f l o r e n t i n e
Her lips still tingle.
The memory of that kiss still plays across her mind, warming her body and ghosting her lips. It beckons a smile from her lips and it is like nothing she has ever smiled before. It is a secretive curve that lies there, shy and thrilled and threatening to burst with wild abandonment. But the starlight girl doesn’t let it - she keeps that smile small, a shade for the glow of her cheeks.
Florentine is a flame that Bexley has ignited and she wonders what could ever snuff her out. This fire the Solterran girl has sparked and fanned, and continues to do so, it is a hungry thing and Flora is not sure she will survive it. She would become just ash upon the wind. Again.
Would you like another one?
How long was that wide-eyed stare held? How many centuries did it truly last before blinking away, for it felt like it took until the end of Time. Florentine was just a statue beneath Bexley’s gaze, held suspended by suggestion, by misinterpretation. It stops the dusk girl’s wayward heart, ties her tongue and flushes her cheek more and more. This girl is burning and she is falling. She cannot speak, cannot dare to think that Bexley might be entertaining the thought of another kiss.
But it was all over in the blink of an eye.
It is both relief and an unnamable sadness that creep their way through Flora’s body when Bexley’s eyes become softer, when her smile becomes sweeter and her head lowers for a flower. The flower Flora still holds with pounding heart and flushed skin.
It is with trembling breath that the gilded girls draw together like magnets. Could the flower girl stop that small, small step? Could she stop the sway of her body that brings her a little closer to better feel the brush of silk skin against silk skin? Maybe she could resist…
She doesn’t.
New sensations play across her lips now: the brush of soft starlight hair and tangled flowers. Here, this close, this intimate, the sun-girl smells of dust and jasmine, of hot nights and hotter days. Then there is lavender too, the purple flower a bright contrast within Bexley’s cream hair. Flora likes this scent upon Bexley’s skin and it is too effortful just to tear her eyes away, to lean back.
There is a pull for every inch she pulls back; a pull that tugs at her skin, her abdomen, her chest…
Bexley’s voice, low with passion, soft with flirtation, lures Flora’s attention back. Those words, spoken from sundrenched lips, set the smaller girl’s spine to shiver with their suggestion. And yet, alas, there is a creeping doubt. An insecurity rising like a dragon from the place Charlemagne laid it to slumber. It is worry that has Florentine’s dusk eyes lowering, shielding her thoughts from the sun-girl.
A moment, maybe two, passes until bravery pulls that amethyst gaze up and up and up. Up passed long snow-white and gilded-gold legs, up the groove of a slender throat, with pulse pounding - what would it be like, to feel the pulse there? Would it race like her own, a matching rhythm of lust and wonder? - and up to eyes that glow sea blue. That same bravery dances a flirty smile across Flora’s lips and has her saying, “For the right reasons, I hope.” A pause, a breath, and then, “One might say the feeling is mutual.”
A glimmer of light from within the threads of Bexley’s hair, captures the Terrastellan’s attention. Slowly her lips lift to feel the golden chain that once lay hidden. “And what it this?” She asks, lips tugging playfully at the glimmering gold.
@Bexley
this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
The memory of that kiss still plays across her mind, warming her body and ghosting her lips. It beckons a smile from her lips and it is like nothing she has ever smiled before. It is a secretive curve that lies there, shy and thrilled and threatening to burst with wild abandonment. But the starlight girl doesn’t let it - she keeps that smile small, a shade for the glow of her cheeks.
Florentine is a flame that Bexley has ignited and she wonders what could ever snuff her out. This fire the Solterran girl has sparked and fanned, and continues to do so, it is a hungry thing and Flora is not sure she will survive it. She would become just ash upon the wind. Again.
Would you like another one?
How long was that wide-eyed stare held? How many centuries did it truly last before blinking away, for it felt like it took until the end of Time. Florentine was just a statue beneath Bexley’s gaze, held suspended by suggestion, by misinterpretation. It stops the dusk girl’s wayward heart, ties her tongue and flushes her cheek more and more. This girl is burning and she is falling. She cannot speak, cannot dare to think that Bexley might be entertaining the thought of another kiss.
But it was all over in the blink of an eye.
It is both relief and an unnamable sadness that creep their way through Flora’s body when Bexley’s eyes become softer, when her smile becomes sweeter and her head lowers for a flower. The flower Flora still holds with pounding heart and flushed skin.
It is with trembling breath that the gilded girls draw together like magnets. Could the flower girl stop that small, small step? Could she stop the sway of her body that brings her a little closer to better feel the brush of silk skin against silk skin? Maybe she could resist…
She doesn’t.
New sensations play across her lips now: the brush of soft starlight hair and tangled flowers. Here, this close, this intimate, the sun-girl smells of dust and jasmine, of hot nights and hotter days. Then there is lavender too, the purple flower a bright contrast within Bexley’s cream hair. Flora likes this scent upon Bexley’s skin and it is too effortful just to tear her eyes away, to lean back.
There is a pull for every inch she pulls back; a pull that tugs at her skin, her abdomen, her chest…
Bexley’s voice, low with passion, soft with flirtation, lures Flora’s attention back. Those words, spoken from sundrenched lips, set the smaller girl’s spine to shiver with their suggestion. And yet, alas, there is a creeping doubt. An insecurity rising like a dragon from the place Charlemagne laid it to slumber. It is worry that has Florentine’s dusk eyes lowering, shielding her thoughts from the sun-girl.
A moment, maybe two, passes until bravery pulls that amethyst gaze up and up and up. Up passed long snow-white and gilded-gold legs, up the groove of a slender throat, with pulse pounding - what would it be like, to feel the pulse there? Would it race like her own, a matching rhythm of lust and wonder? - and up to eyes that glow sea blue. That same bravery dances a flirty smile across Flora’s lips and has her saying, “For the right reasons, I hope.” A pause, a breath, and then, “One might say the feeling is mutual.”
A glimmer of light from within the threads of Bexley’s hair, captures the Terrastellan’s attention. Slowly her lips lift to feel the golden chain that once lay hidden. “And what it this?” She asks, lips tugging playfully at the glimmering gold.
@
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
