northern lights, neon skies, just you and I

Need a hundred lifetimes kinda love

It's the way she grabs back at him that'll always dissolve the rest of the world, leaving just her, just them. With her surrounding him, he does not want for anything more, unless it's her—chasing after more of her mouth, greedy for more of those soft noises, and always reaching for more of her warmth to draw around him. It sinks in now, deliberate with her care, settling fuzzy and bright in his chest. That this moment can be reshaped into something not just memorable, but momentous with such love, that sends him tumbling over the edge without a second thought, grounded only by breath.

Tipping into the reassuring thread of her fingers in his hair, a defense against the distance that vision demands, some of the kitchenette hums back into place. Namely, the sweet smell of the melting chocolate, overpowering in its proximity, and rich with the promise of cocoa soon at hand. Withdrawing from the crook of her cheek as she speaks, he can't keep back the widening span of his smile that streaks across in response. "Hardly see why that matters," he chuckles with a sly curl to the low sound. "I've seen you do some of your best work on your knees. Haven't steered me wrong yet on them." The tease is aimed at the tension she tries to bury, but the firm squeeze of his hands against the outside of her thighs is intentional with the pulse of strength. He echoes it with a press of his lips into the sides of her cheeks, forcing them in with an obnoxious "mwah!" sound effect before he pulls away.

His eyes follow hers to the nearly melted chocolate and back, though while her expression curls into something devious, his lifts with clear wariness. I'm not that fast he's about to choke out with full offense, but seems she's got something else finishing on her mind. "My present?" he grins, bewilderment quickly breaking into a giddy impatience. "Deal," he says without hesitation, hands rising beneath her arms to help her off the counter and back to her feet, careful to watch her inevitable retreat and swat his hand after an ass cheek in farewell.

Kaisel

I could say forever, but forever ain't long enough

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

The low, sly curl of his voice sends a warm rush straight through her, the kind that blooms in her belly and rises fast enough to steal the edge of her breath, and instead of answering it with her mouth the way her body immediately wants to, Flora swats at his shoulder with theatrical indignation, her tone pitched just high enough to make it clear she is laughing even as she scolds him. "Kaisel" she says, dragging out his name in mock reprimand, because if she lets herself linger there for even a second longer she knows she will fold right back into him and forget entirely about the plan she has been carefully sitting on.

She pivots away as he helps her down, already anticipating the familiar swat and shifting her hips with playful exaggeration as she goes, flashing him a grin over her shoulder that promises far more than it explains before she disappears down the short hallway toward the bedroom. By the time she reaches the bedroom her hands are already trembling, not with fear but with anticipation, with the electric certainty that this moment belongs to them if only because of how much it took—from both of them—to get here. She sheds her clothes without ceremony, fabric pooling at her feet as she reaches for the red lace she bought with Kaisel in mind, drawing it on slowly and carefully, letting the silk trace symmetrical lines all over her body. The colour is vivid against her skin, a deep, decadent red with delicate floral shapes stitched over her chest catching faintly as she breathes. There's a subtle sweetness clinging to the air and to her fingers as she adjusts the edible lace until it sits just right, a magic woven into the material such that only saliva would be able to melt the fabric.

She pauses in front of the mirror despite herself, the moment stretching as she takes in the full picture, the way the lace frames her curves, the way the silk straps cross her hips, the way the faint scent of strawberry blooms with every movement. Her gaze drifts, unbidden, to the pale scars along her lower belly, the faint lines along her ribs, the way her skin is still lighter than it will be later in the year, and for a heartbeat doubt flutters sharp and familiar in her chest. She inhales slowly, grounding herself in the knowledge that Kaisel has never once looked at her with anything but desire and reverence, that he has always met her exactly where she is, and that thought steadies her enough to lift her chin and let the moment belong to her again even if she's now built it up to something far larger than it has any real right to be in her mind. Reaching for a small rectangular box wrapped in matching red lace, she curls her fingers around it, the texture soft against her palm, before slipping back into the hallway on bare feet.

