we show off our different scarlet letters
The sound of mine in his voice—gravelled and low, carved right from his chest—strikes something dangerous and tender inside her. Flora’s breath catches, the word blooming like fire in her lungs, reckless promises forming on her tongue before she can stop them. Promises of forever and always, declared right now, as easy as breathing. As right as waves kissing the shore. But instead of speaking them, she pours them into the kiss, kissing him like it might translate into language, like maybe he’ll feel it in the way her mouth parts for him, in the way her hands slide up around his shoulders and lock him close like she never wants to let go. Because she doesn't.
And gods, she’s so turned on by Kaisel it’s almost unbearable. It's the kind of ache that spreads everywhere at once; sharp in her chest, deep in her belly, coiling through every nerve. Her skin hums with it, and every brush of his cock against her thigh makes it worse, especially when there’s nothing to be done about it out here. They’re both floating on the edge of madness, and the water doesn’t care. The ocean keeps them weightless, wanting, just barely out of reach.
When his forehead presses to hers, when his hand finds her ass and he holds her just right, Flora breathes out a breathless laugh, her voice warm in the space between them. "I kind of love wanting you like this," she whispers, neither shy nor apologetic. Her fingers thread through his hair, gripping lightly, a wordless underscore to the wild tension between them. She shifts just enough to catch his cock between her thighs as her nails trail down his back and settle over the familiar scarring there.
Her lips find the shell of his ear, her words husky and light all at once. "I love wanting you this badly and not being able to do anything about it," she murmurs, her breath brushing the hair at his temple. Her thighs press tighter, slowly, rhythmically, just to tease the friction back into place. " Because it makes me think about all the ways you could take me, all the ways I could have you, if we were anywhere else." She shivers against him—not from the cold, but from the flood of heat and thrill that skitters across her skin; breath coming harder now as her mind spins with images she wants to say out loud, but barely keeps to herself.
As the water tugs them apart and the tide claims her legs and she has to let go, she floats backward with a sigh that’s equal parts arousal and longing. Her toes curl against the seafloor just before it vanishes beneath her again, and she tips her head back, staring up at the starless sky, breath still coming fast.
When Kaisel bursts back up beside her, all grin and dripping hair, she has one arm braced lazily against the nearest floating raft, its little candle flickering golden light over the swell of her breasts and the gleam of water across her collarbones. Her grin crooks slow and knowing. "In Floratopolis," she says, "everyone will have a magic item that creates special Frey-approved surfaces to fuck their frustratingly hot boyfriends against, anytime the mood strikes."
And gods, she’s so turned on by Kaisel it’s almost unbearable. It's the kind of ache that spreads everywhere at once; sharp in her chest, deep in her belly, coiling through every nerve. Her skin hums with it, and every brush of his cock against her thigh makes it worse, especially when there’s nothing to be done about it out here. They’re both floating on the edge of madness, and the water doesn’t care. The ocean keeps them weightless, wanting, just barely out of reach.
When his forehead presses to hers, when his hand finds her ass and he holds her just right, Flora breathes out a breathless laugh, her voice warm in the space between them. "I kind of love wanting you like this," she whispers, neither shy nor apologetic. Her fingers thread through his hair, gripping lightly, a wordless underscore to the wild tension between them. She shifts just enough to catch his cock between her thighs as her nails trail down his back and settle over the familiar scarring there.
Her lips find the shell of his ear, her words husky and light all at once. "I love wanting you this badly and not being able to do anything about it," she murmurs, her breath brushing the hair at his temple. Her thighs press tighter, slowly, rhythmically, just to tease the friction back into place. " Because it makes me think about all the ways you could take me, all the ways I could have you, if we were anywhere else." She shivers against him—not from the cold, but from the flood of heat and thrill that skitters across her skin; breath coming harder now as her mind spins with images she wants to say out loud, but barely keeps to herself.
As the water tugs them apart and the tide claims her legs and she has to let go, she floats backward with a sigh that’s equal parts arousal and longing. Her toes curl against the seafloor just before it vanishes beneath her again, and she tips her head back, staring up at the starless sky, breath still coming fast.
When Kaisel bursts back up beside her, all grin and dripping hair, she has one arm braced lazily against the nearest floating raft, its little candle flickering golden light over the swell of her breasts and the gleam of water across her collarbones. Her grin crooks slow and knowing. "In Floratopolis," she says, "everyone will have a magic item that creates special Frey-approved surfaces to fuck their frustratingly hot boyfriends against, anytime the mood strikes."
