Used to keep it cool, used to be a fool
His shoulder rolls in response to the prod of her voice, grin lingering in answer. Almost falling is the key word, and given that dragon riding is a skill he's picked up on the fly, it's the only one that matters to him. He had considered bringing a saddle this time, or some variant of it as a leather strap to help him stay on, but doing so seemed at risk of inspiring Charlie towards bondage for future hang out sessions, and he'd prefer to avoid that entirely. Riding her is already enough trouble.
Warmth blooms the moment her palm fits over his abdomen, his skin always greedy for the feel of her. Slipping from his hopelessly disheveled hair, his hand sprawls over hers, fingers grazing past her wrist as he snugly holds her to his stomach. "Is that so? Well any friend of yours is a friend of mine, I'd love to meet them." His hand claims the one on his belly entirely now, lifting it for a brief and obnoxiously wet kiss along the tops of her fingers. "These ones aren't ghosts too, are they?" he wonders, dropping her hand lower again, though still tucking it in his. With both Niki pretending to be one, and Neron her date with the afterlife beau, he's starting to wonder if she has any left among the living or if Remi's connection with Mort has blurred the lines of the realms too thoroughly for her.
Though, friends and spirits don't matter much at all, not for the time being, not when she's flashing him that daring look of hers that undoes every part of him in a breath. He'd chase that look anywhere.
As she turns his arm rises with her for a moment, reluctant to release her, but he looses her into the night with all the intention of reclaiming her before long. Now at least he can fully admire the way she manages to shine, even now, too vibrant and stunning to lose entirely among all the shadows that have crept in. His stride steadies at her absence, no longer wombling with her, and every step forward fills the ones she takes back, a stalking give and take across the beach.
The effortless way she pulls her sweater free quickens his pulse, each moment feeling like the first all over again as his heart lurches into song at the mere sight of her. "See?" he queries, hunger roughening the end as his attention drips from the bounce of gold around her shoulders to the eager display of her freed chest. "Easy." Though, plenty about it all will be hard.
When she stops, so does he, head tilting in a lazy consideration that’s entirely feigned as her teeth catch her lip. The tease of her is a thrill all on its own, demanding every shred of restraint to keep him from pouncing right then and there. His gaze drifts over her like sunlight coaxing a bloom—slow, reverent, and shameless. Firelight gilds every curve and contour of her, and though the shadows cling thick, they're not enough to hide the temptation of her body and the radiant way she defies the night. She wears grace and hard-won victory in equal measure, the kind of flower that grows where nothing should, that unfolds in bright splendor just to prove she can.
A grin spreads slow and certain, the kind that says he’s already decided how this ends. "Oh, I mean to do many things about it," he murmurs, voice low and threaded with wolfish laughter.
He breaks then, sand spraying underfoot as he lunges for her, hands outstretched. The night erupts with his carefree laughter and the growl of pursuit, a blur of limbs and salt air. Confidence thrums through every stride, certain he’ll seize her, grip swiping to reclaim her waist and drew her to him, even if they both tumble into the sand in the process.
Warmth blooms the moment her palm fits over his abdomen, his skin always greedy for the feel of her. Slipping from his hopelessly disheveled hair, his hand sprawls over hers, fingers grazing past her wrist as he snugly holds her to his stomach. "Is that so? Well any friend of yours is a friend of mine, I'd love to meet them." His hand claims the one on his belly entirely now, lifting it for a brief and obnoxiously wet kiss along the tops of her fingers. "These ones aren't ghosts too, are they?" he wonders, dropping her hand lower again, though still tucking it in his. With both Niki pretending to be one, and Neron her date with the afterlife beau, he's starting to wonder if she has any left among the living or if Remi's connection with Mort has blurred the lines of the realms too thoroughly for her.
Though, friends and spirits don't matter much at all, not for the time being, not when she's flashing him that daring look of hers that undoes every part of him in a breath. He'd chase that look anywhere.
As she turns his arm rises with her for a moment, reluctant to release her, but he looses her into the night with all the intention of reclaiming her before long. Now at least he can fully admire the way she manages to shine, even now, too vibrant and stunning to lose entirely among all the shadows that have crept in. His stride steadies at her absence, no longer wombling with her, and every step forward fills the ones she takes back, a stalking give and take across the beach.
The effortless way she pulls her sweater free quickens his pulse, each moment feeling like the first all over again as his heart lurches into song at the mere sight of her. "See?" he queries, hunger roughening the end as his attention drips from the bounce of gold around her shoulders to the eager display of her freed chest. "Easy." Though, plenty about it all will be hard.
When she stops, so does he, head tilting in a lazy consideration that’s entirely feigned as her teeth catch her lip. The tease of her is a thrill all on its own, demanding every shred of restraint to keep him from pouncing right then and there. His gaze drifts over her like sunlight coaxing a bloom—slow, reverent, and shameless. Firelight gilds every curve and contour of her, and though the shadows cling thick, they're not enough to hide the temptation of her body and the radiant way she defies the night. She wears grace and hard-won victory in equal measure, the kind of flower that grows where nothing should, that unfolds in bright splendor just to prove she can.
A grin spreads slow and certain, the kind that says he’s already decided how this ends. "Oh, I mean to do many things about it," he murmurs, voice low and threaded with wolfish laughter.
He breaks then, sand spraying underfoot as he lunges for her, hands outstretched. The night erupts with his carefree laughter and the growl of pursuit, a blur of limbs and salt air. Confidence thrums through every stride, certain he’ll seize her, grip swiping to reclaim her waist and drew her to him, even if they both tumble into the sand in the process.
Kaisel
All about the bounce in my step
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
