To Drown And To Be Buried

The hand upon your throat is but an afterthought; a lovely afterthought that throbs beneath my fingertips, beating an enticing rhythm to which we'd gladly dance were it not for hungry lips that cut in with their own interpretation of breath play.

The first breath is my own as I inhale the earth, the sea, the salt upon your skin, a scent so subtle I'm afraid that if I open up my eyes you'll disappear. My lips can take no more. This need to reach into the earth and draw the sea inside of me is driving me to drown and to be buried.

The next breath is yours and you wield it like a blade. You draw it sharp and make me gasp as it rises high and catches. There you hold it, your body arching upwards in an attack on my senses I can only surrender to as this hunger bears down, consuming me, I must devour you.

Breathe now. I want to feel you quivering, struggling to find the confident rhythm that left with your composure. It's only fair, I've lost all mine. reduced to instinct, i hold your throat and you are still, consumed by hunger, i lift you up and feed, your body taut between my hands as i attack without mercy.

You've yielded to that final hard drawn breath that moves inside you without release as you writhe in my clutches. This hunger bears down deeper still to taste the salt kissed skin, rising and falling in waves that bring the scent of earth and sea to life and to my hungry lips.

The tempest rages beyond fight or flight. Your will to survive gives way to mine and drowns within your depths. The floodgates spill over, washing up on the shore. The earth opens up and we are welcomed into the afterlife of bliss.