bottom line, we made it out the first time still in love and half alive
Every careful movement Jack makes pulls another surge through her, and the intensity builds faster than she can track it. It is no longer just heat or curiosity or even hunger; it is a gathering force, something coiling tighter and tighter inside her with each breath she drags in. His hands anchoring her hips, the subtle shift of the floorboards beneath him, the rhythm he keeps with quiet certainty, all of it feeds the blaze roaring through her.
At some point her grip in his hair loosens without her noticing. Her hand slides to his shoulder, then slips helplessly to the bed as her body takes over. Her fingers clutch at the sheets, twisting the fabric tight as her back arches from the mattress. Her legs draw up and around him instinctively, holding him there as if she fears being swept away from the epicenter of what he’s building. The sounds that spill from her are raw and unfiltered, not shaped for effect or control; they rise and break from her as honestly as the swell of a storm tide.
The pressure inside her becomes almost unbearable, swelling, tightening, a bright edge she can feel approaching but cannot yet see beyond. Her breath fractures into sharp gasps, and for a heartbeat she feels suspended on the lip of something vast. Her eyes fly open, startled by the magnitude of it, and she cries his name just as the crest breaks.
The release hits like a rolling wave tearing free of its restraint. The pressure that had ballooned in her belly explodes outward in radiant pulses, washing through her limbs, up her spine, into her chest. It feels limitless, like the sea thrown wide under a breaking sky, her thoughts scattering and expanding in all directions at once. The ocean of her mind surges beyond its usual boundaries, bright and boundless and roaring, until there is nothing but the force of it carrying her forward and over and through. Her body follows the rhythm helplessly, trembling and arching as each aftershock ripples outward, leaving her breathless and stunned in the wake of it; in the harbour, the Ark tilts and lists, caught in its own localized tsunami.
At some point her grip in his hair loosens without her noticing. Her hand slides to his shoulder, then slips helplessly to the bed as her body takes over. Her fingers clutch at the sheets, twisting the fabric tight as her back arches from the mattress. Her legs draw up and around him instinctively, holding him there as if she fears being swept away from the epicenter of what he’s building. The sounds that spill from her are raw and unfiltered, not shaped for effect or control; they rise and break from her as honestly as the swell of a storm tide.
The pressure inside her becomes almost unbearable, swelling, tightening, a bright edge she can feel approaching but cannot yet see beyond. Her breath fractures into sharp gasps, and for a heartbeat she feels suspended on the lip of something vast. Her eyes fly open, startled by the magnitude of it, and she cries his name just as the crest breaks.
The release hits like a rolling wave tearing free of its restraint. The pressure that had ballooned in her belly explodes outward in radiant pulses, washing through her limbs, up her spine, into her chest. It feels limitless, like the sea thrown wide under a breaking sky, her thoughts scattering and expanding in all directions at once. The ocean of her mind surges beyond its usual boundaries, bright and boundless and roaring, until there is nothing but the force of it carrying her forward and over and through. Her body follows the rhythm helplessly, trembling and arching as each aftershock ripples outward, leaving her breathless and stunned in the wake of it; in the harbour, the Ark tilts and lists, caught in its own localized tsunami.
we didn't die, but no guarantees this time, but fuck it lets do it again
Siren's Wake | After she leaves a space, traces of her presence linger briefly: a faint scent of salt, the sound of distant water, a restless feeling in the chest. People rarely notice it consciously.
