Lion Head Mesa tenth

there it was: the yielding.
it was the gods' own irony that ramesses should be so inebriated as to not notice he had gotten what he wished. he was enamoured with each touch, the overwhelming pleasure of it, how the contact seemed to delve into her heartbeat, her breath.
he wound her into his embrace, sure that if he paused he would lose the thrumming golden line connecting them now.
and so pharaoh listened with every fibre of him, approaching a proceed but ready to draw aside at a moment's resistance.