your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand
The instant the pressure leaves Flora’s throat and breath rushes back into her, everything inside her flares as if the air itself is tinder, oxygen pouring into the blaze Kaisel has built until the fire doesn’t simply burn brighter, it consumes whatever fragile structure of thought she had left. Her lungs drag in one full, ragged breath and the orgasm detonates through her with it, violent and luminous and so much larger than her body that for a few suspended seconds she loses all awareness of where her limbs are, where the bed begins, where Kaisel’s heat ends and hers answers back. Her legs clench around him, fingernails digging hard into his shoulder, her body locking around the force of it as if holding on is the only way to survive the thing they’ve made together.
There is no clean edge to her anymore, no neat division between her pleasure and his, only them, tangled and alight and spilling through the bond in a way that feels too intimate for language and too physical to be anything as flimsy as thought. The release rolls through her in hard, shattering pulses, each one dragging another broken sound from her lips now that she has breath enough to make them, little whimpers and gasps spilling out between hurried inhales as her body trembles beneath the enormity of it. Her head turns slackly into his hair, mouth parted, breath hot and uneven as she pants there, utterly undone, every aftershock making her flinch and shiver while the bond keeps carrying the impossible excess of sensation back and forth until even the fading edges feel sharp enough to make her toes curl again.
By degrees, her hands loosen from the desperate grip she has on him, her fingers uncurling just enough that she’s no longer holding on like she’s being pulled under, though she doesn’t move away, doesn’t give up even an inch of contact. She stays wrapped around him, shaken and emptied out by the force of what’s just torn through her, and yet somehow filled to the point of overflowing by the love that rushes in behind it, huge and warm and almost unbearable in its sweetness. A tear slips from the corner of one eye, then another, not from hurt, not from sadness, but because there’s nowhere else for all of it to go, because her body has already spent itself and her heart apparently still has the energy to keep spilling over.
"I love you so much," she says, though the words don’t come out entirely one way or the other; half of them tremble from her mouth into his hair, rough and breathless and wrecked, while the rest pour through the bond in a bright, unguarded rush, carrying everything her voice can’t manage, every shattered piece of want and gratitude and devotion still ringing through her.
There is no clean edge to her anymore, no neat division between her pleasure and his, only them, tangled and alight and spilling through the bond in a way that feels too intimate for language and too physical to be anything as flimsy as thought. The release rolls through her in hard, shattering pulses, each one dragging another broken sound from her lips now that she has breath enough to make them, little whimpers and gasps spilling out between hurried inhales as her body trembles beneath the enormity of it. Her head turns slackly into his hair, mouth parted, breath hot and uneven as she pants there, utterly undone, every aftershock making her flinch and shiver while the bond keeps carrying the impossible excess of sensation back and forth until even the fading edges feel sharp enough to make her toes curl again.
By degrees, her hands loosen from the desperate grip she has on him, her fingers uncurling just enough that she’s no longer holding on like she’s being pulled under, though she doesn’t move away, doesn’t give up even an inch of contact. She stays wrapped around him, shaken and emptied out by the force of what’s just torn through her, and yet somehow filled to the point of overflowing by the love that rushes in behind it, huge and warm and almost unbearable in its sweetness. A tear slips from the corner of one eye, then another, not from hurt, not from sadness, but because there’s nowhere else for all of it to go, because her body has already spent itself and her heart apparently still has the energy to keep spilling over.
"I love you so much," she says, though the words don’t come out entirely one way or the other; half of them tremble from her mouth into his hair, rough and breathless and wrecked, while the rest pour through the bond in a bright, unguarded rush, carrying everything her voice can’t manage, every shattered piece of want and gratitude and devotion still ringing through her.
