[RQ] this kind of freedom

DEIMOS

His teases and taunts, no matter the setting, were always purposeful and direct; a goading, inciteful, kindling, stoking fire. Sometimes for simple amusements, sometimes for moments like these, to bring her to a line and tether, drawn and eager, fervent and ready. Breathless, unwinding, unfurling noises, contorting to a rhythm of heedless and wanton abandon, only entertained and amplified him more, a rousing disposition to accompany her sighs and hums and moans.

It became an exercise in his own control as shorts slid away and strings came undone, kicked off and somewhere else along the pool – indifferent to their cause at the moment. He did smirk at the pattern of their behavior, echoes of years before. More water pooled around them, churning and shifting, as if he’d forgotten the task and suddenly recalled, as temptation meandered closer and closer. His own chorus of sounds echoed – an intake of breath as her mouth ran over his ear, a shuddering moan as her hands made their way through his hair, chasing after those clamors with each feverish second.

Intent drummed along his fingertips too, as one hand wrapped around her waist, keeping her aloft, while the other drifted towards her thighs, soft brushstrokes of calloused palms and long fingers; waiting for the rush and fervor to pitch.

who we were before bones, before dirt, before even light
we have always been deep, restless souls