[seasonal event] to find a soul somewhere

Deimos The Reaper waited – still as stone, as rock, as mountains, despite every keening, voracious rush boiling in his skin, in his flesh, urged him to move, to take, to relish, to consume. Instincts were a malicious, vehement course, gnarling and gnashing their teeth at his patience, at his sharp inhalations, staying until there was acceptance, until there was a whimper, a mewl, a moan. Then came the bestial hums, the barbaric croons, the crushing, rolling pursuits and persistence, his mouth on her neck, tongue unleashing its own path, as his hips coiled upwards again, precise, calculated, feeding on her gasps, on her moans, on the cadence, tempo, and time they conjured and manifested. It was a sultry dance, more effective, more diverting, than any previous one they’d entangled and raptured themselves in – reverent and smoldering, scintillating and ravaging. These were greedy, avaricious details and passionate interludes, games no longer quite as afoot, predilections abandoned, estimations settled elsewhere; the carnal, carnivore heat pulsed and pervaded his soul, left him tied and gnarled in knots he had no intention of unraveling. Lips sizzled along her nape and back again to her mouth, the feverish reverberations of his growls, of his hisses, of his moans, were swallowed by hers, an echo of tension and love and willful relinquishing; power was power, ardor was ardor, lust and intimacy and devotion were parallel schisms and catalysts, drunk on one another. The warrior permitted, surrendered her control of the pace, unwinding, faster and faster, breath billowing as they ebbed and flowed, as they surged and descended. They rose and fell on the shuddering of bliss, teeth biting over her lip, taunting and teasing, the smallest of smirks and snickers crossing over his lips even as he released a sordid moan, eyes closing as he simply felt – immersed in the sun and the stars, the galaxy and the heavens. His tongue licked a trail of salt and skin along her collarbone, hands following the course of her movements and motions, sinking along his fathoms, his depths, as he chased passages down her chest, imploring another exploration as she arched again. He shivered and quivered, a ripple in his spine, in his abdomen, as she murmured his name (it sounded like devotion, sweet and ambrosial, nothing he deserved but everything he was willing to grasp and clench). It coiled in his ears and made him nearly come undone – but not too early, not too soon, he brooded and breathed, exhalations scattering along her breasts, another growl of her name, maybe a warning, maybe a song of predators and might, chiseled its way through his throat. His senses were aflame and he was an inferno, thawed glacier brought to life by the scorching touch of beacons, mine, mine, mine a desperate persistence in the back of his voracious mind. He wanted, wanted, and wanted, never quite content, thrusting upwards again, stronger, more insistent, while his lips slid and serpentine their way (a rivulet, a winding, twisting road of wild, imploring abandon) towards her neck again, behind her ear; sin singing a moan. He didn’t need words, not now. Out of sight and out of mind Make everything alright So let the sky and sea collide Just not in our lifetime