Our eyes igniting, concealing pearls of obsidian, yours callow-green now lit with splintered thorns of amber.

We see a treasure trove of truths, a covenant of trust, each buried deep inside the other, our hopes and fears reflecting in the ornate oval of our mirrored imaginations.

My fingers grip, twisting the frail fabric of your thong, testing the delicate strength, the soft silk stitches stretching, pleading, reluctant to rip.

You feel the bite of their intimate lace tightening, resisting, my confident touch, so certain against your submitting skin.