Lena
// what is to give light must endure burning //
Lena didn’t consider any of the affections or affirmations swept away; if anything at all, they were amplified, pressed in between undulations and movements, curled and contorted in the rapid beats of hearts and lungs, in the swell of motions, in the way they kept chasing down portions together. Her mouth sought his, wet and maneuvering across sweat-streaked cheeks or lips or necks, the thread of her moans echoing across skin, pressing her salt-laden head somewhere against his sternum or in the crook of his nape. Her eyes fell closed, concentration and focus amiss between the ardent furor and fervor, enthusiasm rankling in the depths of each groan or light bout of laughter to caress and stroke his flesh.
She kept her legs locked around his hips, following the rhythm of his thrusts as best she could, pleasantly surprised as the pace amplified, as his finger found her clit and the eruption of senses implored and cajoled, making her want nothing more. “Zav,” she uttered as promised, nothing more than him and him and him in her mind. When he pulsed against it again she trembled beneath his wake, the reward for the sentiments a long, high-pitched moan of encouragement. “Yes,” she hissed, lip caught between her teeth, drawn out while her other hand wandered, somewhere down his own thigh, fingers reaching to touch and bring ever closer to fruition and completion. “Are you-,” she might’ve said close, but the word didn’t make it through her summations, another chord of mewling and panting threading its way through her vocals; a gasp across his muscles.
She kept her legs locked around his hips, following the rhythm of his thrusts as best she could, pleasantly surprised as the pace amplified, as his finger found her clit and the eruption of senses implored and cajoled, making her want nothing more. “Zav,” she uttered as promised, nothing more than him and him and him in her mind. When he pulsed against it again she trembled beneath his wake, the reward for the sentiments a long, high-pitched moan of encouragement. “Yes,” she hissed, lip caught between her teeth, drawn out while her other hand wandered, somewhere down his own thigh, fingers reaching to touch and bring ever closer to fruition and completion. “Are you-,” she might’ve said close, but the word didn’t make it through her summations, another chord of mewling and panting threading its way through her vocals; a gasp across his muscles.
