#authur?

It was her command that halts it, it is her voice that lures him into this sense of satisfaction, though he knows that she is not sated. Burning embers make up the glossy depths of her golden eyes, wet lips invite him to a private rendezvous laced with poison. Death awaits him there, but he would gladly let the fires of hell devour him for a sample of divinity. 

The guttural growl is bestial, something unrecognizable as his nightingale croons her desire to him; a foot is against the curve of his shoulder, her mouth coaxes him with promises he knows would lead to his damnation, but he believes, and prays at the mercy of sunkissed flesh. He finds his heaven is made of velvet, betwixt the silken flesh of her thighs, but she denies him.

But it only encourages him to pursue further still, for the yearning burns him to ash from within.

With every imprint of heat left along the curve of her legs, a kiss marks the journey that he prays would lead him to a destination of delights. Her spell is woven into her skin, he reads her like braille and finds his muse burning most ardently for him; he is learning of what desires are left unspoken in the air between them, but words are meaningless in the language of the flesh.

Any burdens that tormented him are dissipating at the sigh that he hears, it melts from her bloodstained lips - but envy is found in his eyes as the sunlight dares to grace her where his lips had yet not. Fingers sink into flesh marred by war, yet the canvas to him is beautiful even when she believed it destroyed, he could paint it with the colors of sin.