DEIMOS
Tired of her, as if she still had no idea of her effects and her hold, all the compassion and beneficence, all the halcyon ramparts and sun-kissed dispositions; she should be exasperated of him, who sought out parallels of darkness because it was comfortable and familiar, still uncertain when the light shined in his eyes. Perhaps it was something needing to be said over and over again, because they dwelled in haunting, poignant onslaughts, and often the terror was well beyond monsters needing to be conquered, or blights requiring restoration, but the before, the after, and everything in between. When things fell apart they were never quite the same, shattered remnants of the twice-broken shards, only enough enamel and lacquer to put things back together again. But piece-by-piece, he’d strive, because the Sword didn’t ever give in so readily, held exhaustion and fatigue at bay, knotted and gnarled his foundations into the most stubborn and resolute of roots. He laid the notions at her skin, tucked them into her soul on a feral kiss along her nape, rising along her ear, pulsing, persisting, pervading the infinite promises and convictions where she could remember, where she could adorn them, where she could wear them as armor. “Never,” was an ardent whisper crooning from a rumble along the back of his throat, intertwining in his chest, beating over the muscles and ramparts of his heart; igniting there in the coast of his mouth, as it inclined and devoured, sliding down her neck, over collarbones, pushing aside whatever remnants of his shirt remained. Molten and ignited at her touch, his explorations, returning sojourns, continued, unbidden at her chest, only invoking a hallowed laugh that softly exalted near soft skin at her remarks about fur. His lips sketched and outlined favored routes, teeth lightly tracing, teasing, taunting, dangerously close to the rest of her exposed chest, more promises, more endeavors. He wanted her alive and kindled at his touch, savoring, scintillating, casting aside embers for infernos, resplendent and luminescence, predilections of the wanton, of the devoted – any and all of his reverent piety for her.
You aren't afraid of throwing yourself
in the path of danger
but you're terrified of letting anyone in
