Let me paint a picture for you, I'm feeling like Bob Ross
The force of her storm, finally breaking, crashes through the bond with enough intensity to rip away all the sheltering walls of his own sensation and thought. For one dizzying second, he loses all sense of self, her pleasure drenching everything pretending to still have control. It's such a staggering force that it's all he can do to fight his return from it, impulse begging his lungs to breathe in again, pulse kicking wildly in his veins like his heart considered stumbling into paralysis for a moment and has to make it up now. It's effectively his own body convulsing beneath the weight of it, the feel of it all connected with her a consuming, beautiful thing even when it's his own name that fractures through his mind.
"Gods." he begs, Flora's name right there with them.
The groan that leaves him against her is wrecked. Soaked, his own mind lifts up through the current, thoughts helplessly reverent as every aftershock rolling through her echoes back into him in relentless succession, a phantom orgasm that isn't his own. He feels the trembling in her thighs inside his own muscles, the violent pull of release still wringing through her body while her love and want and stunned greed flood the bond so completely that it leaves him aching with the sheer excess of it.
His grip tightens instinctively. Not to hold her down, but to hold onto something, castaway on this tide and in desperate need of some driftwood. All of it drives straight into the pressure already wound unbearably tight inside his own body. His hips jerk once against the mattress beside the bed before he catches himself hard, breath punching out of him through clenched teeth as his own pressure strains violently under the impact of her unraveling.
His mouth has gone soft and slack against her, flopping against the mattress as he rides the ache of his own edge like a live wire threatening to snap at any second. Fuck, Flora… The thought reaches her frayed and heated through with awe, with satisfaction, with so much love it overwhelms him. I felt all of that. And gods, he wants more. He's trembling where he kneels, cock so tight behind his boxers that it nearly hurts.
"Gods." he begs, Flora's name right there with them.
The groan that leaves him against her is wrecked. Soaked, his own mind lifts up through the current, thoughts helplessly reverent as every aftershock rolling through her echoes back into him in relentless succession, a phantom orgasm that isn't his own. He feels the trembling in her thighs inside his own muscles, the violent pull of release still wringing through her body while her love and want and stunned greed flood the bond so completely that it leaves him aching with the sheer excess of it.
His grip tightens instinctively. Not to hold her down, but to hold onto something, castaway on this tide and in desperate need of some driftwood. All of it drives straight into the pressure already wound unbearably tight inside his own body. His hips jerk once against the mattress beside the bed before he catches himself hard, breath punching out of him through clenched teeth as his own pressure strains violently under the impact of her unraveling.
His mouth has gone soft and slack against her, flopping against the mattress as he rides the ache of his own edge like a live wire threatening to snap at any second. Fuck, Flora… The thought reaches her frayed and heated through with awe, with satisfaction, with so much love it overwhelms him. I felt all of that. And gods, he wants more. He's trembling where he kneels, cock so tight behind his boxers that it nearly hurts.
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
