your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand
The grit in Kaisel’s voice sends a full-body tremble through Flora, the force of it rolling out from her core and sinking bone-deep as she exhales sharply, lips parting around a breath that is already too thin for the amount of want being poured into it. Good, she almost says, or maybe only thinks, because the difference barely matters now, not when his desire is burning through the bond and turning every already-sensitive part of her molten again, her body answering his before she can pretend to have any composure left. The fact that he has enough sense to get rid of the last layer between them now, instead of forcing them to fumble it off later earns a hot little flare of greedy appreciation from her, bright and immediate, and when she feels the hard press of him against her leg her thighs spread without hesitation.
She looks up at him with flushed cheeks and aqua eyes gone dark, and nothing—nothing—feels as good or as right as the weight of him over her, the warmth of his body covering hers, the breathless relief of being pressed into the bed by the one person she wants with this much ridiculous, inconvenient, soul-deep certainty. Her hands move to him immediately, one arm curling around his shoulders so her palm can flatten against the Lichtenberg scarring there, fingers spreading across the marked skin like she can hold the storm of him in place, while the other dives into his hair, gripping hard enough to make her own need obvious even without the bond betraying every last flicker of it. She should be spent, honestly, should be dramatically asking for water or a medal or maybe a priest, and yet the heat in her is already rising again, stoked by the raw ache of his arousal flooding into her until wanting him feels less like a choice than a tide she has absolutely no interest in surviving.
Not quite, she thinks back, the words threaded with breathless mischief and unmistakable need, her hips shifting beneath the firm hold of his arm even though the way he has her caught makes it almost impossible to move, almost impossible to breathe, almost impossible to do anything except feel him everywhere. Flora manages anyway, angling herself with small, impatient movements until the pressure between her thighs is exactly where she wants it, and as his mouth comes down to hers she wraps her legs around his waist, drawing him closer with a slow, deliberate pull that turns the next breath into something shattered.
She tries to keep kissing him through it, but the first deep press of him into her tears a ragged moan from her mouth and forces her lips to part against his, her head tipping back as the stretch and fullness steal whatever was left of her ability to form thoughts into words. It feels exquisite from inside her own body, hot and overwhelming and so intensely right that her fingers clamp harder against him, but feeling it from him too—feeling the heat, the pressure, the way his own pleasure answers hers through the bond—scatters her thoughts so completely that for a few seconds there is no room for language at all. Her fingertips press hungrily into his scarred shoulder, her grip in his hair tightening as her hips lift from the bed with a shaky effort from her core, chasing the contact, taking him in with a breathless, trembling greed that pours through the bond in waves of yes and more and gods, Kai, all of it too bright and too hot and too much to keep contained.
She looks up at him with flushed cheeks and aqua eyes gone dark, and nothing—nothing—feels as good or as right as the weight of him over her, the warmth of his body covering hers, the breathless relief of being pressed into the bed by the one person she wants with this much ridiculous, inconvenient, soul-deep certainty. Her hands move to him immediately, one arm curling around his shoulders so her palm can flatten against the Lichtenberg scarring there, fingers spreading across the marked skin like she can hold the storm of him in place, while the other dives into his hair, gripping hard enough to make her own need obvious even without the bond betraying every last flicker of it. She should be spent, honestly, should be dramatically asking for water or a medal or maybe a priest, and yet the heat in her is already rising again, stoked by the raw ache of his arousal flooding into her until wanting him feels less like a choice than a tide she has absolutely no interest in surviving.
Not quite, she thinks back, the words threaded with breathless mischief and unmistakable need, her hips shifting beneath the firm hold of his arm even though the way he has her caught makes it almost impossible to move, almost impossible to breathe, almost impossible to do anything except feel him everywhere. Flora manages anyway, angling herself with small, impatient movements until the pressure between her thighs is exactly where she wants it, and as his mouth comes down to hers she wraps her legs around his waist, drawing him closer with a slow, deliberate pull that turns the next breath into something shattered.
She tries to keep kissing him through it, but the first deep press of him into her tears a ragged moan from her mouth and forces her lips to part against his, her head tipping back as the stretch and fullness steal whatever was left of her ability to form thoughts into words. It feels exquisite from inside her own body, hot and overwhelming and so intensely right that her fingers clamp harder against him, but feeling it from him too—feeling the heat, the pressure, the way his own pleasure answers hers through the bond—scatters her thoughts so completely that for a few seconds there is no room for language at all. Her fingertips press hungrily into his scarred shoulder, her grip in his hair tightening as her hips lift from the bed with a shaky effort from her core, chasing the contact, taking him in with a breathless, trembling greed that pours through the bond in waves of yes and more and gods, Kai, all of it too bright and too hot and too much to keep contained.
