is this the end of all the endings?
Flora’s laughter bursts out sharp and wild, the kind of delighted, unhinged cackle that could only belong to a disney villain; or, in this case, a woman very pleased with her own handiwork. "Ooooh look at you!" she gasps between peals of laughter, barely managing to breathe as Kai thrashes beneath her. He’s always been the most dramatic when she’s got him trapped—whether it’s tickling him, drowning him in feathers, or now, sculpting his body out of mud—and she loves how he always plays right into it, how his laughter always tangles up with hers until she can’t tell whose is whose.
She finally releases him, sitting back just enough for his hands to roam the new topography of his chest. Watching him lift a brow at his handiwork makes her grin all the wider. "See? Pretty good, right?" she teases, smirking down at him as his fingers squeeze experimentally at the muddy mounds.
But then he’s tugging at her arm, and she goes pitching forward with a startled laugh, curls falling in front of her face. Normally, the position would have her reaching straight for the button of his pants—and judging by the way her body slots against his, it’s definitely muscle memory that almost wins out—but the mud stops any chance of that. Instead, she lets out an indignant, "KaiSEL!" his name drawn out in mock outrage, as she clamps her knees lightly against his ears and digs her fingers mercilessly into his hips, trying to tickle the mischief right out of him.
She finally releases him, sitting back just enough for his hands to roam the new topography of his chest. Watching him lift a brow at his handiwork makes her grin all the wider. "See? Pretty good, right?" she teases, smirking down at him as his fingers squeeze experimentally at the muddy mounds.
But then he’s tugging at her arm, and she goes pitching forward with a startled laugh, curls falling in front of her face. Normally, the position would have her reaching straight for the button of his pants—and judging by the way her body slots against his, it’s definitely muscle memory that almost wins out—but the mud stops any chance of that. Instead, she lets out an indignant, "KaiSEL!" his name drawn out in mock outrage, as she clamps her knees lightly against his ears and digs her fingers mercilessly into his hips, trying to tickle the mischief right out of him.
my broken bones are mending
