Each new day brought growing light, longer time and last of day. In the bright of greater light, their love remained and made; unhidden, unsaved for only dark of night.
In high of sun, he lain with her on floor before the hearth, gentle of touch and finger’s trace to her open body warmed of sun and the two-heart heat.
He loved. He adored. Both she knew: in way of touch, way in eyes, way of show and not just say.
Low and gentle, he traced to her line. Soft press of her, faint rock and rise, she parted to his touch.
Her hold of him to neck, low-draw of his face for kiss, her soft suckle to tongue as finger’s gentleness remained; she in press, soft rock and split, warm on touch’s trace.
She loved. She adored. These he knew: in way of touch, way in eyes, way of show and not just say—soft press and rock, warm split upon.
Gentle, loving, they adored in heat of the two-heart flames.