your hands are scarred from murder

SUNJATA

the flood

with every breath and every intake
tip toe further away

He hums his approval to her as she gives into the feeling, to the sounds she gives him as he carefully works to avoid hurting her to give her pleasure. He’s burning with her, but in a slightly different way – savoring her, worshipping her, giving her whatever he can to please her and draw that exhaustion from her. He can feel her grasp one of the horns, the other hand of hers dragging her nails along his scalp, and it’s all the confirmation he needs. He smirks into his kisses, into the touch he gives her, his thumb pausing in its circling to press gently against the bone of her leg.

And to praise her for her reaction, he nears her then, breaking the eye contact as he focuses on her sweetest spot – hand moving beneath her to lift her hips a small amount, tongue slipping to caress her softly at first and then a small amount stronger – drowning in the taste of her, craving and wanting more. A hum of appreciation is given, enough that it might add an additional vibration through her as he continues, wondering what kind of reaction this might give him.

further away from this mistake
i'm no savior, i'm no saint