And if you were to reach for me…
Would you reach first for my hair on fire, my flesh-covered hand still reaching back for yours?
Would I cradle your gentle head to comfort you, your fears, to comfort me in doing so, so mother-like?
Or would you yank the strands of my ardent hair? Would you pull my head down close, reach to fuse my hand to your own bones as you kiss me, your swollen flesh cock aching, burning, wanting above all once more to lock inside me, to erupt now deep within my molten core?
Would I pull your filthy mouth hot to my breasts, urge you to suck my nipples hard, to bite me, take me, as I push your head closer, my body dissolving even as you melt into me, lust before it is lost, or found, forever? Now, here, even in this moment, this one last moment, would you become me, me become you?
Would I want so much? Would you die like this? Would you die devoid of flesh and body, would you die fucking me? Die in bliss bonding, die in heaven, die in death, together, die in death itself?