Cringe of Lightning

She meandered and sauntered, new joints suddenly visible in her seamless construction. Her original choreography made my lips curl into a sneer. She was the neon snake, flickering like lightning, I could not look away. I felt the heat on my face, the hot red and stellar blue, lips to eyes, and sun-tear hair. I fell into a rhythm, hunger and resent, step and flow, sensation and the gentle rake of teeth upon scented and oiled flesh. My eyes were closed, and I feasted on her neck, she on mine. My first date with a Fate this was not, though I didn't dare tip my hand. The rhythm, step and hunger, feast and resent, no matter how blurry my sight, how dry my throat, the rhythm of her steps, the flash of broken neon, the cringe of lightning. Somewhere there was thunder.