DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
There’d be no more thoughts of ships, not in his mind anyway – not in the fleeting instances of vacation machinations anyway. Perhaps it was his turn to lose some value in coherency, the moment her hands roamed; a sibilance, a hiss, as fingers wound along him. An intentional barb to their game – as he tended to simmer along their foreplay far longer just to have her unfurling at the seams multiple times, to take those idle frameworks and cast incessant, building flames – and he echoed some guttural groan into her ear, a distant patch of a roar stuck somewhere in his chest. Not fair might have been uttered into her flesh, but he wouldn’t be able to recall if it made it past his teeth, mind numbing and warping into naught more than that incessant, driving need they both seemed to be sharing.
As Evie had no intention of relishing or savoring any slow buildup, any light crescendo, he could only bound a laugh into her hairline, before his mouth moved back over hers, hands sweeping through and removing any other lingering garments. In return, fingers dipped between her thighs, pressing, caressing, stroking, wanting to hear the wanton sighs and the breathless whimpers, foundations for when his cock followed suit.
As Evie had no intention of relishing or savoring any slow buildup, any light crescendo, he could only bound a laugh into her hairline, before his mouth moved back over hers, hands sweeping through and removing any other lingering garments. In return, fingers dipped between her thighs, pressing, caressing, stroking, wanting to hear the wanton sighs and the breathless whimpers, foundations for when his cock followed suit.
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
my head is bloody, but unbowed
