ʳᵒˢᵉ ˢᵖʳᴵᵍᵍᵉᵈ ﹗

[deathisarose]

as most of you can likely tell, i’ve decided to stray from tumblr in terms of rp, despite the lovely relationships i’ve made and those of you i’ve honestly adored writing with. overall, this place just isn’t the healthiest grounds for me, and it’s made such a huge improvement in my mental state getting away from somewhere that’s caused so much negativity and mental depreciation in the past.

i am still writing on another platform, so if any of you were perchance interested in where that might be and where we could continue writing with one another, feel free to pm me and i’ll give you the details : ) i wish all of you the best!

[deathisarose]

ofmurdering

       sometimes  dean  lays  awake  for  hours,   counts  the  number  of  people  whose  blood  drips  from  his  hands—-  always  runs  out  of  fingers  though,   always  runs  out  of  toes.   too  many  to  count.   there  are  so  many  names,   so  many  faces,   sometimes  he  can’t  keep  track,   and  they  get  lost  in  the  pain  of  it  all.   in  the  death  count  climbing  on  his  back.   that’s  when  the   g u i l t   sets  in,   the  ones  he  can’t  remember,   the  faces  of  people  he  meets  briefly,   that  he  can’t  save—-  even  if  they  aren’t  as  awful  as  the  ones  he’s  more  directly  involved  with.   the  women  he  loved,   the  ones  he’s  lost.   the  friends  he  couldn’t  keep—-  the  brother  who  runs.   bad  things  follow  dean,   and  he’d  like  to  say  he  cause  more  good  than  harm,   but  deep  down  he  knows  it’s  not  true. 

       lydia  isn’t  immune  to  his  type  of  disease,   the  plague  that  pours  from  his  skin.   it  may  be  true  what  she  says,   knows  the  risks.  .  .  knows  how  it  feels  like  him  to  LOOSE.   but  if  she  died,   he  thinks  it  might  be  the  finial  straw,   the  one  that  breaks  his  back.   there’s  no  return  from  that.   he  can’t  run  away,   but  he  can’t  stay,  and  there’s  nothing  in  between  for  him  to  choose.   ❝  if  i  lost  you—-.  ❞    he  can’t  even  bare  to  say  it,  think  it—-  it  hurts.   eyes  water,   and  he  presses  a  hard  fist  against  his  face.   ❝  i  can’t!  ❞   

and  while  he  lays  awake  beside  her,    she’s  left  curled  in  facing  to  his  spine  where  she  counts  the  notches  beneath  tanned  flesh,    wishes  nothing  more  than  to  press  her  lips  to  the  mar  of  scars  left  behind,    if  only  it  wouldn’t  give  away  that  she  was  no  closer  to  sleep  than  he.        she  can't  begin  to  number  the  nights  they’ve  shared  sleeplessly,    restlessly,    allowing  eyes  to  bat  closed  when  he’d  turn  to  her  and  pull  her  against  him,    as  if  to  remind  himself  that  in  that  moment,    for  now,    she  was  his  and  she  was  safe.       she  knows  it  isn’t  only  the  grief  of  her  that  he  carries,    that  many  other  losses  are  carved  into  his  ribs  like  a  personal  catacomb,    but  she  holds  one  just  the  same.       and  perhaps  that’s  where  they  meet,    the  nights  they’re  together  and  find  sleep:     crossing  one  grave  to  another  to end  up  hand  in  hand. 

              she  doesn’t  know  how  long  she’ll  have  him,     won’t  know  the  next  time  he  leaves  whether  it  was  the  hand  of  fear  or  death  himself  that  had  taken  him,    and  she  doesn’t  know  if  she  can  do  it  again.      the  unanswered  calls,    texts,    how  they fade  to  strangers  whose  hearts  bleed  the  moment  he  shows  up  at  her  door  again.             ❝     i  know   . . .     ❞         and  despite  how  he’d  pulled  from  her  touch  before,    she’s  stepping  in  to  find  him  again,    and  she’s  not  going  to  let  him  shy  from  it,    not  this  time,    brows  threaded  and  fresh  glaze  of  tears  licking  hot  against  her  own  lashes.        she  finds  one  hand  to  his  cheek,    attempting  to  pull  him  down  to  her  while  the  other  ravels  the  white - knuckled  fist  he’d  risen  to  his  nose.            ❝    but  right  now  you  have  me.     i’m  right  here,    dean  . . .     don’t  let  that  be  nothing.    ❞            a  plea,    pitch  fracturing  within  her  throat.

