Zazen zanshin
Air like sweat, body-hot and musk-rich. Every breath has weight, it flows in, fills up sweet richness, and then pours out. The muscles in my chest, in my shoulders, in my arms, are alive, they caress the air, my shirt, the bedding. My hands buzz, electric, like too much nicotine or caffeine, but pleasantly. Like raw, liquid passion quaffed from a chalice, dripping down my chin, trickling down my chest. This moment, it tastes. Like a rose petal should, just a hint of cloying-sweetness of wedding cake frosting, before champagne bubbles and strawberries freshness, clean, pure, magic.
Heat, and bodies, and sweat. Hers begins where mine ends, and every breath does too. I can feel her lungs breathing in the thick, heavy air. I can almost, just almost, not-quite-barely hear her heart beating. I can see her pulse in her neck, two beats, and a pause, and two more. Like an Arabian in full gallop, sleek and curved and powerful. Somewhere deep down in my spine, in my gut, lupine paws twitch, teeth purl, bite the pulse, bite the horse, chase the chase.
Eyes meet, heavy-lidden and fever-drunk, hungry. And hers duck. And the wolf growls. A feral baring of fang, pleasure almost pain. Brushing hands, gripping nails, needle-teeth nipping, chin-pinned and helpless. A moment that should never end...must. A tension builds, and the walls slip away, a tension builds, and there is no floor, higher, and we're not in a bed, higher, no longer human. A pure white streak, brilliant as ten thousand suns, illuminating a joy, brighter still...
K.
Heat, and bodies, and sweat. Hers begins where mine ends, and every breath does too. I can feel her lungs breathing in the thick, heavy air. I can almost, just almost, not-quite-barely hear her heart beating. I can see her pulse in her neck, two beats, and a pause, and two more. Like an Arabian in full gallop, sleek and curved and powerful. Somewhere deep down in my spine, in my gut, lupine paws twitch, teeth purl, bite the pulse, bite the horse, chase the chase.
Eyes meet, heavy-lidden and fever-drunk, hungry. And hers duck. And the wolf growls. A feral baring of fang, pleasure almost pain. Brushing hands, gripping nails, needle-teeth nipping, chin-pinned and helpless. A moment that should never end...must. A tension builds, and the walls slip away, a tension builds, and there is no floor, higher, and we're not in a bed, higher, no longer human. A pure white streak, brilliant as ten thousand suns, illuminating a joy, brighter still...
K.