DEIMOS
He waited for some tumultuous teasing, the way they meandered back and forth on quips and challenges, on dares and provocations; entertaining diversions even when they were strung along their enamored, devoted moments, even when they pulsed and pervaded within the denizens of lust. It was nearly an expectation now, for ruses and duplicities, for games and entertainment, but he’d forgotten the simmering, smoldering tides of Amalia’s whims, and on the echo of his breath, she’d dove – swift and keen and his sharp intake of air was smothered down by her cough, by her choke. He raised his head, his torso, in alarm, in concern, for her, not for himself, snatched out of any reverie, “All right?” on his lips moments before her grin. Then she seemed eager to continue, and his form undulated without any prompting but her motions, cranium falling back against the bed’s surface while her ministrations sought to overcome.Surrounded and encompassed by her mouth, by her orchestrations, by her hands, by her fingers, he was just one more writhing mass of movement and encouragement in her wake. The sun scorched and he trembled in its light, in its fury, in its haze, brought back to the molten inferno time and time again on the presses of her wake, of her teeth, of her tongue. Control and composure had long since fled, muscles rippling, breaths sharpened and wanton, ending on croons, on sighs, on invigorated, emboldened, roused efforts, never quite a plea pulsing from his mouth, but echoes and reverberations of them, collected on fringes of ether and air. The monolith wanted and wanted and wanted, her and her and her, hands reaching on impulse, fingers striving to settle somewhere, share his sentiments, his ardor, while his hips bucked and coiled into impetuous notions, following her in slow, unraveled motions. You too he almost said; he shouldn’t be the only one experiencing the lustful indulgences, unwilling to be the sole participant.
Once hooded eyes were now completely closed, jaw raised as if in defiance and sedition when it was just a way to contort his body into further extortions and fortifications of pleasure. Somewhere along the way his legs had sought to wrap around hers, calves brushing, entangling, touch extended, fervor and edges of release behind his eyes. Her name was a guttural groan, a bristling hymn, croons and murmurs and howls unleashed on the feverish, fervent rhythms. It might’ve been a warning too, tucked along growls and clenched teeth, ivories pressed together in feral hisses and a blistering sibilance, pending release, the satisfaction and contentment beginning to gather behind his spine, along his abdomen, down, down, down along her descent.
You aren't afraid of throwing yourself
in the path of danger
but you're terrified of letting anyone in
