your hands are scarred from murder

SUNJATA

the flood

with every breath and every intake
tip toe further away

She’s close, and he can tell it even before he slips into her. But it still does little to prevent him from giving her everything he can, relishing in the way she crashes and shatters around him. His breath hitches against her, growling his approval as she trembles for him. He takes all of her, drowning in her, before he reluctantly withdraws — but his thumb continues to stroke gently, following through with the aftershocks of the pleasure that rack through her until he can capture his breath and she becomes too sensitive. If she does, that is.

He looks back up to her, panting, wiping at his mouth briefly before kissing her thigh again softly and tenderly with love, as he moves from his space between her thighs to move up beside her, resting with his back against the pillows as his chest rises and falls as he pants and continues to capture his breath. His hand seeks hers out, an uncomfortable tension coiling within him as his other arm lifts to rest along his forehead. After a moment, he turns his head to her with a feline grin. “Tired now?” He purrs to her breathlessly.

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