Kaisel
One foot in the ground
One foot in the grave
One foot in the grave
The implication vibrating beneath the sultry offer is enough to give Kaisel the same sort of adrenaline spike mothers receive when their child is in danger and they go full momma bear beast mode. He could have easily bound up on the spot, even with her above him, quickly throwing her over his shoulder and heading to said Sugartide then and there. As it is, her tongue is thoroughly distracting enough that any consideration of pulling away from it, even for a greater reward as the outcome, is unthinkable. The urge lingers though, a rich ruby of building desire casting a shine against every thought and feeling that slips through the bond.
Much like the leaf, the moment Flora is off him, Kaisel is far too aware of the absence. It's not any sort of relief for it, but instead a noticeable loss—the pressure, the heat, the contact where skin had been on skin. Much like oxygen rushing in to feed a low fire the moment a door is opened, the space of her departure only serves to amplify the want she began to stir, and his body reaches out for her with his third arm.
His actual arms are also reaching, hands connecting with hers as he surges upright into her tug, making quick work of reverting back to a vertical state. It's with a sly scoff though that he does, because "I'm quite literally pitching a tent right now. I'd say I'm a camping pro." He grins with the shameless pride of any man who has found a way to make his boner into a point of conversation. Brushing the residual jungle off his ass and back the best he can with one hand, his other reaches back to steady the hammock as he attempts a more measured meeting with it this time.
"Plus, we spent the night out in the Climb, or are we calling that something else besides camping." Maybe an open-air pillow fort, or a sexy lounge. He rolls into the hammock, one arm, and his third arm, reaching out to receive her alongside him. "We should do that again though, whatever we're calling it."
Much like the leaf, the moment Flora is off him, Kaisel is far too aware of the absence. It's not any sort of relief for it, but instead a noticeable loss—the pressure, the heat, the contact where skin had been on skin. Much like oxygen rushing in to feed a low fire the moment a door is opened, the space of her departure only serves to amplify the want she began to stir, and his body reaches out for her with his third arm.
His actual arms are also reaching, hands connecting with hers as he surges upright into her tug, making quick work of reverting back to a vertical state. It's with a sly scoff though that he does, because "I'm quite literally pitching a tent right now. I'd say I'm a camping pro." He grins with the shameless pride of any man who has found a way to make his boner into a point of conversation. Brushing the residual jungle off his ass and back the best he can with one hand, his other reaches back to steady the hammock as he attempts a more measured meeting with it this time.
"Plus, we spent the night out in the Climb, or are we calling that something else besides camping." Maybe an open-air pillow fort, or a sexy lounge. He rolls into the hammock, one arm, and his third arm, reaching out to receive her alongside him. "We should do that again though, whatever we're calling it."
It's not the devil at your door
It's just your shadow on the floor
It's just your shadow on the floor
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