She moves quietly, the ship humming faintly around her, and when she reaches the kitchenette she does not announce herself, choosing instead to lean into the doorway and let the sight speak first. She holds herself just so, lengthening her posture, shoulders back, the red lace contoured against her skin, the silk and floral patterns catching the light as she shifts her weight, the sweetness of the edible fabric lingering subtly in the air between them. There is a flicker of nerves she cannot quite suppress, her confidence tempered by vulnerability, and she bites gently at the inside of her lip as she tilts her head, watching him through lashes that refuse to stay steady.

Extending the gift toward him, the lace-wrapped box cradled in her hands like something precious, she lifts her brows a fraction and lets a crooked, intimate smile curl against her lips as she purrs, "I wrapped it myself."

and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Need a hundred lifetimes kinda love

The emphasis of his name is a risk he's more than willing to take, although sometimes it is a gamble as to what depth of retaliation he might get, not that Flora could ever be fairly accused of escalating something disproportionately. This one though, it's the sort that lingers well after she's sashayed her way out of range and view, causing him to shake his head as the smile keeps tugging into place with the fresh memory.

While Flora is contemplating scars and tans, Kaisel is blissfully replicating chocolate perfection. Two fresh mugs are filled with the piping-hot melted chocolate and quickly warmed milk, steam rising in a rapid squiggle of warning. The mugs are the adorably matching set that has a ceramic gap between them, which forms a completed heart when they're pushed together juuuuust right, which they presently are. He then piles on the whipped cream, corkscrewing it up into a puffy mountain that he interrupts every so often to layer with fudge drizzle and sprinkle dust. The finishing touch is the candy cane stir stick he sinks into each one, which is just about when he catches some bright presence in his peripheral.

He glances over from his exaggerated lean over the counter, adding a finishing touch to the mugs but not wanting to bump the presentation. The moment he sees her, he freezes, the extended pose held unexpectedly, his jaw the only thing in motion as it pops open. It's only when she begins to come closer that he finds motor function again and straightens out, gaze marking every stride and the shifting of the bright red fabric barely holding her in behind it.

His expression remains firmly in the range of reverent awe, but as she extends the lace-wrapped box toward him, it shifts into something warmer and fuller. There's no hungry urgency or uncertain fumbling, instead he's wholly claimed by the deep affection he has for her. It's there in the shine of his gaze which sweeps across her, in the smile that's undeniable when she's near, and the way his pulse quickens with a flush of appreciation that she's done this, for him. The box barely registers for the time being, not when she's wholly captivated him, so he doesn't take it yet. "I see that," he grins, and with a sure and fluid maneuver, his hands sweep around her offered wrist and against her waist.

He draws her in against him in one smooth motion, removing the remaining distance. Then he steps, turning her with him, momentum carrying them across the floor as he dips her low in an effortless sweep. It’s careful despite the decisiveness of it, one arm solid at her back, the other sliding down her arm and curling beneath her shoulders. For a heartbeat he just holds her there, face lingering near her shoulder, her collarbone, breath stuttering as the faint sweetness of strawberry settles fully into his senses. "Gods," he murmurs, the word slipping out on a breath that sounds stolen. His nose brushes lightly against her, unhurried and intimate as it drags across the fine layer of lace that keeps him from her skin. A smile curves wide and helpless against the red pattern as he whispers, “You smell…delicious.”

Kaisel

I could say forever, but forever ain't long enough

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

Flora has to bite at the inside of her cheek the moment she sees Kai bent so intently over the counter, shoulders hunched with concentration as he treats the construction of their hot chocolate like a sacred rite rather than a simple comfort, and the sight sends a warm, helpless fondness blooming through her that she almost resents for how easily it arrives. There is something about the way he meets even the smallest tasks with that same careful devotion that makes her chest ache in the best possible way, because it feels like proof that this is simply who he is, that the tenderness is not reserved for grand gestures but woven quietly into everything he does.

