PHOEBE
She gasped as he left his mark on her collarbone - predictably surprising every time he did so. But it was all part of the rhythm they had settled into in the weeks before, comfortingly familiar even with the increase in tempo. Her legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him in and keeping them close. Even those seconds of adjustment and settling were painstaking, primal urges more powerful than she had experience before making each moment agony. When they finally connected her back arched and a guttural moan escaped her lips, head tossed back, nails digging into his shoulders. Without a moment lost her hips rocked against his, goading him to an unprecedented pace.
When dark creeps in and eats the light
Bury your fears on sorry night
For in the winter's darkest hours
Comes the feasting of the Vours
No one can see it, the life they stole
Your body's here but not your soul
