Strong but unstable--one too brittle, the other overly soft--they spin the orbit of CI5. Like binary stars they glow, heat pulsing between them--a warm palm pressed against a shoulder, sultry glances exchanged over lunch--simmering promises of things to come.
At day's close they collide. This feeling, still so new, boils away reserve, reducing them to component parts--lusty passion fuelling volcanic desire. In furnace darkness, fiery touch builds on fiery touch, merging and consuming, sparking pleasure and consummating need. Only when quenched in sweat, can they rest, spent. Cooling, tempered. Alloy.
-- THE END --