[deathisarose]

nctafailure

            he’s taught her well.        he’s taught her to harness her power,     he’s taught her control.        he has given it to her.        so much benefit has come from it,     finding her knelt for him,      warm mouth eager to soothe his desires is only one of them.         when theo gives,     he will not do it for free.         once he comes to collect his dues,     he takes and takes and takes until he can’t.      until there comes that brief moment where he may perhaps be WILLING TO GIVE.         but in this moment,      he only wishes to take.        (    you owe him this,      sweet girl,      but you will be rewarded if you give him enough  !    )        she is right where he wants her,     so he lets the thoughts of lust and desire take over,     pushed away his need for dominance.        he has it.        fingers that are tangled in strawberry-blonde locks tighten as moans push from the back of his throat when she furthers her mouth down his shaft.        eyes threaten to close as his heart pounds     /     the sight is too sweet to look away from.        (    she is a beautiful girl     ;     but she looks better like this.    )        it isn’t until she has moved herself further down,     tip hitting her throat,     that his eyes do fall shut.         it allows him to simply feel.         louder moans fall from wicked lips at the constriction around him,     the tightness of her throat sending waves of euphoria through his body.        it’s impossible for him to stop himself from pressing his hips forward to increase the feeling of her throat resisting him.           ❛     fuck     —–     ❜           the vulgarity is groaned out as he feels the vibrations of her moan against him.        eyes open once more to stare down at the girl on her knees,     viewing the erotic sight as her lips begin to glide easily up and down him,      hand moving up to match.        such pleasure is evident in his gaze,      a need pooling in his abdomen as she works him so expertly     ;      every craving he has increases tenfold,     lips parted,      breathing heavy,      hand pushing to guide her at the speed he desires.           ❛    fuck,     kitten     —–     ❜           it’s moaned out again,     even more lustful than before.           ❛     you’re so perfect.     ❜           the way he stares at her holds so much desire that aches for her body.         there is so much he wishes to do to her     ;      but he wouldn’t dare to pull away.        he wouldn’t dare abandon the pleasure of her lips.

there's pride that clutches sweetly at her chest,    watching as wolfish boy pinned to the wall can’t help but to tip his head back,    lose himself beneath the velvet black behind his lids as those groans fall unceremoniously from his throat.        she revels in the sight,    the reign he has taught her playing so little a part in a girl whom had always known the hand of pleasure,    how to bring boys even as cunning and intelligent as theo raeken to his most vulnerable–––––         desire was a weakness,    A DISTRACTION,    but she intends to reward him in turn for trusting her with so hungered a task.        he needs this,    she can tell he does by the way fingers nestle tightly within copper locks,    how they guide smooth bobs at a tandem that will quite that which fell dormant to the heat coiling through him.        he has given her so much,    he only deserves the divinity of her mouth,    confidence that had flowered within her throughout their time together only furthering the grace with which she moves,    enjoys him,    and she won’t pull away until he’s decided he wants more.       nectar nearly drips betwixt porcelain thighs,    clasping together   &   causing roughened edge of lingerie to rub against sensitive bundle,    an edge she had come to crave within moan - laced nights they shared.        she knows he can see her,    the way she writhes where she’s kneeled,    attempting to grant herself friction he hasn’t given the permission to find;     but he should know of her deviance,    if anything in the bedroom.         lydia martin would play just as unfair a game to get what it was she pleased.        as tempted as she is to talk back to him,    coo up something sugary for him to linger on further,    she isn’t willing to stop just yet,    selfish for the precum that’s dribbled from his tip,    leaving a salty glaze to the back of her tongue.         pace grows all the more eager,    encouraged by the hand that urges her,    cheeks hollowing to another lively suck   &   tongue laving along stiff shaft each time she withdraws.     opposite hand draws nails along the inner of his thigh,    sighs drifting in quiet stutters through her nose,    relieved every so often with a particularly deep venture of his head against walls of her throat.        fist wrapped around his cock gives a pulse,    rotating her wrist while she works him,    tiny mews accompanying her tandem.

