It's like fire, like all consuming flames. It flickers and burns her skin in delightful, painless heat. Teeth find give in delicate skin, and claws come out, blood is drawn. Neither care, how could they? How could anyone? Lost in a blur of flesh and sensation. If only it were endless, if only they'd never have to stop touching each other. Her ankles are locked behind him, holding him there, close. His teeth and lips seek out the bare skin of her neck, and her nails tear down his back. The noises that escape her are almost weak in their pleading nature, animalistic in their unapologetic pleasure. It's like being in free-fall, desperate, terrifying, and thrilling. It starts as a low thrumming, deep and hidden, and builds like a flood against a dam. With another push, the dam breaks, and she's consumed with the perfection of the feelings as they overtake her. She tightens around him, and it's a shock, an unexpected treat. Something's said, and she knows it was her that uttered it, yet can't understand it for the life of her. Speech is a distant memory, unimportant, and unrelated to the present. It makes him smirk, however. It's a joy when she loses it, any control over her own pleasure. It's like he's been handed the keys to her existence, given the deed to her body.

It's hard to say she cares, as she comes down from her high, the rhythm never slowing, and almost pushing her over the edge again. It's easier to focus, now, on the simple bliss that is intimacy. It'll have to be his, next, as each must get their own. Fair's fair. There's a shift, and she's got more control, but has to grit her teeth to keep from falling apart again. If only it didn't feel so flawless. If only she could keep herself levelheaded. It's fast approaching, and there's a sudden increase in pace, gasps, moans, curses, and flesh on flesh echo through the room. One more, and it's done, and the moment is suspended in a state of perpetual perfection. It's such a shame to be apart again, when moments ago they couldn't be closer. She'll feel the ache of emptiness until he's there again. Aching muscles and bruises act as a reminder, and will for days to come.