When he finally turns and their eyes meet, she makes a conscious effort to keep herself composed, to hold onto the coy, deliberate confidence she has dressed herself in, because it is far too easy to collapse into laughter and open affection around him, and right now at least she wants to stay here in the charged, shimmering space between anticipation and touch. The way his jaw drops when he takes her in rewards that effort instantly, a flush of confidence streaking through her that feels almost dizzying in its intensity, and when he reaches for her she does not hesitate or stiffen but flows into his arms. The warmth of his scarf and sweater presses against her bare skin, soft and comforting, and the contrast makes her keenly aware of how little she's decorated herself.

His hand settles at her waist, firm and sure, and the sensation makes her breath catch as she feels the lace slip beneath his palm, the delicate fabric shifting against her skin in a way that sends a shiver trailing up her spine. She feels suddenly small and precious in his hold, not diminished but cherished, the kind of fragile that invites care rather than caution, and when he draws her down into that smooth, effortless dip she lets herself trust him completely, body yielding without thought as his arm supports her back and his presence surrounds her. With his face near her shoulder, breath warm and uneven against her skin, she knows he will hear her smile before he ever sees it as she murmurs, "I taste even better." The words are low and playful and full of promise as she further arches herself into him as if there was no amount of space or shape he could make that she wouldn't fit herself into.

She tilts her head just enough that the pom-pom of her hat brushes her shoulder, because of course she never took it off, and the absurdity of that detail threaded through the intimacy makes the moment feel achingly, perfectly theirs; a blend of heat and humour and affection that leaves her wanting to stay right here, suspended between his hands and his breath, for as long as he will keep her. "Though maybe not as good as what you've made," Flora adds, glancing at the mugs of hot chocolate before turning back into him with a little shrug. A pity the store had only sold the conventional flavours of edible underwear. "You'll have to be the judge."

and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Need a hundred lifetimes kinda love

He loses track of the moment. Time tends to mean so little whenever he's got her in his arms, somehow slowing into the space between heartbeats and working towards the forever they once tried to claim, and other times tumbling far too fast that he finds himself empty of her too soon. Impossibly, sometimes it's both at once. He holds her firm and steady through the moment, however long it is, wholly transfixed as he marvels at everything she is and that all of that is here in his hands. Cold pricks sharply at the edges where the warmth of her skin meets his sweater, seemingly jealous of the heat that conjures so easily between them. A whispered conversation of contact begins as the lace brushes along the pair of them in response to her arch, strawberries seeming to be the topic. He can feel the supple way her trust settles in his grip, and in response his fingers curl tighter, promising to hold her steady through shipwrecks and lace alike.

The hat, ridiculous and perfect as the pom-poms bob softly at the edge of his vision, is a more weighty I love you than any they've ever spoken. As grand and dramatic as they both can be, it's the little things that linger most, so small that they nestle into cracks inside him he never knew about until she's made them whole again. Her words drift low and playful, and the sound of her smile in them makes his own deepen immediately. A soft, helpless laugh huffs out of him as his nose brushes her shoulder again, too awed to hold in the swell that builds in his chest. “Of that,” he murmurs, voice warm and certain against her collarbone, “I have absolutely no doubt.”

Reluctantly, he pulls her up from the dip, hands never leaving her as he guides her upright. His gaze flicks sideways toward the counter and the mugs sit there, arranged in their heart formation, steam still rising even if the chill is already working them into something sippable. He squints at them, then back at her, lips quirking as if she's made a joke and not a comparison. “There’s no contest there, Ro,” he scoffs. “You win. You always will.” Though, she'll have to taste test them and let him know. Might offer her some warmth before he can manage to again.

