Date: 2024-03-27 12:52 am (UTC)
27_53: (something like an angel)
From: [personal profile] 27_53
Every one of his senses misfires in tandem (he's kissing her and he hasn't forgotten the need for air, it is just that he doesn't need to breathe as her energy flows through his veins, her Karma washing over him) and his mind loses focus, his body taking over.

(Somewhere amid the violent winds of the Karma storm, Skellig's mind reverts simply to Before; a space that exists trapped in the murky haze that clouds so many of his memories. Before he had a calling, before he had a purpose, before he knew who he was to be.

Before he had a name.)

This is not something that a man or creature truly needs to be taught how to do. It is older than life itself, the act. It has changed over the ever-shifting sands of time, but it is still basic. Her voice no longer registers in his ears, his hearing dropping away to a rush of static, but he just knows what she wants, what she needs - harder, faster. This is basic instinct, survival, and more importantly pure, white-hot pleasure that is overtaking every fiber of his being, soaking deep into his soul.

He may be safe in the eye of the storm, with her. But the hurricane rages furiously at the edges of his mind, pulling him closer as it grows in intensity.

She is pinned to the mattress beneath him as he ravishes her, freely allowing (is it allowing, if he has no ability to control it any longer?) his Light to collide and crash with her Karma, feeding both their energies at once.
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