DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
The game is the same, both wanting to draw the other to release, to liberation, to deliverance, to heights they’ve reached before and then higher, consuming selfless chords on the fumes of smoke and sighs. He took and he filled and he brandished every chord, every string, plucking on tones and decibels and tones he hasn’t arched before; hips thrusting forward on a slow, leisurely crawl, drawl, inclination, tracing foundations and fortifications. There were delicate details in those arches and lilts, ardent salutations on evening raptures and undone piety, bending on a groan loosened, mouth dragging deliberately down, down, down, starting from her cheek and down to her exposed neck. His lips found her pulse and sketched a husky hallelujah on her skin; a hiss, a moan, a gasp, a plea; eyes only following the lines of her cheeks, the rise of her eyelids, the snap of bright, scintillating, smoldering fire. He wanted to take it all for himself, every inch of every movement and moment, a piercing, demolishing avarice slipping in the bones of his ribs. He had no idea what his gaze christened or anointed now, the composure gone but the control barely maintained, sizzling and searing down through his thighs, his loins. The beast leaned back against the basin and maneuvered, moved, met her on highs and lows, their stretched, taut rhythm pervaded, surrounded, by the touches of water; echoing on the ricochet of their pleasure.She braced against him and his eyes met hers again, wandering beacons of shudders, a tremulous venture raking along his spine, insistent, gaze hooded in the midnight oils, in the fires and flames licking over their contortions, their distortions, their sounds, their desires. He could see the challenge in her depths, and it sent a growl, a muffled, nearly inaudible howl down through the muscles of his chest, coiling in the undulations of his abdomen, make me imploring and beckoning, and he chased, he chased, he chased. The heathen altered his course, delicately, deliberately slow, bending them both like bows, thrusts of affection, devotion, the only prayers he’d ever to send to any deity (her). Caught in that lustful, shadowed haze, the motions were meant to send her along the edge, the fringe. Torturous in his demeanor, because he waited, persistent to the end, you first unwinding from molten, infernal seduction, the please and pleas in the unspoken vows, swallowing and devouring the encouragements, the sounds, the decibels. Love was in his actions, the only eloquence he’d ever been able to muster – for you, on a sigh, on a growl, on a moan, on a grin.
Unite and spread the heart apart