His attention glides back to her, one hand sliding back up to her palm and the package she tucked away there. His thumb brushes over the bottom of her wrist as he finally accepts the lace-wrapped box, leaning in with a kiss in exchange. The claim is unhurried and affectionate, lingering like a promise, which then deepens for a moment as his hand rises to her cheek, box pressed there like an afterthought, suddenly too captured by her mouth to abide by his original plan. He does sigh into a release though, pulling back with bright excitement sparking up the amber of his eyes. “Okay,” he grins, giving the box a gentle shake near his ear, the temptation of the surprise rising above the allure of her curves for the time being now. “So what’s this?” he wonders, fingers beginning to tug at the lace and wrapping.

Kaisel

I could say forever, but forever ain't long enough

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

The low, rough warmth in Kai's voice curls through her like a living thing, the sound vibrating straight down her spine and blooming hot and immediate in her belly, and for a breathless moment she feels as though she might simply dissolve into him where she stands. It is not just desire—though that hums loud and insistent beneath her skin—but the way his certainty wraps around her, the way every word sounds like an anchor and an invitation all at once, and it makes her want to lean into him until there is no seam left between where she ends and he begins.

When he trades the box for a kiss with that almost playful decisiveness, Flora rises instinctively onto her toes, blooming up toward him as though her body already knows exactly how to meet his, and the kiss deepens in a way that has her hands sliding deeper into his hair without conscious thought. She presses herself against him, lace and warmth and heartbeat all lining up, and the sensation sends another wave of heat rolling through her, desire threading seamlessly into happiness until she can no longer tell where one ends and the other begins. This is the moment they talked about in half-jokes and soft promises months ago, the night that was supposed to be magic, and even with splintered wood and ruined cocoa and chaos still ringing faintly through the ship, she feels only the rightness of being here with him, of having weathered it together and come out laughing and breathless and wanting more at the end.

When he pulls back just enough to shake the box, the faint sound of something sliding inside makes her breath hitch, and as he unwraps it her weight settles back onto her heels, nerves creeping in at the edges now that the reveal is imminent. The gold catches the light softly as it emerges, the Torchline-style chain warm and familiar in its design, the slightly larger link adorned with delicate golden flowers, and she watches his face with an intensity that makes her chest tighten. She swallows, suddenly aware of her own heartbeat again, and when she speaks her voice is gentle and careful, as though she is laying something fragile into his hands.

"It’s to keep you safe," she says softly, the words landing with more meaning than she can quite contain, and she shrugs a little, glancing down toward her toes as uncertainty flickers across her expression. "I know that if anything really happened to you my parents could bring you back, and I know there are stronger armours out there that block more than this will," she adds, the practical truths tumbling out because she cannot stop herself from qualifying what she has given him. Her teeth catch nervously at the inside of her cheek before she looks back up at him, eyes bright and earnest, and finishes in a quieter voice, "But this one would always protect you."

The admission hangs there between them, the unspoken meaning threaded through every word, because this is not just about magic or metal or strength, but about constancy and presence and the way she feels about him. It is about being there even when others are stronger, about protection that does not flicker on and off but simply is, steady and enduring, the way she intends to be with him no matter what storms or starwhales or shipwrecks they might face together.

---

Kai has received

Flower Charm | A Type 1 golden flower charm necklace that always blocks magic damage at mastered level.

and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Need a hundred lifetimes kinda love

He glances up once from the unwrapping to the anxious perch of her, the sea glass of her eyes so focused it could start a fire if she holds it steady too long, of that he's certain. It only doubles his curiosity for what's inside, quickening how he pulls away the exterior wrapping and then the lid, too eager now for ceremony. He peers in once it's exposed, blocking her view momentarily as his eyes meet the gleam of the golden flower.

The rush of her words spills around him like point where tide meets beach, felt but not overwhelming. They sink in after the fact, too focused now on lifting the flower charm free, the nice chain trailing behind it like a vine. Quiet admiration has dawned upon his features, deepening with the backing of her explanation. His gaze meets her through the space between the chain as he holds it up.

