Kaisel
One foot in the ground
One foot in the grave
One foot in the grave
A chuckle escapes him with zero apology at the reprimand, entirely too smug to allow the scold to land as anything other than attractive. The stressors she puts on his name that make it tilt just so off her tongue, the shove against his shoulder that tempts him to capture her hand, the smile she does her best to hide and the unabashed glimpse of it through the bond... it's all decidedly hot.
He considers asking her about gummy worm sales so they can scamper off to the sugartide together, but by the time that idea has fully formed, gravity has already claimed him among the hammock. In the next moment, far too short of one to consider leaving a hammock, which is just as difficult as entering one, Flora sinks in against him and a bit more of the world is right again. His arm slides around her side, helping draw her to him as she nestles in, the press of her ass a perfect campsite against the tent of his pants.
He's forced to bite down on a groan that threatens escape as she wiggles herself into a better position. The splay of her leg against his hip allows him more room to tilt up into her, which he does without hesitation, his palm pressing against her naval to hold her steady against the push of him. "You're nothing if not generous," he murmurs into her neck, setting a slow kiss to her shoulder. "The pillows are non-negotiable, I thought," he muses, thinking back on the night more clearly as well, and importantly, how comfortable sleeping there had managed to be. "Or are you saying, it's only camping if it's torture?" In which case, they must be camping right now.
Friction builds by degrees as her leg shifts, and his hand extends as far as it can manage, trying to capture her thigh an hold it as she turns her face into him. Don't he warns, the deep colors of desire from before sparking brighter through the bond, become more vibrant as it doubles over itself. Her lips drown out any other thought, his hand going limp for the moment against her, too concerned with trying to capture her tongue from the midst of the much more proper and gentle kiss.
Her mind is relentless even if her mouth isn't, and this curls his fingers back tightly against her thigh. We're not gonna make it back to the sugartide if you keep teasing.
He considers asking her about gummy worm sales so they can scamper off to the sugartide together, but by the time that idea has fully formed, gravity has already claimed him among the hammock. In the next moment, far too short of one to consider leaving a hammock, which is just as difficult as entering one, Flora sinks in against him and a bit more of the world is right again. His arm slides around her side, helping draw her to him as she nestles in, the press of her ass a perfect campsite against the tent of his pants.
He's forced to bite down on a groan that threatens escape as she wiggles herself into a better position. The splay of her leg against his hip allows him more room to tilt up into her, which he does without hesitation, his palm pressing against her naval to hold her steady against the push of him. "You're nothing if not generous," he murmurs into her neck, setting a slow kiss to her shoulder. "The pillows are non-negotiable, I thought," he muses, thinking back on the night more clearly as well, and importantly, how comfortable sleeping there had managed to be. "Or are you saying, it's only camping if it's torture?" In which case, they must be camping right now.
Friction builds by degrees as her leg shifts, and his hand extends as far as it can manage, trying to capture her thigh an hold it as she turns her face into him. Don't he warns, the deep colors of desire from before sparking brighter through the bond, become more vibrant as it doubles over itself. Her lips drown out any other thought, his hand going limp for the moment against her, too concerned with trying to capture her tongue from the midst of the much more proper and gentle kiss.
Her mind is relentless even if her mouth isn't, and this curls his fingers back tightly against her thigh. We're not gonna make it back to the sugartide if you keep teasing.
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
