[seasonal event] to find a soul somewhere

Deimos It was an extension of their game but far more feral, where his patience remained, persisted, chiseled and tangible, while their avaricious hunger clawed, the cravings not yet sated, the satisfaction arching back and threatening to consume. It was without fury or might, but the weight of a hundred unspoken, unholy designs, and he was devout in his devilish prayers, kneeling and crawling down the length of her form to grant his gifts and extend his pledges. It was deliverance and liberation in lust and licentiousness, their hunger never quite abolished or diminished, take and take and take, relishing the scintillating expositions, the painstaking, tormenting waves. It was Machiavellian in its pursuit, drawn out and composed in artful influence, a tandem of fixations, appetites, and adoration, the sharpest aspirations, the incandescent convictions. He listened for keen tones and incandescent mewls, the pieces and particles of her pleasure lingering on the river’s eaves, higher undulations than the babble of the brook, continuing the ministrations with emboldened tenacity. He wanted stars behind her eyes and suns in her horizon, a crossing of hot wires and fire in her blood, cosmic intervals rising on her intonations, solace and release in the manifested dedication, from him to her, love in the cinders, in the embers, in the zeal and fervency. But Deimos was still not urgent, meticulous in his hazed discipline, recalling her moans, her shudders, aiming to complete them along another interval, an audacious wake left by his tongue. Her compelling motions, meant to persuade, meant to persist, meant to ensue and insist he press onward, made him chuckle, and the billowing puffs of air from his rumbling fortitude curled and coiled along the inside of her thighs, until he was at the very core of her, charting details and desires on their singing inclinations. She wanted him, rock, rubble, and ruin, and only encouraged further disaster and disarray as her hands grasped his hair – he snagged and snarled at her quivers, at her quavers, at the shivering movements, brought his mouth down and down until there was only the taste of her on his tongue. More, more, more, the hearts sang, blood pulsing and pervading in its insistent, conniving madness, lips drawing and sketching his affection, his ardor, his vehemence, his dedication – intending to finesse a first release, to expose her to the overwhelming delights of departure and liberation. Wanton presses and scintillating fervor continued in its mounting exposition, a feverish shudder roaming down his own motions, unwavering and devoted, appealing and beseeching the wildest of discoveries. Urging and insistent, he explored and consumed, a bestial stimulation and arousal, the adamant attentions and intentions behind his rogue, ruffian grin, hidden behind the skin of her thighs, roaming and wandering until he thought he’d knew every part of her; conductor orchestrations amidst the savoring benedictions and intoxicating caresses. Stroke for stroke, they were a beating, heartfelt endeavor, fueled by muse, fanned by lust – the flames, the flames, the flames wrapping and coiling their way around his mind, his heart, his lungs. “What else do you want?” The warrior, the beast, the heathen, the fiend rumbled, teeth and tongue insistent; a grin on his lips, fueled and stirred, electrified. Out of sight and out of mind Make everything alright So let the sky and sea collide Just not in our lifetime