She's fidgeting like she's just passed him a note asking him to check yes or no about whether or not he likes her. The absurd image of her shy, over this, cracks a tender smile through the silent appreciation of what she's made for him. "This is the best!" he crows sudden and loud, the trance of the gleaming gold broken. He tugs it up to his neck, hands working the clasp until it's securely placed around him. He dips his chin, glancing down at the flower that settles on his chest. "Now I've got a part of you with me, always." It's a perfect marker of her, and it wouldn't matter if it did everything she said it would—that she gave it up like a piece of her being offered to him, an image of her for him to always hold and cherish, is all he could ever want.

That is does have the effects she claims, is an emboldening prospect for someone who already dives into life face first. "My protector," he growls out with intentional effect, swooping in on her shyness like he could devour it in one bite as his hands find their seat at her hips and tug her into the step he's already taking towards her. He means it, though, because he's never had someone looking out for him the way she is. Someone that values more than just his safety, and offers that in ways that don't stifle him. He tilts like he's going in for a kiss, but swerves and presses his adoration into her neck with a series of kisses and drag of teeth. "Thank you," he says softer as he slides closer to her ear, fingers tightening against the lace, quietly testing the give. "I love it."

Kaisel

I could say forever, but forever ain't long enough

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

As Kai lifts the chain and grows uncharacteristically quiet, Flora’s thoughts immediately begin to run ahead of her, tripping over themselves with all the other possibilities she might have chosen instead; a weapon that would have looked impressive in his hands, a stronger piece of armour with sharper edges and louder promises, something dramatic and unmistakably powerful, or even something wildly impractical and extravagant that would have made everyone else stare. Could she even have found him his own dragon? The spiral tightens quickly, doubt threading through her chest as she watches his face for any hint of disappointment, and then his sudden, delighted cry cuts straight through it, snapping her attention back to him with a startled blink and a moment of pure disbelief before a slow, crooked smile spreads across her mouth. "Yeah?" she asks softly, the word carrying both hope and relief as she searches his eyes for confirmation that she is not imagining it.

When he growls out his praise in that low, deliberate way he knows affects her, Flora draws in a slow breath through her nose, lashes lowering just a touch as she watches him with open awareness, her body already responding before her mind can catch up. She expects his mouth to find hers, and the laughter that slips free when instead he peppers her neck with kisses is light and unguarded, relief and affection tangling together, until the drag of his teeth sends a pulse of heat skimming across her skin and has her shivering closer against him without even meaning to. The pressure of his fingers tightening over the lace at her hips lights her up in a way that feels almost unfair, the contrast of cool air against bare skin and his warmth anchoring her in place, the fabric shifting just enough beneath his touch to tease sensation across her lower back and make her breath hitch where her lips press into his hair.

Her fingers flex instinctively at the nape of his neck, nails brushing his skin as a breathy laugh escapes her. "If you keep holding me like this, I'm going to start getting turned on every time you unwrap something," she murmurs, the admission playful but honest in a way she does not bother to soften, not when her mind is so helplessly bound up in the image of his hands and the sensation of the lace tugging across her skin. Pulling back just enough for him to see the flush warming her cheeks, she shakes her head at him in mock reproach, as though the way he has set her alight is something she could possibly blame him for, before turning back toward the counter with a deliberate sway.

She scoops up a dollop of whipped cream from one of the mugs on her finger and lifts it to her mouth, lips gliding slowly over her skin as she draws the sweetness away, the indulgent hum she makes quiet but unmistakable as her gaze never leaves him.

and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Need a hundred lifetimes kinda love

Shivers spark behind the scrape of her nails, the sensation rolling up and over his head like he's dunked it into ice water. In response, his smile flushes wide against her body, nerves prickling individually to her touch. All it takes is the curl of her fingers to feel a full body tingle, and he'd have it no other way. A La Croix style chuckle rolls below her ear and gets tangled in her hair and the fabric of her hat as her warning lands with as much threat as a toothless dog behind a fence. "That's a good thing, since I intend to unwrap you next," his voice slips out sly, barely registering above a whisper, the low heat of breath the main presence between them for now. Below, his hands have found the lace to be resilient, tugging in against her skin instead of yielding even one stitch, as deceptively strong as the woman wearing it.