[deathisarose]

hisache

it’s  pathetic,        the  way  he  YEARNS  for  any  distraction  she’s  willing  to  provide  him  with.        he  just  wanted  to  feel  better,        to  have  his  mind  eased,        even  if  it  was  just  temporary.        he’d  settle  for  that relief.        so  long  as  he  was  distracted,        he  wasn’t  going  to  complain.        eyes  falling  shut  as  her  lips  meet  his  own.        his  hand  is  cautious  as  it  moves  to  gently  cradle  the  back  of  her  neck,        the  other  moving  to  rest  against  her  cheek.

it  may  have  been  rash,    to  assume  he  would  rather  be  found  against  candy  swell  of  her  lips  than  immersed  within  his  thoughts,    though  despite  the  hesitance  of  his  touch,    it’s  there.     fingertips  at  her  neck  send  a  silvery  zing  along  notches  of  spine,    blades  pinched  together  as  exhale  laces  into  the  cave  of  his  mouth.     only  slowly  does  she  allow  their  brims  to  part,    just  barely,    still  brushing  as  she  attempts  to  gage  whether  she’d  helped;    unwilling  to  go  further  should  matters  have  only  been  made  worse.     hues  flutter  open,    fixed  at  blushed  bow  of  his  mouth  before  searching  his  own  closed  lids.

[deathisarose]

bruiseblind

               ❛   you’re looking at me like you want an  intellectual  conversation and we both know i’m not here for that.   ❜

❝     what  is  it  you  are  here  for,    then,    kevin ?     ❞

[giffingskam]

[deathisarose]

giffingskam :

I need space to think. 

[deathisarose]

arsnist

                                      touch  is  hesitant  to  fall  away  from  her  own    ,    selfishly  seeking  the  comfort  it  brings  him     ,     no  matter  how  microscopic    .     how  it  infuriates  him    ,     to  be  so  full  of  fire  and  yet   only  truly  feel  warmth   when  he’s  with  her     ;     without  her    ,     he’s  left  hollowed  and  frozen     ,     &   uncomfortably  so     .     it’s  no  different  from  before    ,     before  he  met  her     ,     but  it’s   difficult   nonetheless  to  revert  back  to  after  she’s  proven  he  didn’t   have   to  feel  so  alone    .      ❛❛      you  don’t  have  to     .      you  can  go  if  you  want     .       ❜❜      how  could  he  blame  her  when  he’d   run   from  himself  if  given  the  chance    ?      ❛❛      i’d  just  like  it  if  you  didn’t     .       ❜❜

crowns  bite  back  the  responses  that  so  eagerly  await  her  tongue,        how  she  had  never  once  found  herself  desiring  to  leave  him,        but  only  felt  that  she  should.        she  doesn’t  want  to  go,        skin  burned  from  where  his  fingertips  had  brushed  free,        almost  as  if  an  apology  as  they  fled,        back  to  his  own  frame:        a  touch  he  doesn’t  know  what  to  do  with.         how  long  will  it  last ?        before he’s  crucifying  her  again,        claiming  her  needy,       weak,       forlorn  over  a  boy  she  cannot  have ?        heavy  lashes  kiss  the  uppers  of  her  cheeks,        wishing  to  evade  the  chill  of  the  room  by  curling  up  against  his.        she  turns  to  him,        hues  sorrow - dappled  and  warred  with  confusion,        but  nonetheless  a  willingness  to  fall  apart  for  him.            ❝     i  can  stay.     ❞

[deathisarose]

hisache

look  of  utter  despair  is  present  on  his  features,        he  couldn’t  coax  it  into  retreating.        eyes  slip  shut  as  her  thumb  sweeps  across  his  jaw,        sigh  passing  through  parted  brims.        what  could  she  do  ?        ❝      just  distract  me,     ❞        he  pleads,        opening  his  eyes  to  gaze  into  hers.

there's  a  sliver  of  clarity  amongst  the  raze  that  was  sorrow - wrought  boy  before  her,        reading  the  plea  that  melts  rim  of  his  iris’,       the  fist  wrapping  his  sternum.         there’s  only  a  small  pause,       then,       in  which  the  thunder  of  her  pulse  settles,        thumbs  giving  a  last,      steady  brush  before  she’s  meeting  cherry  lips  with  his.       it’s  soft,     fingertips  curling  at  his  jaw,        a  plea  of  her  own  what  haunted  him  to  swallow  her,        instead. 

