you can call me honey if you want
He feels like heat forged into flesh, like power and affection wound tight beneath every tremble of muscle and curl of fingers, and gods, Flora adores the way he holds her. The grip in her hair isn’t cruel or controlling; it’s claiming, anchoring, a wordless yes to everything she gives him, and it sets off a matching hum beneath her skin that sings in harmony with his every sound. Each gasp he offers, every strained groan and fluttering exhale, is something she swallows eagerly, recording it deep in her bones as though it were sacred. The flinch of his hips, the way he strains and twitches against her tongue, all of it builds into a rising ecstasy that makes her want to shatter apart just to hear him again. There’s no greater reward than watching him break apart in pleasure, no sweeter gift than knowing it was her that brought him to the edge, and even though her knees ache against the bench now and her jaw strains with the angle, she wouldn't stop if the sky cracked open and rained down stars around them.
Her own body keeps shivering with little bursts of tension, each one sparked by the rhythm of her fingers still circling her clit, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter like a tide on the cusp of breaking. She had meant to clean them both, meant to lap the mud from him so she could slide into his lap and take him in properly, but those plans have dissolved like sugar in the steam. Now she wants nothing more than to taste the moment he lets go, to feel him spill into her mouth while her own pleasure blooms in tandem. As he groans her name and warns her, voice ragged and breathless, she inhales through her nose with steady intent, not as a brace but as a promise, a preparation for the final wave she’s about to coax from him.
She deepens her ministrations with care and hunger, her tongue flicking beneath the head of his cock even as her hand continues its pressure between her thighs, and the moment he tips over the edge, it sets her off too. Her orgasm crashes through her in a sudden, soaring burst, her whole body trembling as muscles clench and her breath shudders in a moan muffled around his cock. She pitches forward, toes curling against slick tile, every nerve singing with molten pleasure as she takes him in fully, feeling the way he pulses and spills across her tongue, her throat working instinctively even as her mind spins from the high of it all. Her thighs quake, the pleasure wrung from her still echoing with aftershocks by the time his own release begins to fade.
Only when he’s finished, his cock no longer twitching, does she let him go, her jaw relaxing with a gasp as she steadies herself against his thighs. Her hands tremble slightly, but she uses them to push herself upright, rising from her knees with slow, liquid grace. There’s no tension left in her limbs, only the soft looseness of satisfaction as she sinks into his lap, straddling him with her hips snug to his, thighs bracketing his as she collapses against the warmth of his chest. Her skin still shivers faintly, her breath shallow, but her hands press to his cheeks like he’s the only solid thing in a world gone hazy and golden. She tilts his head toward her, mouth finding his in a kiss that’s deep and consuming, lips parted in a moan that’s more whimper than sound, as if she’s trying to pour all the heat, all the triumph, all the aching love inside her directly into his mouth.
Her own body keeps shivering with little bursts of tension, each one sparked by the rhythm of her fingers still circling her clit, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter like a tide on the cusp of breaking. She had meant to clean them both, meant to lap the mud from him so she could slide into his lap and take him in properly, but those plans have dissolved like sugar in the steam. Now she wants nothing more than to taste the moment he lets go, to feel him spill into her mouth while her own pleasure blooms in tandem. As he groans her name and warns her, voice ragged and breathless, she inhales through her nose with steady intent, not as a brace but as a promise, a preparation for the final wave she’s about to coax from him.
She deepens her ministrations with care and hunger, her tongue flicking beneath the head of his cock even as her hand continues its pressure between her thighs, and the moment he tips over the edge, it sets her off too. Her orgasm crashes through her in a sudden, soaring burst, her whole body trembling as muscles clench and her breath shudders in a moan muffled around his cock. She pitches forward, toes curling against slick tile, every nerve singing with molten pleasure as she takes him in fully, feeling the way he pulses and spills across her tongue, her throat working instinctively even as her mind spins from the high of it all. Her thighs quake, the pleasure wrung from her still echoing with aftershocks by the time his own release begins to fade.
Only when he’s finished, his cock no longer twitching, does she let him go, her jaw relaxing with a gasp as she steadies herself against his thighs. Her hands tremble slightly, but she uses them to push herself upright, rising from her knees with slow, liquid grace. There’s no tension left in her limbs, only the soft looseness of satisfaction as she sinks into his lap, straddling him with her hips snug to his, thighs bracketing his as she collapses against the warmth of his chest. Her skin still shivers faintly, her breath shallow, but her hands press to his cheeks like he’s the only solid thing in a world gone hazy and golden. She tilts his head toward her, mouth finding his in a kiss that’s deep and consuming, lips parted in a moan that’s more whimper than sound, as if she’s trying to pour all the heat, all the triumph, all the aching love inside her directly into his mouth.
