DEIMOS
Vulnerability didn’t gnarl on his surface as it would any other time; not here, not now. There was no weakness, no susceptibility, no weak and helpless void, wrapped and ensconced and held, a mantra of all the unspoken things shared on skin and pulsing, beating hearts. His trust and conviction were immersed in the shape of their motions, in the scintillating gestures of his mouth, in the predilection and unholy grace of his growls; a repeated refrain: for her, for her, for her. The beast absorbed her hisses and closed his eyes at their feral intricacies, unraveling groans and unleashing sibilances, a rake of her teeth over brawn and sinew and flesh further entangling his guttural reverberations. He would’ve never thought to have been anyone’s prize, much less hers; seized and possessed and taken in, a willful snare, an enticing rapture, an inveigling reverie he’d be content to remain within for a lifetime.Persuaded, beguiled, by her sojourns over his form, only a solitary, rapacious moment had him at a loss, incapable of simply remaining, of simply waiting, itching, aching, to do something. But then her ministrations continued, patterns and complexities, a sharpened edge to his loosened growls as she followed argent lines and scars he’d never been ashamed of, eyes shut again to merely sink into the pleasure, into the rapacity, into the avaricious entanglements. He might’ve gasped on several turns of her grin, missing its wicked nature while his hooded gaze was locked away, expanding on senses, on touch, on the teasing, the taunting. As she stoked her finery, as she kindled more flames, more lust, more wanton decrees along his hips, he rolled them once more, encouraging, inviting, always a maneuver instead of words and phrases, always an action in absence of his discourse. It was likely payback for his earlier deliberations, but he savored it all the while, the rush of promise, the heat of ardor, the tension, the intertwining depths of when and where they'd go – eyes opening, hands reaching for the softness of her skin and the lavishing qualities that came with it, imploring, imploring, imploring.
Perhaps he’d unleashed some sort of monster, the way she indulged and satisfied now, his glance downward taking the voracity, the fire, the hooded incandescence in her stare – roused by it all the more, watching, waiting, spiraling, muscles undulating, rippling, in her attention. He watched her tongue and might’ve whimpered, silencing the plea with a vicious growl saying, sparking, exactly what he required – not intending to beg. “More,” slipped behind his teeth and tongue though, coming out feral and savage as her hand wrapped around him, another moan, another groan, following over, eyes half-closed again, chest expanding, breaths wild and willing.
You aren't afraid of throwing yourself
in the path of danger
but you're terrified of letting anyone in
