flora
The way he cups her face arrests her completely, halting the instinctive spiral of doubt before it can unfurl, and she finds herself held not just by his hands but by the steadiness in his eyes. Kaisel has always known how to anchor her, how to catch the way her thoughts threaten to scatter like startled birds and draw them back into the cage of his focus, and the brush of his thumb across her lips stills the first flicker of protest before it can take shape. She exhales softly instead, surrendering to the certainty in him, letting him finish what he needs to say without interruption.
When he compares it to ice cream, she can't help it; a quiet, breathy laugh slips free, warm and fond, because of course he would frame it that way, of course he would find a way to add sprinkles over something tender and uncertain and make it easier to swallow. She shakes her head gently and presses her palm more firmly against his chest. "I appreciate you telling me how you really feel," she says, quiet but sure, not wanting the easy answer of hell yeah, felt great babe! "It means more to me that I feel safe enough to try something new with you than any single orgasm does." A smile blooms slow and radiant, adoring in the way her lashes lower just slightly. "I've never had that with anyone else."
His kiss quiets the rest of her thoughts the way it always does, as though their mouths meeting is the final piece that clicks everything back into alignment. She feels what he cannot quite articulate, the care beneath the heat, the way he holds her like something both powerful and fragile at once. But when his tone darkens with that appreciative rumble, when he lets the memory of her unravelling colour his voice, she shivers despite herself. Heat blooms low and slow, a warm flush spreading across her skin, and her hips shift against his in an unconscious echo of what he describes. She watches him with that bright, sea-glass look that always carries both mischief and devotion, breath catching faintly as her gaze sinks back into his. "Okay, next fight, you get to pick the type of make-up sex." And if they needed to practice whatever Kai might want to try in the meantime, well, that was perfectly alright with Flora.
When he compares it to ice cream, she can't help it; a quiet, breathy laugh slips free, warm and fond, because of course he would frame it that way, of course he would find a way to add sprinkles over something tender and uncertain and make it easier to swallow. She shakes her head gently and presses her palm more firmly against his chest. "I appreciate you telling me how you really feel," she says, quiet but sure, not wanting the easy answer of hell yeah, felt great babe! "It means more to me that I feel safe enough to try something new with you than any single orgasm does." A smile blooms slow and radiant, adoring in the way her lashes lower just slightly. "I've never had that with anyone else."
His kiss quiets the rest of her thoughts the way it always does, as though their mouths meeting is the final piece that clicks everything back into alignment. She feels what he cannot quite articulate, the care beneath the heat, the way he holds her like something both powerful and fragile at once. But when his tone darkens with that appreciative rumble, when he lets the memory of her unravelling colour his voice, she shivers despite herself. Heat blooms low and slow, a warm flush spreading across her skin, and her hips shift against his in an unconscious echo of what he describes. She watches him with that bright, sea-glass look that always carries both mischief and devotion, breath catching faintly as her gaze sinks back into his. "Okay, next fight, you get to pick the type of make-up sex." And if they needed to practice whatever Kai might want to try in the meantime, well, that was perfectly alright with Flora.
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
