(no subject)
There was silence, with only the rage of the flame, inaudible, yet embodied by the gasping breaths of two figures as they struggled to take in their breath and the experience at the same time.
It was a celebration of the senses: Sight, Sound, Smell and Touch, with only Sister Taste missing the gathering.
There were eight small flames casting light upon the room: six cast by the rich vanilla candles scattered about, and two within the gasping chests of the figures reclining on the bed.
One hand slid into another, and a third into the fourth, a coalescing of skin and adoration and sincerity. And such began the brilliant dance of the two forms, with the amalgamation of hands and the ensuing inferno which spawned from their conjoining. Fingers skimmed the coarse plateau of a cheek, into a lush forest of hair, slid into the valley of the chin, and brushed against the mountainous range of the lips (which promptly returned a gift to its visitor). The four travelers continued to make their away across the terrains of the neck, chest and abdomen, never being content to stop their pilgrimage for more than a brief second, but instead continued on.
Blue Ice and Viridian Forest coexisted harmoniously, locked into each other in such a way to evoke the flames to tear through them both. The sight across the way from each set of glistening eyes was that of a radiant smile, like light bulbs lighting up the marquis of Broadway. And there was nothing that either could do to remove the beaming, for they were plastered there with such determination that not even the entirety of the Roman Empire could have torn them down.
The euphoric harmony of vanilla, deodorant and sweat bound together to create a scent so pungent as to stoke the inferno into a maelstrom of sensuality.
One of the figures shifted, smiled, and spoke, breaking the euphonic silence:
"You’ll have to forgive me, I just wanted to be able to see your face," started the form. "I just love starting at your face: I love trying to memorizing it. I love your eyebrows. I love your eyelashes. I love your eyes, and your nose, and your lips, and your perfect smile…"
"Oh really?"
"Yes, really."
"And do you want to know what I love?"
"Yes, I'd love to know what you love."
"You."
And the second body leaned in, and ever-so-simply placed a kiss upon the lips of the other. And the taste which passed from one lip to the other was the emotional coup de grace.
"I love you, too."
Then they nestled back into their hushed comfort, letting their senses frolic as they may. It was profound, sexless love-making... just the two figures, silence and sensation.
And this was only the beginning... the beginning to an end.
It was a celebration of the senses: Sight, Sound, Smell and Touch, with only Sister Taste missing the gathering.
There were eight small flames casting light upon the room: six cast by the rich vanilla candles scattered about, and two within the gasping chests of the figures reclining on the bed.
One hand slid into another, and a third into the fourth, a coalescing of skin and adoration and sincerity. And such began the brilliant dance of the two forms, with the amalgamation of hands and the ensuing inferno which spawned from their conjoining. Fingers skimmed the coarse plateau of a cheek, into a lush forest of hair, slid into the valley of the chin, and brushed against the mountainous range of the lips (which promptly returned a gift to its visitor). The four travelers continued to make their away across the terrains of the neck, chest and abdomen, never being content to stop their pilgrimage for more than a brief second, but instead continued on.
Blue Ice and Viridian Forest coexisted harmoniously, locked into each other in such a way to evoke the flames to tear through them both. The sight across the way from each set of glistening eyes was that of a radiant smile, like light bulbs lighting up the marquis of Broadway. And there was nothing that either could do to remove the beaming, for they were plastered there with such determination that not even the entirety of the Roman Empire could have torn them down.
The euphoric harmony of vanilla, deodorant and sweat bound together to create a scent so pungent as to stoke the inferno into a maelstrom of sensuality.
One of the figures shifted, smiled, and spoke, breaking the euphonic silence:
"You’ll have to forgive me, I just wanted to be able to see your face," started the form. "I just love starting at your face: I love trying to memorizing it. I love your eyebrows. I love your eyelashes. I love your eyes, and your nose, and your lips, and your perfect smile…"
"Oh really?"
"Yes, really."
"And do you want to know what I love?"
"Yes, I'd love to know what you love."
"You."
And the second body leaned in, and ever-so-simply placed a kiss upon the lips of the other. And the taste which passed from one lip to the other was the emotional coup de grace.
"I love you, too."
Then they nestled back into their hushed comfort, letting their senses frolic as they may. It was profound, sexless love-making... just the two figures, silence and sensation.
And this was only the beginning... the beginning to an end.