DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
It was a change from their first – gone was the shyness, the apprehension, flickering away in the blink of an eye, in the smoldering assignations bristling them together, fire and fire and fire, cooling the glacial walls, the mountain expanse, and he might’ve been molten, might’ve been scorched, senses dizzying and stupefied, brazen and infernal. It was a sin he’d commit again and again, listening to her whimper, to her moan, to her groans contorting upon his mind, yearning for them to be a constant, wanton need and necessity, a reverberation, an intonation, that she wanted him and every single broken shard, every single splintered fragment, every single bitter flaw and defect. He fed the flames of her aggression, of her possession, of her cravings and hankerings with his own, hissing when her tongue met his ear, laughing when her hand spread across his skin, upon his hip, legs wrapped, tugging and insistent, and implored, convinced, endeavored. There were too many promises laden on his mouth but each one was for her and only her – a silent whisper, a ghostly sigh, a scintillating undulation of his hips, pressing and teasing, neither of them delicate now; desperate and hungry, ravenous and acquisitive. They’d already won, victorious in their devotions and affections, in their love and trust and faith, but it kept going, kept climbing, kept inciting all the other nuances and expressions in between – lust building and brewing, a cauldron of manifested bemusement and desire. A gasp on her exultation was music to his ears, a squeal followed by a raw chuckle, resounding from his throat, and the claws were not there, the choking nooses and tethers falling apart, naught but the glow, the desperation, the demands.He’d thought about the soap and the towels, the cloths, on the chair nearby, he’d planned and mused, he’d calculated and deciphered –
And then any and all notions were gone, caught in the haze, in the fire, in the inferno consuming his soul.
For a moment, or maybe for an infinite number of seconds, he was entirely uncertain and didn’t care. They didn’t escape one another, didn’t even bother to try. There was no tactical evasion; standing amidst the fumes and puffs of sultry air, drawing, molding, sculpting their own – his mouth simmered against hers, still hungry, still voracious, tongue aiming to slide past her lips. But then she descended, and he was quite lost; because it meant some form of surrender, some form of vulnerability he’d yet to truly ever embody or embrace. That she would keep offering him pleasure, scorching touches in her wake, traveling down his neck, his sternum, down and down and down and he wasn’t quite sure what to do, was an experience he couldn’t define or measure, at a damned loss. However, his body seemed to hold that notion in little regard, mouth gaping, chest heaving, whimpers and moans effectively voicing his inclinations and indulgences. More growls and hisses worked their way past his lips as the lightest of touches stroked over his hip, lingering along his pelvis, a prelude – a sigh glinted and flinted through his being, his glance stolen by hers, gazes meeting, an even exchange from days on riverfronts and wild abandon; back and forth.
Except, even then he’d been quick to embolden his efforts away from yielding and submission, a greater part of him always roaring for control, for composure, for not giving himself entirely away. He’d once been unreachable, unattainable, a denizen of guarded predilections, meant for no one but his nefarious, abhorrent self.
But on her moan, on her touch, he was so completely, utterly lost that it really didn’t matter anymore – fingers intertwining in her hair, begging, beseeching, pleading for her to continue, figure shuddering, shaking, quivering on the promised release.
Unite and spread the heart apart