[deathisarose]

@hisache

❝      i  just  don’t  want  to  think  for  awhile,      ❞       he  says,       averting  his  eyes.        thinking  HURT,        talking  hurt,       everything  hurt.        he  was  desperate  for  any  sort  of  distraction. 

 /      @deathisarose  liked.  /  src.

❝     okay,     ❞        

                    concern  knits  between  her  brows,    ducking  copper  crown  in  order  to  align  hues  with  his,    searching  betwixt  them  with  an  innate  tenderness,    thumb  giving  a  feather - lithe  swipe  along  boy’s  jaw.         ❝     hey,   i’m  right  here.     tell  me  what  i  can  do,   finn.     ❞

[sevastopoltales-deactivated2021]

Her flesh was a garden of mourning.

Hélène Cixous, Inside, Translated by Carol Barko (via aegeane)

[deathisarose]

vulpesvoid

       her love is both a strength and a weakness ;      a flame inside his heart which he takes prides in,      despite how it burned him for years.    there isn’t a single regret to further stain a burdened chest ;     not with her.      despite the guilt and agony that has shaped him for the past years;         despite the ache,     despite every single thing    ––    he’d do it all again just for the reward of her love ;     her touch.     those sweet ,     breathy moans and the feeling of her hands over his burning skin is driving him into an intoxicated haze.      he takes his time with her ;     lips kissing down her neck,     hands smoothly running over her body    –––     touching her skin like she is air and he cannot breathe.       the large shirt covering her is gently discarded a while later;     leaving her half naked beneath him.      and oh,     is she a sight for a boy spending night after night just dreaming of  her.       all of her.       he murmurs something under his breath;   ––––––– you’re beautiful.     or   was it a curse he couldn’t hold back ?    both.    it had to be both.     there is always more with her. 

         his own shirt is pulled over his head in a matter of seconds;     and soon he is dipping down again,       lips pressing a soft kiss to her rosy ones while hands smoothly run down her torso,      stopping when he reaches the border of her panties.    a shaky breath,        and foreheads touch ever so slightly    –––––     a mere moment of hesitation.    he catches the lust hooding her eyes;     the small breaths coming from parted lips ;     and he knows.   he knows it’s okay.    he knows it’s right.    –––––––   and it is.     he can feel it when his mouth is sucking pretty marks on her neck;     and two of his fingers steadily pump into her ;     feeling the warmth of her walls clamping down around his fingers.      he can’t help it ;  can’t help but to drown into her,   over and over again.    a new kind of heat washes over him ;   a dulled ache bolting through him and collecting in the tightness of is pants.  but he can’t focus on anything but her  ;   it’s always been her.

she's entrapped in a daze,    his touch scoring along arching ivory,    that sweet taste of his mouth she’d only gotten hints of,    and seemed to grow all the more saccharine each time she could delve for more.      she can’t help the way tongue curls into the cave of his mouth,    seeks his with a heady,    breathless desperation to feel him back.     it isn’t lost on her how she aches now,    with an unforgiving tenacity,    how he has for her far longer;    she doesn’t know how long it will take to dull the guilt for leaving him waiting while she blossomed,    rid of that sharp and inferior facade that had kept her away,    kept her falling into the beds of men who knew so little how to appreciate her,    instead.     she has to keep telling herself that she’s here,    now.     that he has her,    and oh,    he does so soundly,    so wholly for as long as he wants her.   

the moment his shirt is discarded,    small fingers clung to his back tug him closer,    hungry to feel his flesh bare    &    wanton against hers,    the way his pulse collides against chest that’s gotten so much broader than she can remember it.     how long had she not paid attention?     a toneless sigh escapes her as foreheads align,    scoring touch along blades of his shoulders,    around their curve to admire the plane of his chest.     he’s hesitating,    she knows he is because she knows him,    but she transcends everything she can to encourage him further beneath hooded gaze,    and then his fingers are curled inside of her,    blood rushing to the surface of flesh he suckles at with messy urgency.           ❝     god–––     stiles   . . .     ❞          she moans for him,    hips lifting from the mattress to roll into his hand once she’s adjusted,    finding herself clung to him now as cherry crown tips backward,    tiny crescents painted into the centre of his back,    nails biting in.

