Summary: He was molasses, slow and sweet, magic in his fingertips and tenderness in his soul.
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Warmth, exuding from skin glimmering golden in each meager moonbeam.
Each measured exhale against your throat spread goosebumps over burning flesh, each careful caress dragging you further under his spell.
Slowly, ever so slowly, building mountains from your softened bones laid bare before him. His for the taking, surrendered sweetly to supple lips and the steady heartbeat of the rain outside, the pounding of your heart.
Sheets rustling; galaxies created and shattered with each stuttered breath, each measured movement.
Symphonies of sighed encouragement, broken by thunder but ceaseless in their echoing waves.
Sunlight would find obligations to keep you apart. Separate sequences tempered with small moments, clock consistent in its ticking.
But the Moon sees no such rush, no such crush or quickness. Only two souls basking in her rays, time nonexistent as they slip together.
The Moon knows her children. And stars are meant to shine in the night.