He doesn't fight the retreat she makes, but instead lets her spill from his grip to the counter, gaze tracking her with a predatory focus that insists releasing her had been to his benefit. There's no real spine to the shake of her head and the distance she tries to put down, not when she's glowing rosy and has dressed herself up in something so holey the church ought to be missing it about now.

This keen focus has his eyes sliding down with the line of her hand, the corner of his lips tightening as one finger scoops up a miniature cloud of sugar. The motion of that finger curling is enough to make an echo of feeling ghost up his scalp again. This is quickly drowned out by the fresh roar of heat that rises up from his gut when she pops that finger in her mouth and withdraws it slow. His gaze widens subtly, and a pulse ticks down in his pants. "That's it," he declares suddenly, as if she's just toed past a line they'd already set up beforehand. The you-can-only-do-so-many-sexy-things-before-I-lose-it line. He pounces around the counter towards her, and whether he captures her now or ends up in a chase, he means to get his hands on her, all over her. "You're mine."

Kaisel

I could say forever, but forever ain't long enough

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

The sound of his laughter against her and the low promise threaded through it sends heat rushing through Flora so fast it feels almost dizzying, desire blooming vivid and undeniable beneath her skin as every word he murmurs seems to settle directly into her body rather than her ears. Her thoughts scatter in the wake of it, imagination catching on the idea of him unwrapping her, leaving her to wonder breathlessly for a moment how he'd do it. Would it be with slow, deliberate care, fingers tracing and untying every length of silk as though she were some too-expensive gift where the wrapping was as much a part of the gift as what was inside? Or, like a child on Christmas morning, she could just as easily imagine the far more reckless possibility of him tearing into the lace with hungry impatience, too eager to wait, too intent on the moment to pause for anything else. The contrast makes her breath hitch, anticipation coiling tight and bright in her belly until she can feel it everywhere, an electric warmth that has her leaning instinctively toward him even before he moves.

When he comes around the counter, instead of retreating like she normally might, she reaches out and grips the collar of his sweater and the trailing length of his violet scarf, tugging him forward until his warmth presses flush against her, the contact sparking through her with a sharp, delighted shiver. The thought of staying here, of torn lace and her hands braced against the counter, surrounded by sugar and shattered sweetness and chaos, flickers briefly through her mind, but the growl of his claim resonates too deeply for her to ignore, echoing through her with promise and certainty and the kind of heat that demands more space. Rising onto her toes, she loops her arms around his neck and begins to walk them backward down the hall, lips finding his in eager, messy kisses that make her laugh softly against his mouth as she fumbles between keeping her footing and giving herself over to the depth of the kiss she wants to sink into.

It's like a half-remembered dance, steps uneven but instinctive as Flora walks them down the hall, and the moment they cross into the bedroom she'll try to pivot, wanting the back of his knees to find the bed before hers did, to make it all the easier for her to climb astride him.

and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Need a hundred lifetimes kinda love

Surprise flickers up briefly when she doesn’t pull away but instead grabs him, tugging him forward like she’s been waiting for him to get close enough to take him along on her ride. A sound slips out of him that’s half laugh, half startled exhale as her hands bunch in his sweater and scarf, and suddenly there’s no room for anything but the press of her body and the way her mouth keeps finding his. The rush of capture becoming mutual melts immediately, dissolving into the warmth of her embrace, and he has never wanted for anything more than this feeling of her claiming him just as wholly as he does her.

He follows the pull of her lead without question, kisses a breathless smear as they collide and recover and collide again. Short, giddy laughter brushes past teeth and lips as often as the low sound of building want. One arm wraps firm around her shoulders, fingers threading into her hair to keep her close as he leans into every step she takes. Whatever sight he might have spared for where they’re going is quickly abandoned, going by feel instead, by the way she moves them, by the warmth of her and the pulse of excitement humming straight through them. His free hand thumps against a wall, then drags along it, the process clumsy and delighted. It reaches out blindly in an attempt to keep them from barreling into anything important, focus too absorbed by her mouth.

