He let the deep breath he took out, out into the silence of the night.
There was a smell and there was a vision, but what he really felt had nothing to do with his regular senses. He never really understood how something unheard and unseen, even unknown, would have such a sensual pleasure. He concluded that one never really is obliged to understand the source of this very supernatural gift of the nature; just like good poetry, good sex only remained wonderful when its complicated being was not disturbed by over-thinking.
He didn't really need to beat a confession out of it, things were beautiful as they stood, and he agreed to appreciate them from the point he was at. He knew nothing, and probably wouldn't want to learn anything at all.
He could almost taste the saltiness of his sweat. A little piece of her hair was strangling over her ears now, and as she looked at him from above, he felt crushed by her omniscient dominance. He especially liked it when she turned into almost a beastly creature during these heated nights: her perennial soft smile replaced by an evil grin, her lovely laughter replaced by angry and passionate grunting sounds, and her simplest motions, regularly adorned by absolute elegance, transformed into demanding action.
He could feel the potential in her, and that was the potential of an eagle in flight, with her prey in her sight, ready to hunt him down, yet waiting for the perfect moment to make the dive.
He didn't know when she'd hit him, but there was an extremely natural feeling to it -- and Lord, this bitter moment had the sweetness of heavens.
They were swaying together, almost as one organism, waiting for the Earthly reality to cut into their pleasure.
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