Lion Head Mesa [sc] root & gut

khusobek needed no further bidding. his love was not compelled by words, but by the warm tumble of her slim arms about him, the curve of her hips between his hands; in these moments she flashed with cactusfire and the lowlight storms which drenched the sands.

a khamsin; she burned as he kept them both at the very seat of their mingled power, gritting her name into the softpetal ears and commanding from her ensnared throat that she say his own;

inji's entire soul stood resplendent in her eyes.

he waited for her exhale and threw them both from the very top of the proverbial falls, losing himself at last to the intensity of feeling that made even his very spine feel as if it might break.

for a long moment he only lay there with her in the grass, hearing the chanting softly behind, the voices of others weaving with one another. the scent of wine, a woman's laughter.

he rumbled; he kissed her face, her throat, depleted and yet so wanting, hunger sharpened at the very sight of inji lying resplendent and languid with pleasure.