flora
The world narrows until it feels as though it has been drawn through the eye of a needle, until there is nothing beyond the charged space between Kaisel's hand and her throat, the molten glide of her hips sinking down against him, the firm constellation of his fingers on her ass guiding her closer, deeper, higher into something that no longer resembles thought. It's no longer a room, no longer a couch, no longer even a body so much as a field of static and flame where every nerve has been stripped bright and humming. Her eyes slip closed, lashes trembling against her cheeks as soft, feathered sounds escape her, little broken offerings that barely make it into the air before dissolving against his skin, and she leans into the cradle of his palm as though it is the only solid thing left in a dissolving universe.
Pleasure begins to gather low and deep, not sudden but swelling, a tide pulling back so far it makes her ache with the waiting of it. The pressure at her throat sharpens it, refines it, turns every flicker of sensation into something edged and electric, and she cannot find words for what is happening inside her body because it feels less like language and more like weather. Her brows knit, lips parting in a silent, trembling shape that might look like strain in any other context, but there is no fear there, only the exquisite stretch of something about to break open. Her fingers slip beneath her thighs, seeking that final spark that will ignite everything else, circling her clit in time with the relentless rhythm of her hips, and the world fractures further as each small movement sends a stuttering ripple through her. She clings to his wrist with her other hand, grip tightening involuntarily, breath thinning into quick, shallow pulls that barely fill her lungs as her body begins to outrun her mind.
The pressure of her orgasm climbs, ballooning inside her until it feels impossible to contain, until she is nothing but a vessel straining against the walls of her own skin. The edge becomes unbearable in its brilliance, a white-hot seam splitting her open from the inside, and instinct overtakes intention as her fingers claw at Kaisel's wrist, tearing his hand away from her throat just as the crest hits. The first full breath she drags in is fire and lightning, igniting everything at once, and the release detonates through her with such force that she folds forward into him, head dropping against his shoulder as her body shudders uncontrollably. Sound pours out of her—raw and fractured—breathless cries that break and reform around the shape of his name as wave after wave rolls through her, each aftershock pulling another tremor from her spine, causing her to helplessly tighten her grip around him.
She cannot tell where she ends and he begins in those seconds, only that she is held, and that the storm she asked for has struck and left her incandescent and shaking in its wake. Her breath stutters against his skin, body still pulsing with the echo of it, and she clings to him as though he is both the lightning and the ground that keeps her from being consumed by it entirely.
Pleasure begins to gather low and deep, not sudden but swelling, a tide pulling back so far it makes her ache with the waiting of it. The pressure at her throat sharpens it, refines it, turns every flicker of sensation into something edged and electric, and she cannot find words for what is happening inside her body because it feels less like language and more like weather. Her brows knit, lips parting in a silent, trembling shape that might look like strain in any other context, but there is no fear there, only the exquisite stretch of something about to break open. Her fingers slip beneath her thighs, seeking that final spark that will ignite everything else, circling her clit in time with the relentless rhythm of her hips, and the world fractures further as each small movement sends a stuttering ripple through her. She clings to his wrist with her other hand, grip tightening involuntarily, breath thinning into quick, shallow pulls that barely fill her lungs as her body begins to outrun her mind.
The pressure of her orgasm climbs, ballooning inside her until it feels impossible to contain, until she is nothing but a vessel straining against the walls of her own skin. The edge becomes unbearable in its brilliance, a white-hot seam splitting her open from the inside, and instinct overtakes intention as her fingers claw at Kaisel's wrist, tearing his hand away from her throat just as the crest hits. The first full breath she drags in is fire and lightning, igniting everything at once, and the release detonates through her with such force that she folds forward into him, head dropping against his shoulder as her body shudders uncontrollably. Sound pours out of her—raw and fractured—breathless cries that break and reform around the shape of his name as wave after wave rolls through her, each aftershock pulling another tremor from her spine, causing her to helplessly tighten her grip around him.
She cannot tell where she ends and he begins in those seconds, only that she is held, and that the storm she asked for has struck and left her incandescent and shaking in its wake. Her breath stutters against his skin, body still pulsing with the echo of it, and she clings to him as though he is both the lightning and the ground that keeps her from being consumed by it entirely.
you don't know that you're living til' you're carrying scars
you're either falling in love or falling apart
you're either falling in love or falling apart
