your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand
It shouldn’t work this way, Flora thinks distantly, or maybe doesn’t think so much as has the awareness flash somewhere behind her eyes in a bright, useless burst, because pleasure is supposed to spend itself as it moves; it's supposed to lose heat somewhere along the line like a drink going lukewarm or sunlight fading off skin, but whatever this is between them has apparently taken one look at the laws of thermodynamics and decided they were written by virgins and cowards. Every sensation ricochets back and forth through the bond and comes back stronger, his pleasure striking hers, hers answering his, his need pouring into the places where she’s already open and molten until the whole thing builds on itself with no mercy and no ceiling, turning each roll of his hips, each broken breath, each hard pulse of want into something doubled, tripled, made new before she can survive the last wave of it.
When he gathers her the way he wants her, impatient and certain and rough with need, Flora gives herself over to it instantly, not because she has no choice but because every part of her loves that this is what she does to him, that the goofy, ridiculous, golden-hearted man who made her a memory-globe full of everyone’s love and wore boxers with her name on them is also the man who can lose patience like this because he wants her too badly to be neat about it. The heat of that thought detonates low in her belly, dragging a moan from her lips and she lets herself be arranged, lets her body answer the demand of his with immediate, shameless trust, her legs lifting where he puts them, her hips tilting higher, her fingers clawing at whatever part of him she can reach.
The first thrust at the new angle punches the breath clean out of her, and the moan that follows is loud, reckless, and absolutely not designed with anyone else sleeping under this roof in mind. Her toes curl hard with the force of it, thighs tensing, back arching as the deeper press of him lights her up from the inside in one brutal, exquisite sweep, her whole body tightening around the feeling as if she can hold it in place and still somehow demand more. "Fuck—Kai," she gasps, the syllables breaking unevenly as her cheek turns against him where he’s close, her breath coming fast and hot, her thoughts spilling through the bond in a tangled rush; none of it polished, none of it coy, all of it bright with the helpless greed of how good it feels to be taken apart by the person who knows exactly how to put her back together after.
His hand at her throat makes her pulse stutter beneath his palm, the reaction immediate and visible in the lift of her chin and the sharp catch of her breath, but there’s no fear in it, no retreat, only the sudden concentrated intensity of being held somewhere tender and dangerous by someone she trusts implicitly. Even through the scattered heat of her thoughts she remembers the uncertainty from before, the careful edge of it, and she sends reassurance through the bond before words can get tangled in her mouth, a warm, certain pulse of I want this, I trust you wrapped around the flutter of her heartbeat beneath his fingers. Her hand slides up to cover his for a moment, not to pull it away, not to stop him, but to press there lightly, to make sure he feels the shape of her permission as clearly as he feels everything else, her aqua eyes dark and glazed as she looks up at him with flushed cheeks and parted lips, ruined and radiant and entirely his in a way that makes her body tremble again before the next wave even reaches her.
When he gathers her the way he wants her, impatient and certain and rough with need, Flora gives herself over to it instantly, not because she has no choice but because every part of her loves that this is what she does to him, that the goofy, ridiculous, golden-hearted man who made her a memory-globe full of everyone’s love and wore boxers with her name on them is also the man who can lose patience like this because he wants her too badly to be neat about it. The heat of that thought detonates low in her belly, dragging a moan from her lips and she lets herself be arranged, lets her body answer the demand of his with immediate, shameless trust, her legs lifting where he puts them, her hips tilting higher, her fingers clawing at whatever part of him she can reach.
The first thrust at the new angle punches the breath clean out of her, and the moan that follows is loud, reckless, and absolutely not designed with anyone else sleeping under this roof in mind. Her toes curl hard with the force of it, thighs tensing, back arching as the deeper press of him lights her up from the inside in one brutal, exquisite sweep, her whole body tightening around the feeling as if she can hold it in place and still somehow demand more. "Fuck—Kai," she gasps, the syllables breaking unevenly as her cheek turns against him where he’s close, her breath coming fast and hot, her thoughts spilling through the bond in a tangled rush; none of it polished, none of it coy, all of it bright with the helpless greed of how good it feels to be taken apart by the person who knows exactly how to put her back together after.
His hand at her throat makes her pulse stutter beneath his palm, the reaction immediate and visible in the lift of her chin and the sharp catch of her breath, but there’s no fear in it, no retreat, only the sudden concentrated intensity of being held somewhere tender and dangerous by someone she trusts implicitly. Even through the scattered heat of her thoughts she remembers the uncertainty from before, the careful edge of it, and she sends reassurance through the bond before words can get tangled in her mouth, a warm, certain pulse of I want this, I trust you wrapped around the flutter of her heartbeat beneath his fingers. Her hand slides up to cover his for a moment, not to pull it away, not to stop him, but to press there lightly, to make sure he feels the shape of her permission as clearly as he feels everything else, her aqua eyes dark and glazed as she looks up at him with flushed cheeks and parted lips, ruined and radiant and entirely his in a way that makes her body tremble again before the next wave even reaches her.
