The air grew thick with the scent of amber and warm skin, a heady perfume that clung to the dim light. His hands, slick and deliberate, moved over the slope of her back with the slow, inexorable pressure of a rising tide. Each stroke left a gleaming trail, a liquid map that caught the low glow of the room and turned her flesh into living, breathing marble. She arched into the touch, a low hum vibrating in her throat as the friction melted away, replaced by a seamless glide of palm agat shoulder blade, down the delicate curve of her spine. The world narrowed to this single point of contact, a universe contained within the slide of skin on oiled skin. He followed the path his fingers had blazed with his mouth, tasting the salt of her and the faint, exotic sweetness of the unguent. Her own hands found purchase on his slick shoulders, her nails tracing faint, possessive lines through the shimmering film. A deep, resonant shudder passed through them both, a silent language spoken in the shift of muscles and the shared, heated breath. In the quiet aftermath, they were two bodies polished to a high, perfect sheen, reflecting only each other in the deepening dusk.
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