Turning willingly at her insistence, swaying in her arms like this is a practiced give and take, he backs into the edge of the bed. The familiar buoy in this storm of heat is one he reaches for slowly, sinking into the bed deliberately. His arm tightens to pull her with him as he lands seated, trying to gather her in his lap and feel the full weight of her encircle him. Slipping free of her hair, his fingers trail the lace at her back like a pattern he's reading, his other hand joining the story at her hip. He tries to tug again, more purposeful this time, content to replace whatever he might ruin.

Kaisel

I could say forever, but forever ain't long enough

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

Flora flows over Kai with an ease that feels instinctive rather than deliberate, her knees settling astride his hips as her weight finds him fully, her body perched over his waist in a way that makes the closeness feel bound by some increase in gravity. She leans forward, the pom-poms of her hat dangling as she slips her fingers beneath the hem of his heather-brown shirt, drawing the fabric upward in a slow, unhurried motion that gathers both it and his scarf until she can tug them free over his head. Her breath is uneven when she does it, a little quick and a little shy despite herself, and once his skin is bare beneath her hands she lets her fingers wander upward again, tracing the familiar and warm lines of his muscle despite how intimately she knows these hills and valleys.

When his hands work at the lace at her hip, and the red fabric gives with a soft, yielding sound, anticipation snaps bright inside her, heat coiling low and sharp. Her breath stutters when she leans closer, not because she is unsure but because being this near him makes everything inside her tighten all at once, heat and memory colliding in a way that leaves no room for distance. Her hips roll faintly as she settles more fully over him, the lace over her breasts brushing his skin first on purpose. One arm stays braced beside his head, keeping her weight poised and deliberate, while the other slides closer, fingers spreading against the bed.

"It was almost a year ago that we were here for the first time," she says quietly, the words pulled from her with effort rather than ease, her voice low and husky with the way the moment presses in around them. Her mouth curves into a small, almost disbelieving smile as she shakes her head, pom-poms brushing the sides of his face when she does, her gaze never leaving his. "And when I kissed you...I never thought it would turn into this."

She leans closer as she speaks, close enough that her breath ghosts across his lips, close enough for every word to land heavy and intimate between them. "That night," she continues, slower now, her voice catching just slightly despite herself, "when I could hear you falling asleep, when your voice kept softening and drifting like you were already halfway gone talking about staying up all night to watch starwhales..." Her lips hover just shy of his, temptation drawn tight and humming. "I couldn't let myself fall asleep. Not when I wanted to kiss you so badly."

The confession hangs between them, charged and vulnerable and aching, and she does not give him time to respond before she closes the distance. Her lips find his, the kiss deep and lingering, built from the tension borne of their mishap above deck and the relief that despite a clumsy start almost a year before in this very bed, they were here together, stronger and better than ever. Her body presses into his as the kiss unfolds, heat and memory threading together until the past ache dissolves completely into the certainty of the present, the way they fit now undeniable and consuming.

and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Need a hundred lifetimes kinda love

The way she folds around him, it feels like tugging on his favorite outfit, so snug with comfort and deep-seated completeness that he can't imagine anything more perfect. Her weight sinking into him blooms an immediate heat from his core to his extremities, and she'll find the firm proof of indulging in that want straining against the center of her seat. The heady moment breaks briefly, hunger splitting into a laugh as her pom-poms buffet him like angry birds from the nest of her hat. The sound dulls into just a gleam in the corner of his gaze as the world washes away into a sheet of heather-brown, his shirt and scarf pulling away without rebellion. The necklace shifts around the fabric, the floral pendant pressing in cool against his skin, in tandem with the slide of her hands. The sensation of her touch skittering over him earns a hitched breath, so he leans in to steal some of hers, hair fighting with pom-poms.

