Swiftcurrent Creek Indigo

“Akavir,” she intones, but does not dissuade him. Her mouth parts beneath his kiss and when he speaks the same sibylline confession she shudders-

She knew if they submitted to one another it would be the natural order of things; this advent of lust and momentary pleasure. She could pretend to take refuge in his arms, but come morning he would return to his river and she’d lose this moment to an illusion of starlight. Life was not this dream; dreams do not exist.

But his flesh exists. The feel of his mouth charting her curves exists, and also the way her urgent pulsing rekilned between her legs.  She slips from his arms and lets out a slow breath, sifting her chin sensually down his jaw into his nape, seeking his scent. Her mouth disappears into strands of dark fur, her body pushes into his flank shamelessly.

She wanted him. She wanted to be engirdled by black smoke and swept into utter night. It was different from before, this was a need so strong it was almost painful-

But it was different, too, from all the lovers she’d taken to her bed; from all the ways she had detached herself from pleasure.

There was meaning for her.