Slid into the night

Stevie Ray Vaughan - Little Wing

So it was.  Jordan softly slid into the night.  Eyes closed body arched sublime, to his touch.  His feel.  The trace along her neck.  A gentle bush moving back hair that prevented his gaze along the border so soft, so ripe, so heated.  It longed for his touch.  Her eyes were closed, but desire was boiling, for his touch.  The heated trace, soft, slow burn, across her face.  His movements were sure, in a pressing touch. 

Slowly he approached the prize of her heated lips burning.  Passion boiled out from every pore, as she longed for so much more.  His lean.  An eternity held in the microseconds pause until he crossed the unbearable distance unseen and placed his lips on hers.  The fire only rose.  She arched hungrily into him.  She longed to devour that which she had so long waited for, to die in his embrace, so that she could be born again.  Hands pulled the other close. 

Followed by the grind, the arch, soft... slow... burning.

The touch... soft slow... burning.

Each and every contact... soft... slow... burning.

The gentle burning death....

To live again.

As the touches, moves, turned to the primal.  In touches responding only to the other, bodies spoke volumes in a language unspoken.  In the movements of the night... the two melded into one...

Soft...

Slow...

Burning.