flora
As she folds forward into him, the world tilts and spills, everything reduced to the fierce, dizzying certainty of his body against hers and the frantic rhythm still echoing through her bones. It feels as though they have fallen through the sky together and landed somewhere outside of time, somewhere stripped bare of consequence and noise, where only the pulse between them exists. The trembling descent from the peak she has just shattered upon is not gentle; it is bright and sparking and unfinished, and when his hands clamp hard at her hips, when he drives up into her with that sudden, possessive force, a broken little sound escapes her before she can stop it, something between a gasp and a whimper of pleasure that ripples down through her fingers and toes and back again.
The aftershocks are merciless, turning every movement into another flare of sensation. She clutches at him, nails grazing, breath spilling hot against his hairline as he follows her over the edge she carved. When he stiffens beneath her, when his body trembles and bows inward as though struck by the same lightning that split her open, she wraps her arms tight around his shoulders and sinks deeper into him, holding him as fiercely as he has held her. There is something sacred in the way he buries himself into her neck, something reverent and wild all at once, and she presses her lips against his skin, still panting, still unravelled, whispering nothing coherent except the shape of his name caught in the exhale.
For a while there is only breath and warmth and the heavy, molten quiet that follows a storm. Her pulse begins to steady, though it still stutters whenever she shifts even slightly against him. The haze thins, sanity creeping back in soft increments, and she lifts herself slowly, reluctant to break the line of their bodies but needing to see him. Her palms rise to cradle his jaw, fingers sliding along his cheeks as though memorizing the planes of him all over again, coaxing his gaze up to meet hers.
She leans down and kisses him, not with the same feral urgency as before but with something deeper, slower, the kind of kiss that tastes like relief and gratitude and awe. Even that is too much for her lungs and she breaks from it with a breathless laugh, lips brushing his again as though she cannot quite stop. "I love you so much," she whispers against his mouth, the words fragile and enormous at once, shimmering with the afterglow still humming beneath her skin. When she pulls back just enough to see him properly, her smile trembles, soft and almost disbelieving, smoothing a stray lock of hair from his forehead with fingers that still shake faintly. "Was that okay for you?" she asks gently, and though she tries to sound light, she's sure that probably it wasn't, not with how his focus had to be on her for so long rather than his own enjoyment, and appreciating him all the more for not abandoning her in the moment.
The aftershocks are merciless, turning every movement into another flare of sensation. She clutches at him, nails grazing, breath spilling hot against his hairline as he follows her over the edge she carved. When he stiffens beneath her, when his body trembles and bows inward as though struck by the same lightning that split her open, she wraps her arms tight around his shoulders and sinks deeper into him, holding him as fiercely as he has held her. There is something sacred in the way he buries himself into her neck, something reverent and wild all at once, and she presses her lips against his skin, still panting, still unravelled, whispering nothing coherent except the shape of his name caught in the exhale.
For a while there is only breath and warmth and the heavy, molten quiet that follows a storm. Her pulse begins to steady, though it still stutters whenever she shifts even slightly against him. The haze thins, sanity creeping back in soft increments, and she lifts herself slowly, reluctant to break the line of their bodies but needing to see him. Her palms rise to cradle his jaw, fingers sliding along his cheeks as though memorizing the planes of him all over again, coaxing his gaze up to meet hers.
She leans down and kisses him, not with the same feral urgency as before but with something deeper, slower, the kind of kiss that tastes like relief and gratitude and awe. Even that is too much for her lungs and she breaks from it with a breathless laugh, lips brushing his again as though she cannot quite stop. "I love you so much," she whispers against his mouth, the words fragile and enormous at once, shimmering with the afterglow still humming beneath her skin. When she pulls back just enough to see him properly, her smile trembles, soft and almost disbelieving, smoothing a stray lock of hair from his forehead with fingers that still shake faintly. "Was that okay for you?" she asks gently, and though she tries to sound light, she's sure that probably it wasn't, not with how his focus had to be on her for so long rather than his own enjoyment, and appreciating him all the more for not abandoning her in the moment.
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
