bottom line, we made it out the first time still in love and half alive
The heat that sparks low in her belly no longer needs to ask permission to be there, no longer is something that screams of warning such that she doesn't even consider tempering it as his hands settle at her hips and draw her in; her own response is immediate, her fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt where it’s tucked into his pants, dragging upward just enough to find skin, her grip there claw-like and unmistakably possessive, as though anchoring him in place rather than letting him choose the distance between them.
"Maybe it would teach them not to berth so close to me," she murmurs against his mouth, her voice threaded through with mischief, the curve of her lips lingering just shy of a smile.
The want to wind her fingers into his hair and pull him closer the way she wants to nearly has her dropping her clothes, but the motion stalls, her head tilting instead as she draws back just enough to look at him, long waves of red sliding over her shoulders and down her back as she studies him with a narrowing, considering gaze. "You’ve already asked me for patience tonight," she says, one brow lifting, "and now you want restraint too?"
There’s a quiet challenge in it, playful but real, and her attention slips past him even as she says it, her gaze drifting over his shoulder toward the darkened stretch of Kaiholo beyond. The market stalls sit mostly abandoned at this hour, shadows pooling between them, benches left empty, alleyways half-swallowed by darkness, the shoreline still close enough to hear, and she considers each of them in turn without the slightest regard for propriety or privacy, the possibilities laid out as plainly as the path beneath her bare feet.
When her eyes return to him, there’s nothing uncertain in them, only that same steady, intent heat, as though wherever he suggests they go next, she’s already decided she isn’t inclined to wait very long once they get there.
"Maybe it would teach them not to berth so close to me," she murmurs against his mouth, her voice threaded through with mischief, the curve of her lips lingering just shy of a smile.
The want to wind her fingers into his hair and pull him closer the way she wants to nearly has her dropping her clothes, but the motion stalls, her head tilting instead as she draws back just enough to look at him, long waves of red sliding over her shoulders and down her back as she studies him with a narrowing, considering gaze. "You’ve already asked me for patience tonight," she says, one brow lifting, "and now you want restraint too?"
There’s a quiet challenge in it, playful but real, and her attention slips past him even as she says it, her gaze drifting over his shoulder toward the darkened stretch of Kaiholo beyond. The market stalls sit mostly abandoned at this hour, shadows pooling between them, benches left empty, alleyways half-swallowed by darkness, the shoreline still close enough to hear, and she considers each of them in turn without the slightest regard for propriety or privacy, the possibilities laid out as plainly as the path beneath her bare feet.
When her eyes return to him, there’s nothing uncertain in them, only that same steady, intent heat, as though wherever he suggests they go next, she’s already decided she isn’t inclined to wait very long once they get there.
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.
