I'll push through my doubt, don't say goodbye
The crack of his palm on her ass is both satisfaction and alarm, victory and warning, but that double-edged hand is so worth it when her squeal follows behind it like thunder following lightning. Or, it had been worth it, when he thought he’d get away with it.
The sudden barrier of what had been an open door is something he nearly collides with in his haste to retreat from the sharpening of his name, which is never a good sign. His hands fling up, bracing with a thud against the closed door that reverberates up the frame and through his arms. Although he knows better, he dares a glance back over his shoulder, although wilderness training has taught him never to make eye contact with wild animals. It invites a challenge, especially with predators. You should also not turn your back; otherwise, you’re at a disadvantage (which also means you roll twice and take the lower roll) and an easier target to strike a killing blow to.
What he sees when his eyes find her isn’t Flora anymore, but something changed. Gone is the dawnlit temptress and understanding lover, replaced instead with an image of consequence. He flips over, pressing his back to the door instead, one hand fumbling for the door handle. ”What if she needs to scream!?” he demands back, mouth popping open slightly, horrified in multiple fronts. ”How else would you know she’s hungry??” He also screams when he’s been without her tits too long, so he fully empathizes with their unborn child and her set of lungs.
His features warm from aghast to amused, escape momentarily forgotten for the sake of strutting. ”Yeah I am,” he returns, utterly smug. ”The 1% is from before you met me,” and surely the math checks out on that, if only because he’d like it to.
The sudden barrier of what had been an open door is something he nearly collides with in his haste to retreat from the sharpening of his name, which is never a good sign. His hands fling up, bracing with a thud against the closed door that reverberates up the frame and through his arms. Although he knows better, he dares a glance back over his shoulder, although wilderness training has taught him never to make eye contact with wild animals. It invites a challenge, especially with predators. You should also not turn your back; otherwise, you’re at a disadvantage (which also means you roll twice and take the lower roll) and an easier target to strike a killing blow to.
What he sees when his eyes find her isn’t Flora anymore, but something changed. Gone is the dawnlit temptress and understanding lover, replaced instead with an image of consequence. He flips over, pressing his back to the door instead, one hand fumbling for the door handle. ”What if she needs to scream!?” he demands back, mouth popping open slightly, horrified in multiple fronts. ”How else would you know she’s hungry??” He also screams when he’s been without her tits too long, so he fully empathizes with their unborn child and her set of lungs.
His features warm from aghast to amused, escape momentarily forgotten for the sake of strutting. ”Yeah I am,” he returns, utterly smug. ”The 1% is from before you met me,” and surely the math checks out on that, if only because he’d like it to.
I will love you 'til the lights go out
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
