I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings
Time has unspooled itself like a ribbon caught in wind, weightless and bright and ungraspable, and the only thing she knows with any certainty is the warm brush of lips whispering across her forehead. The contact draws a soft sigh from her lungs, and the fingers that had been gripping Kai’s arms like lifelines loosen instinctively, reshaping themselves around the back of his neck instead. Her legs melt, falling from where they'd wrapped around him, boneless now, her whole body slipping into the sheets as if gravity has finally remembered it can have her back. Kai stays against her like a blanket for a moment until he crashes beside her, and the moment he does, she moves instinctively to meet him.
She finds all the empty spaces between them and fills them as quickly as breath. Her thigh hitches over his; her arm curls beneath the crook of his; her palm flattens over his chest, fingers curling loosely over the golden charm still nestled there. There’s no urgency to it, no hunger left unsated; just the deep, luxurious ache of being utterly undone and wholly held at the same time. And gods, how she loves him. A surge of it comes screaming up through her like birds startled into flight, this wild burst of love so sharp it almost stings, made more foolish and more profound by the way her heart still hasn’t calmed down from the storm they just survived. She’s aware it’s ridiculous, being so well-fucked that she feels like she loves him more, but she also doesn’t care. If this kind of connection didn’t leave you changed, what was even the point?
Still buried in the tangle of his limbs and her affection, she reaches behind her and gropes blindly for one of the blankets, catching the edge and dragging it up over them with a little victorious sound. With a few gentle tugs and some very uncoordinated wriggling, she manages to burrito them together without disturbing the exquisite laziness of the moment, her cheek settling against his shoulder. "Mmm," she hums, her voice syrupy and low, "if you fuck me like that, I’ll do anything you want." The joke is dreamy and delighted, her laughter warm against his skin as she tilts her chin just enough to look up at him, aqua eyes glassy with affection and still gleaming at the corners with starry aftershocks.
Unable to help herself, she twists her foot just slightly until her toe brushes against the bottom of his, knowing full well how ticklish he can be when caught off-guard. The mischief barely has time to bloom before she tries to cover it, smothering his mouth with a kiss, still a little breathless but soft and smiling, whispering against his lips, "Happy birthday."
Reaching up to steal a pillow for them both to share, she nestles herself even closer before calling out into the cabin with a hoarse little shout: "Spiiiiiice, we’re dead. You’re the captain now. Don’t let us crash into anything while we’re sleeping." The white dragon chirps somewhere distantly in acknowledgement, and with one final sleepy giggle, Flora lets her eyes flutter shut. Wrapped in warmth, wrapped in him, wrapped in everything that just happened, she drifts like the tide she loves, safe and steady in the arms she trusts most.
~FIN
She finds all the empty spaces between them and fills them as quickly as breath. Her thigh hitches over his; her arm curls beneath the crook of his; her palm flattens over his chest, fingers curling loosely over the golden charm still nestled there. There’s no urgency to it, no hunger left unsated; just the deep, luxurious ache of being utterly undone and wholly held at the same time. And gods, how she loves him. A surge of it comes screaming up through her like birds startled into flight, this wild burst of love so sharp it almost stings, made more foolish and more profound by the way her heart still hasn’t calmed down from the storm they just survived. She’s aware it’s ridiculous, being so well-fucked that she feels like she loves him more, but she also doesn’t care. If this kind of connection didn’t leave you changed, what was even the point?
Still buried in the tangle of his limbs and her affection, she reaches behind her and gropes blindly for one of the blankets, catching the edge and dragging it up over them with a little victorious sound. With a few gentle tugs and some very uncoordinated wriggling, she manages to burrito them together without disturbing the exquisite laziness of the moment, her cheek settling against his shoulder. "Mmm," she hums, her voice syrupy and low, "if you fuck me like that, I’ll do anything you want." The joke is dreamy and delighted, her laughter warm against his skin as she tilts her chin just enough to look up at him, aqua eyes glassy with affection and still gleaming at the corners with starry aftershocks.
Unable to help herself, she twists her foot just slightly until her toe brushes against the bottom of his, knowing full well how ticklish he can be when caught off-guard. The mischief barely has time to bloom before she tries to cover it, smothering his mouth with a kiss, still a little breathless but soft and smiling, whispering against his lips, "Happy birthday."
Reaching up to steal a pillow for them both to share, she nestles herself even closer before calling out into the cabin with a hoarse little shout: "Spiiiiiice, we’re dead. You’re the captain now. Don’t let us crash into anything while we’re sleeping." The white dragon chirps somewhere distantly in acknowledgement, and with one final sleepy giggle, Flora lets her eyes flutter shut. Wrapped in warmth, wrapped in him, wrapped in everything that just happened, she drifts like the tide she loves, safe and steady in the arms she trusts most.
~FIN
and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this
