Let me paint a picture for you, I'm feeling like Bob Ross
It’s a wonder he hasn’t crumbled to charcoal yet with how easily she lights him up at the barest touch. Not that there's anything slight about this. Haloed with celebration and stained with liquor, the flare of it is immediate and consuming.
The small, tortured sound distance pulls from her throat is enough to make him regret speaking at all. He doesn’t make that mistake again, even if a response comes easily to her words. He can show her just how good a thing it is then that he loves her so, and save his breath for better uses. Her mouth finds his again before any more thoughts can spare themselves, and then there's no thinking needed. He settles into the depths of her kiss with no want for anything more, nothing greater in importance or desire beyond her.
Still finding use for his tongue despite no words being brought forth, Kaisel tells her exactly how cherished she is. It's an answer to all the things she's silently murmuring to him, each of them fighting to be heard above the other as lips and breath skate towards something near desperate to be fully understood, unwilling to let each other believe there's any potential for less than everything felt. It drives him mad, the insistent way she talks over him like this, beating him to the punch with every deliberate press of skin.
In response, one of his hands drags up her side, his grip unwilling to loosen even as sequins try to catch on it. It ends with a firm squeeze around her breast, a low groan building in the back of his throat as he trades her bra for his palm to support the weight of it. His other hand flexes deeper where it remains low at her side, fingers pressing into the fabric with unrelenting hunger to feel her.
The small, tortured sound distance pulls from her throat is enough to make him regret speaking at all. He doesn’t make that mistake again, even if a response comes easily to her words. He can show her just how good a thing it is then that he loves her so, and save his breath for better uses. Her mouth finds his again before any more thoughts can spare themselves, and then there's no thinking needed. He settles into the depths of her kiss with no want for anything more, nothing greater in importance or desire beyond her.
Still finding use for his tongue despite no words being brought forth, Kaisel tells her exactly how cherished she is. It's an answer to all the things she's silently murmuring to him, each of them fighting to be heard above the other as lips and breath skate towards something near desperate to be fully understood, unwilling to let each other believe there's any potential for less than everything felt. It drives him mad, the insistent way she talks over him like this, beating him to the punch with every deliberate press of skin.
In response, one of his hands drags up her side, his grip unwilling to loosen even as sequins try to catch on it. It ends with a firm squeeze around her breast, a low groan building in the back of his throat as he trades her bra for his palm to support the weight of it. His other hand flexes deeper where it remains low at her side, fingers pressing into the fabric with unrelenting hunger to feel her.
Kaisel
They don't gotta ask 'cause they know I'm him
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
