DEIMOS
The Sword had never been an individual with a means to rush; not unless the world before him was a battlefield, and there were hordes of enemies and opposing forces to decimate. These moments were none of those things, and there was going to be a day, at some point, where he’d be capable of cultivating her frenzy for more than these zealous and ardent fixtures.
Though he couldn’t help but laugh again, muffled into her shoulder, at the emboldened, frenetic need bestowed between them, shaking his head idly, mouth going to her ear to tug mischievously. Otherwise, he was preoccupied with movements and motions; a ripple of his skin maneuvering beneath her touches and fringes, driving him onward with thrusts that lingered, rather than becoming fraught with desperation. An intensity to his devotion, promises in those convictions and controls; purposeful, meaningful. “After you,” was another figment, a long moan extended across the breadth of her neck.
Though he couldn’t help but laugh again, muffled into her shoulder, at the emboldened, frenetic need bestowed between them, shaking his head idly, mouth going to her ear to tug mischievously. Otherwise, he was preoccupied with movements and motions; a ripple of his skin maneuvering beneath her touches and fringes, driving him onward with thrusts that lingered, rather than becoming fraught with desperation. An intensity to his devotion, promises in those convictions and controls; purposeful, meaningful. “After you,” was another figment, a long moan extended across the breadth of her neck.
who we were before bones, before dirt, before even light
we have always been deep, restless souls
we have always been deep, restless souls
