your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand
If Flora had enough breath for it, she would absolutely inform him that yes, he is teasing, actually, because the way his hand builds the fire inside her only to shift just enough to keep it from devouring her whole feels less like mercy and more like a crime committed with excellent technique. Instead all she manages is a broken little sound that doesn’t help her case at all, toes curling harder against the bed as her fingers clench in his hair, holding him there while her body keeps betraying her in sharper, hotter ways, every carefully measured movement of his hand dragging her closer to the edge and then leaving her there to shake and swear silently at him through the bond.
When his fingers slip beneath the lace of her underwear and into her properly, Flora gasps hard enough that her chin tucks toward her chest, aqua eyes hazy and blown dark as she looks down at the ruin of herself beneath him, at the torn birthday dress, at the spread of blue sequins, at the place where his mouth is busy against her nipple. Heat bands across her cheeks and nose, bright and unmistakable, her lips parted around the quick, shallow breaths she’s sipping in because anything larger seems impossible with the way pleasure is climbing through her body, heavy and slick and greedy. Her hips lift against the movement of his fingers before she can think better of it, seeking him with an urgency that makes her thighs tense and her thoughts scatter, all the clever little pieces of herself knocked loose until there’s barely anything left except Kai and more and a few distant, useless scraps of language floating somewhere behind the roar of want.
Her palm presses harder into his hair, fingers spreading against his scalp as if she can guide him by touch alone, but the bond makes even that feel insufficient when she can simply give him the shape of what she wants without dragging her mouth away from all the broken little breaths he keeps pulling out of her. Use your tongue, she thinks, the words breathless and ragged and entirely lacking in subtlety, while her body stretches beneath him in immediate explanation, back arching, hips shifting, one leg tightening around him as she silently makes it very, very clear that she does not mean for him to keep using it on her nipples. But slowly
When his fingers slip beneath the lace of her underwear and into her properly, Flora gasps hard enough that her chin tucks toward her chest, aqua eyes hazy and blown dark as she looks down at the ruin of herself beneath him, at the torn birthday dress, at the spread of blue sequins, at the place where his mouth is busy against her nipple. Heat bands across her cheeks and nose, bright and unmistakable, her lips parted around the quick, shallow breaths she’s sipping in because anything larger seems impossible with the way pleasure is climbing through her body, heavy and slick and greedy. Her hips lift against the movement of his fingers before she can think better of it, seeking him with an urgency that makes her thighs tense and her thoughts scatter, all the clever little pieces of herself knocked loose until there’s barely anything left except Kai and more and a few distant, useless scraps of language floating somewhere behind the roar of want.
Her palm presses harder into his hair, fingers spreading against his scalp as if she can guide him by touch alone, but the bond makes even that feel insufficient when she can simply give him the shape of what she wants without dragging her mouth away from all the broken little breaths he keeps pulling out of her. Use your tongue, she thinks, the words breathless and ragged and entirely lacking in subtlety, while her body stretches beneath him in immediate explanation, back arching, hips shifting, one leg tightening around him as she silently makes it very, very clear that she does not mean for him to keep using it on her nipples. But slowly
