his hand trumps hers, sealing her fate.

"maybe it's my shuffling."

regardless, he sighs, lips curling into a smile as his eyes flicked up to watch her.

Lulu Flint

☉

she paused, unable to keep from snorting lightly at her luck and the consequences. her eyes raised towards him with a sheepishness that only he’d ever been offered—but the trace of a smile curled to faintly reflect his own.

”maybe i shouldn’t have taught you.”

she could have shimmied her pants off beneath the table, but she stood, slowly, watching him, as she had that first night. her eyes locked on in a way that might seem to threaten to never let go. it was a small stroke of confidence, though timidness still showed in the way she lowered the last of her clothing off her hips.

pressed cloth pooled in folds on the floor. it was an offering.

THEO BECKETT

☉

"maybe."

but it has nothing to do with his shuffling. luck had been on his side, and as he watches her, watches how the last of her clothing falls off her hips, he realizes luck continues to be on his side.

the look he gives her is reminiscent of that first night, though it's softer — marred, perhaps — by feelings of affection towards her.

so, he stands as well, moving slowly as he approaches her. he pulls at his own shirt, shrugging it off.

Lulu Flint

☉

she watched him rise, and his shirt come up over his head and fall off to the ground. though her eyes remained on his—wherever they went—she could see his many scars out of focus.

the kitchen setting, the cards… it all reminded her of an old love. but the scars reminded her, again, that this was not that. theo was hardly the misguided youth that she mourned. he was the man that came after such a life.

this love was different.

the last two times, she had gone to him. this time, she allowed him to approach instead, feeling her heart thump in anticipation.

THEO BECKETT

☉

a different kind of love — one he's yet to experience, and now that he has a taste of it, one he can't get enough of. how quickly a flicker of care can turn into something much more.

love shows in the way he reaches out for her, in the gentleness of his hands, in how he peers into her eyes with a sense of longing. his hands travel down the lines of her jaw, feeling the smoothness of her skin.

a pause.

a beat.

and a kiss.

Lulu Flint

☉

his touch was another kind of affection she had scarcely ever received—not from a man, anyways. though she had not yet fully embraced such caring, slowly, she was beginning to take comfort in it.

as his hands paused, almost cradling her face, she gravitated towards him. the kiss was returned, and her own touch was less timid than it had been the day before. it traveled down the muscles of his back, the shape and force behind them growing familiar to her.

THEO BECKETT

☉

his hands move down her neck, across her shoulders, along the the familiar curves of her body, before resting over the small of her back. he pulls her into him, pressing his body into hers, relishing the feeling of her skin against his.

and soon, he's tugging at his pants, adding it to the pile on the floor.

Lulu Flint

☉

she relished in it as well, in every inch of skin exposed and freed, melting against him. she leaned up on her toes a little, breaking their kiss to brush his nose with her own. a moment of softness, and of true and undeniable affection, free from the harsh judgments ever-present in her voice, or of bitterness.

the lingering essence of saoirse’s heart, still glowing faintly. smiling at him, from somewhere within the dark void of ‘lulu flint’.

her fingers wrapped around his forearm, gently pulling to take his hand. she looked up at him, pressed a kiss into his chest, and turned to tug him lightly towards the bedroom.

THEO BECKETT

☉

it's funny — scary — how a simple gesture can mean the world to him. their noses brush in an act of softness, of affection, and of love, and he finds himself falling what he expects to be a short distance.

but he never finds ground. he continues into the everpresent void, perhaps never to climb back out.

not that he wants to.

she takes his hand, and he allows her to tug him towards the bedroom. but he's known for a while now that he'd follow her anywhere. all she needs to do is ask.

Lulu Flint

☉

so often, she battled for power over lovers. with him, she’d sought his control. to feel every bit of his strength and succumb to it, accept him, and thus accept the way of life that he represented. that morning, she would seek neither control, nor to be controlled. there would be balance in her touch, as she sought nothing but to make him feel euphoric.

they were soon in the bedroom, much cozier than the dank lighthouse bunker. she pulled him further towards the bed, a sparkle in her eye that was different than before. with a pause, it silently suggested that he sit, and allow her to show him what she’d learned from their time together.

THEO BECKETT

☉

the tiniest bit of morning light slips through the cracks in the curtains, giving the bedroom a soft orange glow of comfort and warmth.

he's pulled towards the bed, and at her silent suggestion, he sits, bare ass finding silk sheets. his hand slips out of hers if only to allow her the moment.

what has she learned?

Lulu Flint

☉

the light traced halos over their sides, like two celestial bodies against the solar glow. as they passed through beams, it rippled on the walls like a rift in the universe. a portal into sweet nothings and candy for the soul—or what was left of it. in this tiny world they created, it felt abundant and thriving.

he sat, and whatever had awoken within her guided her touch and taste. she gravitated towards him, leaning to trail affection down his neck, and then further. eventually, she met the ground.

his unique sensitivities, and the things he seemed to crave, had become if only a little more familiar. she treated them with care, warmth, and zeal.

THEO BECKETT

☉

sounds of pleasure flow through the sanctity of their little bubble. she is delicate, knowing, and caring in a way he's never quite experienced before, but it's something he's come to desire only from her. her knees meet the floor, and his hand rests on the back of her head, fingers caressing her dark hair.

it becomes clear then, if it hasn't before, that she knows him.

and he knows her.

so, after a while, his hand moves to her chin to tilt her gaze up towards him.

"good."

and he offers her his hand — an invitation to switch, perhaps.

Lulu Flint

☉