Let me paint a picture for you, I'm feeling like Bob Ross
Pleasure and love move through him with a relentless force, both enormous enough to leave him shaking. He stays collapsed over her, breath still coming rough and uneven into the curve of her neck while the last trembling pulses wring through them both, his body unwilling to surrender even an inch of contact now that it has learned what it means to feel her this completely. Not just the pieces of her scattered by coming apart, but the impossible tenderness unspooling around it all as if the very fabric of her being had been unthreaded and all he's left with is a tangled heap of something golden and shimmering.
The tears that begin, an ordinarily very worrying post orgasm, development only draw a brief and weary glance as his head rolls against her breath and onto her shoulder. All the proof of what they mean is already there, ebbing back and forth between them. In response, his grip around her waist tightens. It's not possessive, not entirely, not like before. Now it's just something stabilizing, needing the reassurance that she’s real and still here beneath him after the sheer force of what they’ve just done to each other. He lifts his head with all the small bits of strength that have eked back and presses clumsy, reverent kisses wherever he can reach, lacking enough coordination to choose properly. Her cheek, her temple, the corner of her mouth, all of them serving to mark her with his answer. A faint laugh bubbles up behind each one, the breathless need to let the excess of everything out existing just as equally in him.
"Hey," he manages at last, though the word almost sounds like it belongs to a different voice, his so wrecked by emotion. Copper eyes finally lift enough to find her fully, his pendant swinging loosely from his neck with the motion, threatening to tap her chin. The edges of the world are wonderfully blurred away by the dark flop of hair hanging down around him, and all he can see is her perfectly framed and flushed and broken open in the best way beneath him.
His smile is as messy as his words, the latter of which has left him as he becomes captivated all over again by the image of her. Through the bond, there’s no hiding it anyway. It's a staggering amount of love that swells inside him. It presses against every thought, every breath, every tireless beat of his heart until he can barely contain it in the shape of himself. That's my line, he complains, and ditto is right there between it all. He leans down to nudge her nose with his before flopping in exhaustion onto the side of the bed nearest her, arm and leg still tangled across her.
Tilted down, but still snuggled close, he can see the slope of her beside him, lit just by what remains on in her room and what floods in from outside. He pulls her hand onto his chest, his own wrapping around it until his fingers can slide up her palm and fit against hers. "I love you more than I know what to do with," he sighs softly, perfectly content with this being his main problem. He has never felt so thoroughly seen, so completely supported, so unwaveringly trusted as to be granted something as open as this, not until now, not until her. It has not just filled the cracks inside him he never knew existed, but it has dismantled and rebuilt portions of him, better than ever before, because of her. "I think this is a good place to start." Wrapped up at her side, basking in the afterglow.
The tears that begin, an ordinarily very worrying post orgasm, development only draw a brief and weary glance as his head rolls against her breath and onto her shoulder. All the proof of what they mean is already there, ebbing back and forth between them. In response, his grip around her waist tightens. It's not possessive, not entirely, not like before. Now it's just something stabilizing, needing the reassurance that she’s real and still here beneath him after the sheer force of what they’ve just done to each other. He lifts his head with all the small bits of strength that have eked back and presses clumsy, reverent kisses wherever he can reach, lacking enough coordination to choose properly. Her cheek, her temple, the corner of her mouth, all of them serving to mark her with his answer. A faint laugh bubbles up behind each one, the breathless need to let the excess of everything out existing just as equally in him.
"Hey," he manages at last, though the word almost sounds like it belongs to a different voice, his so wrecked by emotion. Copper eyes finally lift enough to find her fully, his pendant swinging loosely from his neck with the motion, threatening to tap her chin. The edges of the world are wonderfully blurred away by the dark flop of hair hanging down around him, and all he can see is her perfectly framed and flushed and broken open in the best way beneath him.
His smile is as messy as his words, the latter of which has left him as he becomes captivated all over again by the image of her. Through the bond, there’s no hiding it anyway. It's a staggering amount of love that swells inside him. It presses against every thought, every breath, every tireless beat of his heart until he can barely contain it in the shape of himself. That's my line, he complains, and ditto is right there between it all. He leans down to nudge her nose with his before flopping in exhaustion onto the side of the bed nearest her, arm and leg still tangled across her.
Tilted down, but still snuggled close, he can see the slope of her beside him, lit just by what remains on in her room and what floods in from outside. He pulls her hand onto his chest, his own wrapping around it until his fingers can slide up her palm and fit against hers. "I love you more than I know what to do with," he sighs softly, perfectly content with this being his main problem. He has never felt so thoroughly seen, so completely supported, so unwaveringly trusted as to be granted something as open as this, not until now, not until her. It has not just filled the cracks inside him he never knew existed, but it has dismantled and rebuilt portions of him, better than ever before, because of her. "I think this is a good place to start." Wrapped up at her side, basking in the afterglow.
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
