{se} you know I’m not a saint

DEIMOS

the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness

Neither of their demands were silent; indulgent, grasping, craving things on whispers and bedroom hymns and growls immersed in between moans of pleasure. A driving and insistent need built behind his spine and spiraled along the depths of his mind in the same facets as predacious, minatory ends, unleashed and feral and infernal in different, alternating platitudes; here was simply to be consumed and delighted and raw, the answering pant only needed to persist and continue.

His skin shuddered again beneath the relish of her touch, muscles pinpointed and infinite, waiting for the miniscule round of control to slip away and pierce through them both. Snagging onslaughts and fierce motions, escalating each thrust to a new height, each angle to a new aspiration, one of his hands remained along her ribs, along the arches of her back as each undulation sent them towards peaks and highs, while the other went to join her. The only answer she received otherwise was a low growl, mouth unbidden along her ear, upon her throat, drifting across pulse points and curves, pressing along her jawline until they found her lips again – swallowing down the merciless outcries.

for the space they take
and so, neither shall I