[deathisarose]

inbedwithboys :

I want to cry but i have things to do

[deathisarose]

ofmurdering

     it’s.  .  . UNFORTUNATE,  how  uneasy  he  feels,  still.  it’s  been  a  while,  he  should  have  adjusted.  but  old  habits  die  just  too  fucking  hard.  bad  things  happen  in  the  dark.  happen  to  the  unsuspecting—-  to  those  he   l o v e s.   sure  she  can  understand  but,  there’s  a  relentless  POUNDING  in  his  chest,  heart  refusing  to  slow  even  though  she’s  safe  and  sound.  standing  before  him,  unscathed,  unscratched—-  who  knows  what’s  lurking  around  the  corner.  what’s  got  it’s  eye  on  her.  it  isn’t  like  people.  .  .  it  isn’t  something  anyone  could  save  her  from.  things  would  KILL  her  before  thought.  and  he  can’t  loose  her!  he  breathes  deeply,  pulls  his  face  away  from  her  touch.

     ❝   i  don’t  know  how  to  do  this.  i  can’t  do  this—-  i  can’t—-   ❞

he withdraws from the gentle grace of her fingertips,    and there’s no hiding the wounded turn that takes to rosen lips;    how worry tucks itself between her brows where it so often lived.     she’s learned better than to take it personally,    how eagerly he detaches himself from anything soft,    anything that would love him–––     but if that’s what truly put her in peril,    his leave did little to protect her from it all.     nights still ached with him, whether in presence or absence,    and her own children of the maiden threat and her groom,    death,    plagued those times in which she almost believed he would stay.           

                  ❝     don’t   . . .     don’t do this again,    dean.     you can’t––––     you can’t treat me like i don’t know what’s out there,    like it wouldn’t be waiting for me just the same with or without you.     all i know is losing people.     ❞              the heaviness of her own statement startles tongue to a quiet press behind teeth,    fixing her jaw and attempting to draw back the tears that lick their heat along her lash line.     she doesn’t close the distance between them,    but she trembles with it,    wishing she were strong enough to keep herself in tact in the face of potentially losing him again.              ❝     i know the risks.     but don’t pretend they don’t come with me,    too.     ❞

[deathisarose]

my sweets! throughout the week i plan to do a thorough cleaning of lydias blog, including those i follow and what i have in my drafts. i will be extremely selective with what i am keeping and pursue from here on out, for my own health reasons and to truly enjoy writing my lil sweet pea. i will be unfollowing if we have never interacted or have not for quite some time, despite those of you i talk with somewhat regularly! in the mean time, feel free to sneak in my inbox if you'd like to plot, and i will be contacting those of you i have threads with and am continuing to see if it's still alright! thank you guys for your patience with me, i'm really just in need of a huge stress - clean for rp so i can really appreciate coming to it again.

[nehmesis]

[deathisarose]

nehmesis :

coffee & dead roses

[deathisarose]

arsnist

                back  turns  to  her     ,     hand  raised  to  rub  at  stubbled  jaw     ,      heavy  sigh  released  against  his  palm     .      how  easy  it  would  be  to   walk  away     ,     to  isolate  himself  from  her  until  he  couldn’t  bear  the  distance  any  longer     .     it’s  his  pride  that  stops  him     ,     throat  closing  at  the  word   coward     ,      refusing   to  be  seen  as  afraid  even  if  that’s   exactly   what  he  is     .     slowly    ,      slowly      ,      he  turns      ,      breathy      ,     mirthless  laughter  trembling  within  his  chest    .     ❛❛     you’re  right    .      you  didn’t  ask     .     i  hurt  him  because   i  wanted  to    .     because  that’s  what  i  do     .       ❜❜     unwilling  to  see  himself  as  anything  more  than  a  monster     ,      incapable  of  salvation       .       never  mind  the  fact  that  a   real  monster   wouldn’t  feel  the   guilt   he  does     .                       wouldn’t  feel  the  way  he  does  for  her     .

                                        ❛❛    so  what   difference   does  it  make  if  i   admit  it   or  not    ?      even  if  you  somehow            it  wouldn’t  work     .     we  wouldn’t  work     .       ❜❜      he’s  all  too  aware  that  he’s  implicitly  offering  the  confession  she’s  asking  for     ,      yet   convinced   that  so  long  as  he’s  not   direct    ,     he  can  always  take  it  back     .      ❛❛     so  it  doesn’t  matter    .      i’m  not  going  to  waste  my  breath     .      ❜❜

she's  tired  !        his  endless  hunger  for  suffering  ,     for  loneliness  that  boasts  itself  upon  sunken  features  ,     bruises  from  unkind  sleep  ,      trying  to  leave  his  anger  amongst  the  crippled  flesh  of  someone  weaker––––– –       but  it’s  still  his.        he  can’t  be  naive  enough  to  miss  that  her  standing  before  him  now  meant  something  ,      that  his  arrogance  could  only  be  cast  aside  for  so  long  ,     and  yet  still  she  hadn’t  rid  of  him.        

