice, slow and sultry with a current of arousal laced through it. "You’re the one who wanted to sleep like this."
But then his hand is rising, finding her breasts and the sound that escapes her lips is soft and helpless and everything she tries not to give too quickly. She’s still half-lost in it when he suddenly yanks her shoulder down, the movement sharp, catching her off guard. Maybe she would’ve swatted him for it, maybe she would’ve pushed back just a little, but then his hips are grinding into her from behind, the thick press of his cock no longer just gliding between her thighs but pushing higher now, slick and hot and perfectly poised to slip inside with only the barest effort. Her whole body flutters in response, breath catching as a sharp bolt of arousal cracks through her, making her toes curl and her chest hitch.
"I’m only trying to help," she murmurs, her smile turning wicked now as she presses her spine against him with purpose. "You seem so tense.." The words are nothing more than breath as she tips her head back, the press of her skin there is soft and bare, offered like a dare, and when she speaks again, it’s in a whisper, coaxing and feather-light. "Maybe you just need to relax..."
And gods, she hopes he doesn’t, because her hips are already moving, slow and deliberate, her back arching just enough to change the angle. She shifts with intention, catching the head of his cock at her entrance, and there’s no teasing this time, no lazy glide between her thighs—only the warm, wet heat of her body as she sinks back to take him inside. He fills her like he belongs there, slick and greedy and thick enough to draw a tremble through her limbs, her breath catching with the effort of holding steady. Control is hers (for now), and she savours it—the way her muscles flutter around him in greedy pulses, the way her arousal coils bright and burning low in her belly, a heat that pulses outward with every shallow breath.
One hand slips behind her to press against his hip, not to guide but to still, to keep him right there as she rolls forward with glacial slowness. She almost lets him slip free entirely, her breath faltering at the friction, only to glide back down with a sigh that cracks into a soft whimper, thick with need. Every inch of him feels like worship, like weight, like the grounding she never knew she craved until he gave it. And gods, it would be so easy to give in—to move faster, to ride the edge until she’s gasping—but instead she holds it, hips pressed back, her whole body taut with restraint as she clenches around him and lets the pleasure ripple through her again, molten and quiet and devastating.
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
