When I shut my eyes straining to put myself to sleep, it’s not the darkness that engulfs my senses, rather the rustling of sheets, fragrance of heat clouds my whole existence. Wait, does heat have any scent. I’m making up things, right?
It’s the scent of smouldering embers between the two entwined bodies and soul, desires being razed and grazed, insatiable hunger clawing into the skin, ripping it into mere shreds of passion spent.
The expression of primal emotion and feral intensity of the gaze following every curve and bend. Yes, I remember the scent of fire burning two souls, I have just figured it out.