DEIMOS
the fire can't touch me
for I have burned too many times
for I have burned too many times
There were multitudes of scars and lacerations embedded in that statement, and he turned slightly, head over his shoulder, to study her. Both had long since meandered around the art of self-deprecation, but his brows furrowed just the same, histories intermingling through the webs and discretions of time. Careful and meticulous, he chose a safer alternative than diving headfirst into something that either didn’t need healing, or had been left on its own for too long. “I can hardly imagine,” he countered eventually, with a wry grin. Another Wessex sounded like a nightmare, and another Evie – “Just one of you is enough.”
Unbothered and unabashed in either his stripping or her watching, he placed the towel along the rack, reaching outwards, turning the shower on, and listening to the assailment of water press into resin. Waiting for the droplets to heat without his incantations, he shifted, piercing eyes taking her in again with the roguest of smirks. In the same shameless veil, the gaze held fast to the outline of her rampant display, his feet slowly, steadily, leisurely, maneuvering across the floor. A favored progression; the taunting, the teasing, melding and molding away distances with covetous, fleeting moments. Mere and minor indulgences, before either partook.
“How strange,” he murmured, closing any gaps with a brush of his finger over the hem of her pants. “Still overdressed though,” a deepening rumble over the echoes of cascades, the twitch of a smirk, the glide of his other hand coming to rest along her cheek. Lowering his head so his mouth brushed over hers, another provocation flickered, in between breaths, with a laugh to follow. “Shall I tell you about the Dragoon I met then?”
Unbothered and unabashed in either his stripping or her watching, he placed the towel along the rack, reaching outwards, turning the shower on, and listening to the assailment of water press into resin. Waiting for the droplets to heat without his incantations, he shifted, piercing eyes taking her in again with the roguest of smirks. In the same shameless veil, the gaze held fast to the outline of her rampant display, his feet slowly, steadily, leisurely, maneuvering across the floor. A favored progression; the taunting, the teasing, melding and molding away distances with covetous, fleeting moments. Mere and minor indulgences, before either partook.
“How strange,” he murmured, closing any gaps with a brush of his finger over the hem of her pants. “Still overdressed though,” a deepening rumble over the echoes of cascades, the twitch of a smirk, the glide of his other hand coming to rest along her cheek. Lowering his head so his mouth brushed over hers, another provocation flickered, in between breaths, with a laugh to follow. “Shall I tell you about the Dragoon I met then?”
the sea can't harm me
for I have been drowning all my life
for I have been drowning all my life
