DEIMOS
Innocence had long since left both of them. Perhaps they could’ve meandered and strolled amidst the springs, sank into its depths, unfurled their incantations, and then simply gone home – but that would’ve been wholly unlikely, given the pair. Instead, there were carnal strokes and relished gasps, taking and giving and promising in everything but words. The notions would’ve been unnecessary.
He savored the hitches, the sighs, the whines, the moans, spurring, invoking, inciting him onward, until his mouth drifted against the pale outline of her neck again, intending for the mewls to continue while his hands wandered. Tracing, stroking, like outlines and sketches on canvas, intending to tease and torment with light, ghostly trails; a contour along her hips, a calloused finger against her ribs, a palm inching towards her thighs.
His persistence only ceased at her mild protest, grumbling lowly in his chest as her fingers maneuvered through his hair, instinctually curling and coiling into the motions without thought. Were his mind not engaged upon desires and needs, he might have rolled his eyes. Instead, his lips taunted just above hers, the huff of a laugh prospering against her skin. “Same to you,” and truthfully, she was wearing more than he was. But the Sword could fix that.
He moved, teeth grazing the shell of her ear, before dragging their way down to the strings of her bikini, and neatly pulling, plucking, their knotted ends out.
He savored the hitches, the sighs, the whines, the moans, spurring, invoking, inciting him onward, until his mouth drifted against the pale outline of her neck again, intending for the mewls to continue while his hands wandered. Tracing, stroking, like outlines and sketches on canvas, intending to tease and torment with light, ghostly trails; a contour along her hips, a calloused finger against her ribs, a palm inching towards her thighs.
His persistence only ceased at her mild protest, grumbling lowly in his chest as her fingers maneuvered through his hair, instinctually curling and coiling into the motions without thought. Were his mind not engaged upon desires and needs, he might have rolled his eyes. Instead, his lips taunted just above hers, the huff of a laugh prospering against her skin. “Same to you,” and truthfully, she was wearing more than he was. But the Sword could fix that.
He moved, teeth grazing the shell of her ear, before dragging their way down to the strings of her bikini, and neatly pulling, plucking, their knotted ends out.
who we were before bones, before dirt, before even light
we have always been deep, restless souls
we have always been deep, restless souls
