DEIMOS
The semblances of before, before, before might have echoed in movements and motions, but the focus on the present undulated through muscles, movement, desire, ardor, and appetite. He nearly laughed on an exhale, as she dragged herself closer and closer, limbs and hips intertwined, until it was lost in the rumble in his chest, freed in her silent pleas, in her lips pressing against his pulse, in the intoxicating explorations. The maps had been made and constructed and drawn well in advance, but the pathways never quite the same; just as stimulating and defying on touches of skin, on wanton tours, on rousing voyages. Her impatience felt like a formality he’d always toyed around with – like the strand of a bow, for as long as he could manage before her release.
One hand plumed on the arch and curve of her spine, while the other took its time in its audacious odyssey, winding along inner thighs, and then to her core. Eyelids fluttered closed for a moment, as his mouth maneuvered towards her neck, tracing along collar bones and muscles, an upward brushstroke of beard and brazenness, ever-taunting. He knew, but always asked, in case the yearnings, longings, and cravings changed. The grumble of his whisper slid against skin, a tug on the shell of her ear by teeth and tongue. “What do you want?”
One hand plumed on the arch and curve of her spine, while the other took its time in its audacious odyssey, winding along inner thighs, and then to her core. Eyelids fluttered closed for a moment, as his mouth maneuvered towards her neck, tracing along collar bones and muscles, an upward brushstroke of beard and brazenness, ever-taunting. He knew, but always asked, in case the yearnings, longings, and cravings changed. The grumble of his whisper slid against skin, a tug on the shell of her ear by teeth and tongue. “What do you want?”
who we were before bones, before dirt, before even light
we have always been deep, restless souls
we have always been deep, restless souls