The sudden give of the fabric beneath his hands has him still, just for a moment, as if he's also weighing the way he means to undo her. Even without the sudden roll of her hips against him, eliciting a low murmur of approval, he's already decided that there's no sense in preserving the wrapping paper, not when the gift is what's inside. Fingers tighten and yank, meaning to tug the excess free, his other hand sliding up between her shoulder blades to hold her steady as she presses into him.

"Mm?" he hums back in response, gaze flicking from the close-quarter view of laze yielding and her breasts greeting him. His focus skips up though, fighting past pom-poms with a crooked smile, half fond and half melted. The memory of that night flickers to life in his thoughts, fighting past the current urge to have her like a ghost of arousals past. "I hav—" he begins to say, soft and bright with truth, but she removes it swiftly with an almost urgent seal of her mouth. He curls in around the press of her, tipping back fully onto the bed and carrying her with him, felled by the fierce weight of her love. Suddenly, whatever he was going to say doesn't matter nearly as much as more of that, and quietly he pulls her closer still, his arm cinching down against her back, content to suffocate on her lips.

Breathless, he tips away with a soft laugh born of too much feeling to keep carrying than anything funny. "I'm so glad that you kissed me," and though it's true for each and every time she has, he means the first time, here, when they otherwise might have fallen asleep. "I always want you to kiss me," he informs with all the seriousness he can muster, grip loosening slowly so he can reach up and tag her hat further down on her head, huffing out a soft breath at the sight. "The first time I realized how badly I wanted to kiss you, was at your house." the grin that breaks out is fully boyish, and that had been the moment his boyhood crush had deepened into something far more dangerous. "You put that ice cream spoon in your mouth and I couldn't stop noticing your lips after that." Here, his hand drifts from her cap to brush his thumb across those impeccable lips now.

"Gods, I want to kiss you every day and go mad trying to remember them all."

Kaisel

I could say forever, but forever ain't long enough

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

The sound of fabric giving way beneath Kai's hands steals the breath straight out of her lungs, not in distress but in a sharp, flaring rush that tears through her like heat finding a fault line, the sensation racing outward from her hips and spine in bright, unraveling threads. The lace yields softly, red petals loosening where they had clung, and the awareness of it makes her body arch instinctively into his touch, the chill of the air brushing newly bare skin while his warmth anchors her there.

When he draws her down with him, the bed rising to meet them, she follows easily, her body draping over his as if it has always known exactly how to fit there. The movement presses heat into her, her hips finding a slow, deliberate rhythm that pulls a quiet sound from her throat as sensation blooms low and insistent, desire rolling through her in waves she does not bother to temper. Everything in her narrows to closeness, to the way the world seems to exist only in the places where they touch, where breath tangles and time slips loose.

She lifts her head just enough to see him properly as he speaks, the words landing softly but steadily, and the affection in them makes something in her chest ache in the best possible way. When he tugs the hat lower, she laughs under her breath, the sound crooked and fond, her smile spreading wide and lopsided as she takes him in like this, laid back beneath her with that open, boyish warmth that never fails to undo her. The memory he shares unfurls between them like a ribbon drawn back through time.

As his thumb brushes across her mouth, she turns into the touch without thinking, her lips pressing warmly to his skin, her tongue sweeping there in a quiet, teasing arc as a soft hum vibrates through her. Her gaze never leaves his as she speaks, the words breathed against his thumb. "I didn’t think you were going to kiss me back," she admits before lowering herself again, lips finding his as she finishes in a whisper, "now that'll have been my last first kiss, and I never want you to stop."

She kisses him again deeply, a touch more recklessly than before, her body settling more fully over him as torn lace slips further from her hip, red fabric drooping like a flower finally too heavy to stay upright. She moves with slow confidence, hips rolling in a deliberate tease against the line of his erection in order to keep friction humming between them.

and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3