Need a hundred lifetimes kinda love
The quick return of the hat earns a flash of his grin, gaze lingering longer than necessary as she shakes the pom-poms around intentionally now. He doesn't dawdle because of the fluff, though he can't deny his focus snags on it briefly—it's because of her that his attention is slow to depart. Like this, she's utterly perfect, and he holds her in that moment as long as he can. There are dozens of other times where the various shades of her color his life, none ever entirely the same, and always seeming to shift a little bit in his memory, the kaleidoscope of Flora. When he notices it as it's happening though, that's when he really takes the time to look, like catching sight of a sunset without meaning to and dropping everything to watch its splendor in full. She's still a little unguarded right now, recovering from the raw feat of survival and the honesty of gleaming imperfections, and that leaves her softer than usual, although no less bright. The hat pulled back over her head is just the right amount of ridiculous and adorable, her smile framing everything with the uneven shape of blossoming joy that he so adores watching take over her expression. He's powerless in this moment to do anything but watch, so in love with her that she overwhelms the rest of the world in these sorts of moments.
Eventually the heat of the chocolate prep nips at his awareness, dragging him from the magnitude of her back to the reality of cooking and open flame. Readying it all and turning to marshmallow catching, he stills mid-chew, catching the spark of a look she tosses him like he's built of kindling. All it takes is her arms circling around his neck to push the blaze fully to life, hands going limp at his sides, the remainder of his marshmallows tumbling to join the rest of the debris on the floor. Heat rolls from her into him, a presence that he feels gliding up and over his head like a snug hoodie he's drawn on, but she's the only thing that's been pulled on. It sinks with the faintest reddening of his cheeks at the coal-warm murmur of her praise, and he finds himself unusually shy in that spotlight. Fortunately, he's able to shelter behind the soft insistence of her lips.
Their warm embrace is the last bit of heat he needs to fully melt against her. He might've done just that too, readily leaning back to feel the chase of her teeth, but equally they deliver such intentional strength that his spine stiffens against the counter. His slack hands rise with newfound purpose, sweeping up her sides, rushing up into her hair, holding her for a heartbeat or two as he deepens her offer with his own. There's a certain edge to it, a hasty line that speaks to the adrenaline still subsiding from him too, that rush of maybe losing more than a perfect evening something that's still echoing through him. Without pausing, he sweeps one of his arms over the counter, scattering odds and ends which clink together as they're shoved into a new space. With some room made, he reaches down to lift her ass onto the counter, chasing the rise of her with a final, panting break of breath.
"Only if you also mention how you valiantly manned the helm the whole time and knew the right god to use," he says low into the curve of one of her cheeks as he tilts against her.
Eventually the heat of the chocolate prep nips at his awareness, dragging him from the magnitude of her back to the reality of cooking and open flame. Readying it all and turning to marshmallow catching, he stills mid-chew, catching the spark of a look she tosses him like he's built of kindling. All it takes is her arms circling around his neck to push the blaze fully to life, hands going limp at his sides, the remainder of his marshmallows tumbling to join the rest of the debris on the floor. Heat rolls from her into him, a presence that he feels gliding up and over his head like a snug hoodie he's drawn on, but she's the only thing that's been pulled on. It sinks with the faintest reddening of his cheeks at the coal-warm murmur of her praise, and he finds himself unusually shy in that spotlight. Fortunately, he's able to shelter behind the soft insistence of her lips.
Their warm embrace is the last bit of heat he needs to fully melt against her. He might've done just that too, readily leaning back to feel the chase of her teeth, but equally they deliver such intentional strength that his spine stiffens against the counter. His slack hands rise with newfound purpose, sweeping up her sides, rushing up into her hair, holding her for a heartbeat or two as he deepens her offer with his own. There's a certain edge to it, a hasty line that speaks to the adrenaline still subsiding from him too, that rush of maybe losing more than a perfect evening something that's still echoing through him. Without pausing, he sweeps one of his arms over the counter, scattering odds and ends which clink together as they're shoved into a new space. With some room made, he reaches down to lift her ass onto the counter, chasing the rise of her with a final, panting break of breath.
"Only if you also mention how you valiantly manned the helm the whole time and knew the right god to use," he says low into the curve of one of her cheeks as he tilts against her.
Kaisel
I could say forever, but forever ain't long enough
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