             his  words  are  a  knife.        decided  ,      ripe  with  an  agony  she  wishes  she  held  no  recognition  for  ,     but  she  does.        that  bone - sick  fear  that  getting  close  to  another  only  meant  their  hurt  ,      their  death  .        it’s  not  only  him  who  has  lost.               ❝      it  does  matter.        it  does  ,     no  matter  how  many  times  you  try  and  convince  yourself  it  doesn’t.        i’ve  tried.        ❞             /     tried  to  convince  myself  i  didn’t  want  you  ,     didn’t  care.        that  i  shouldn’t.     /        a  shaky  breath  ,      wintry  air  biting  at  her  skin  ,      unforgiving  as  their  grief.              ❝       look,    i ––––– –       i  don’t  know  what  will  work.        all  i  know  is  staying  away  from  you  doesn’t.       you  constantly  push  me  away  ,     do  everything  you  can  to  make  me  despise  you.       but  we  keep  ending  up  right  here–––– –   . . .      ❞

[deathisarose]

vulpesvoid

         don’t think ,  don’t think.        he has to remind himself,     because thinking only means losing grasp of the ( for once )     wonderful reality before him.       but no,     even that is wrong.      she’s a dream,      and he is the raw reality of all the flaws she could never have.     he allows himself to savor her presence,    scent,    warmth ––––touch.      the way her fingers press and knead over his neck,     desperate and needy for him makes him twitch in his pants.   breath hitching the moment soft,      plush lips wander down his jaw.    a low sound makes it past parted lips   –––      a mere shiver traveling down his spine at the innocent,     yet oh,      so devious plead to his ear.       ( and when ?  when has he ever been able to tell her no ?  )      

       large hands firm their hold on her hips,     pushing her down against the sheets with a light bounce,     and his own body is quick to tower over her ;    watching her while he attempts to catch his breath.     and once he does,  he forgets to breathe,   again.    the sight of strawberry blonde locks  sprayed over  his  sheets;  rosy lips puffy and swollen because of  him,  the light fabric of  his  shirt covering her figure    ( and his hands  dipped  beneath it,   holding  her. )   the  desire  in her eyes.    it’s too much.  he can’t take it.     he dips down for a hungry,   deep kiss,  still breathless,    but he doesn’t care.    he’d stop breathing for good if only he could kiss her like this forever.   ❛    i love you.  –––– so much.   ❜      he breathes whispers into her mouth;  a mix of breaths, lips and tongue, all while hands explore every inch of her skin ;      memorizing her.     

his body talks with her own :      yearning hips  ,    lurid mouths begging for that fulfilling flush.        that low  ,   rich sound that pulls from within his throat stays with her ,      trips across her breath in wanton flutter as familiar palms grip a bit snugger  ,      easily shifting her weight to fall atop the mattress.        fiery halo paints itself about her temples  ,     splayed out amongst dark sheets  ,     and for one seemingly infinite moment she is left to admire him above her  ,      revel in the sight  ,      recognize how damned she was for it      /     how surely she would beg for it again.        there had been a time when she marveled at the idea of a lover announcing such an affection in return  ;      still  ,     it causes pulse to flit  ,     something alive within her chest     –––––and yet with him  ,     she already knows. 

                               she needs him.       needs to feel him like this  ,     more  ,     a quietness displayed in place of otherwise eager fingertips  ,      with anyone else surely would have rid all remaining layers by now.         she wants to take her time  ,      polished nails curling miniature crescents at his lower back as they drift beneath t - shirt  ,     thrum beneath her chest rampant     /     all  for  him.                ❝      i love you.      ❞            had words been shared  ,     or had they only breathed  ?        need displayed once more as crowns sink into own plush of lips  ,     spine bowing from pillowed mattress  ,     seeking him.        opposite hand lifts to drag thumb across his fuller brim  ,      awed by the sight.        she wants his hips  ,     his mouth ,     everything he will give her.        all that’s left of her is a barely - there whisper of his name  ,     one more plea.