Such an unnerving child you are, Mon petit.. you will be the death of my control...ever the obediently disobedient creation of Your deepest joys. It cannot be denied..
Languidly, there is a passing of breath that plays so sensually against the moisture in trace. Guided flesh, so sullen as it tastes of ivory, captured sinfully by the curve to lull the Devil into passive elation. It is unfair. Unequivocally provoked. A disgusting display of what tremors can shake the very core of all that rests within the kiss of lightened skies..leaving the shadows to breathe in their escape..
There is something beneath the surface. Something that stirs the waters, and tests the glorious display of power so driven against the soulless in easy diversion. Something that trickles along flesh encased in ragged disillusion, and fancies the heart a measure of symphony beyond earshot. It coils in vice, and threatens to steal what was lain in supplication. A fear to break the hearts of few, and bind the daring wisps of many in mind.
Were I more suited to tempt the fate of paths so drawn. Were I stronger in source, and less tangled in the woven chaos of ministrations so given beneath my chattered teeth..I may be graced with a steady hold to center what rattles the pleasantries. I may..just..