your hands are scarred from murder

SUNJATA

the flood

with every breath and every intake
tip toe further away

She follows easily, and he sighs into the touch of her wrapped around his chest, of her fingers tangling in his hair, of her lips finding his own that still taste like her. Shifting himself slightly, he sighs a quiet growl against her lips, his own tongue darting out — no longer partially shifted — to tangle with her own.

But she shifts her hips again and it’s enough to cause his hips to press up against her again, cock twitching as she toys with him all the same. His hands shift from her hair and shoulders to trail gently down her body, to her backside as he goes to lift her a small fraction. He breaks the kiss to search her gaze, his own shadowed by lust. “Ride me, Maea.” He purrs with a hoarse voice against her lips, trying to position her just right to sink down onto him — greedy and filled with far too much aching need to want to wait much longer.

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