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The cage had steadily worn him down for years. It had been a prison that he could not see, smell, or touch—a prison for his mind and soul. On slow walks him from work, he had often noticed the bright auras around newly found couples and been reminded of what he had lost through something unexplainable. He could not remember when or how it happened. One day the prison was just there. It had come like a burglar at night. Only this uninvited guest never left. From that day on he began to fall apart and rot. Old hobbies were not as exciting. Life in general was not as exciting. She was not as exciting.<br/>
<br/>
Perhaps it no longer mattered. They were both liberated from and by each other. But at what cost? The price should not have been what it was. One could weep in regret or move forward with determination. The two had chosen to do the latter and been rewarded in return. The future was uncertain within the new parameters of their life. Whatever the outcome of their predicament was, circumstances could never be what they once were. Nor did they want for them to be the same. He knew with absolute certainty that the old way of things was undesirable for him. His only wish was for her to feel the same.<br/>
<br/>
Every passing second lay the foundations for a new language. The endless feedback of sensation, though, and spiritual energy heightened their awareness of each other beyond anything they could imagine. Did they even have to speak? What he desired, she knew before he could say. What she desired, he could sense before she could utter. Every sound that escaped her was the essence of what he wanted to hear. It did not matter if the sounds were coherent words or noises. They perfectly described his perception of reality. The only question was how far down memory lane that she wanted and was willing to go. They had performed many questionable acts in their youthful years. And many of those would never have resurrected within the prison that they had both been confined to. He could think of one such act.<br/>
<br/>
Her enthusiasm and assisting motions were no longer a surprise. The huntress had been set free to roam alongside her beast. The force of her grip and delight of her dance to his rhythm spurred within him to that all so familiar point. But it was not time yet. The man slowed himself and allowed her flesh respite and moment to adjust before he removed. He sunk down onto the heated tiles beside the feminine but exhausted body. The reach of his determined hands slithered across the texture of her back. He took her close to feel the moisture and sound of her fatigued breath. Their drunken eyes met with fervent passion. They had not seen each other for many years. But even then there was another sight he had dearly missed. The days when the huntress herself had been trapped for the beast to do with as he pleased had been long forgotten until now. That would be what he would prey upon until ecstasy.<br/>
<br/>
The man assisted the frail limbs of his wife upright. He took her entire frame into his embrace to carry out of the steaming shower, which would shut down after a few moments when not detecting motion. Heated air formed a cocoon around the pair. The man carried her close to his presence akin to the heroes of the old west handling the damsels. He put her still reflective skin on the bed and retrieved a specific item from one of the duffle bags of gear that they had acquired earlier. She knew what was coming the second he showed it to her. Hundreds of images of the past soared through his mind, as it probably also did hers. The memories of those days nearly overwhelmed the feedback of emotion through their sensory link. He made a subtle gesture with his hand for her to turn around and assume the position. The position that she knew all too well—sitting on folded legs and arms behind her back.<br/>
<br/>
His motions and tugs with the material were harsh and determined. The knots and lines were pulled tighter and firmer than usual. His hands moved with expert precision and speed. Each motion of her flesh responding to the invasive act send shivers through his spine and across his entire frame. The urge brewing within him roared with fiery passion and ferocity. His desire violently pulsated with crimson vitality. When the denial was complete and the masterwork lay before him, a deep breath escaped him. <a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fi.imgur.com%2FIxHB7es.jpg&amp;hash=88fa2d469be5bd19abffebf5b29f4bff" href="https://i.imgur.com/IxHB7es.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">He beheld his creation and it was marvelous.</a> The old ways had been resurrected. His hand clamped down on her folded and snared flesh until she would utter sound underneath the pressure.<br/>
<br/>
She knew what he expected. Struggle to turn her frame around with the strength of his arm pressing upon the arms at her back was the ritual of those memories. And then upon success her lips against his raging and aching lust. Of course, all was different now. They would experience the ancient act in entirely new light. The sensations that surged through her frame with the restricting material against her echoed throughout him as well. New, unfathomable hues and piercing shapes emerged from the sounds that they created. The aura around her head had split in two, divided between brilliant yellow and brooding purple. Seeing her struggle and listening to her whimpers stirred outlandish sensations that rippled across mind and soul. It was a delightful symphony of contraries. On the one hand he saw the young girl he once loved, but on the other he saw the grey wife who had lost his son. The punishment was a duality. It was flowing with both adoration and scorn.<br/>
<br/>
When her lips were within reach, the man forced his throbbing flesh inside with a powerful thrust that instantly assumed violent rhythm. His arm remained firmly against the folded and trapped arms at her back to apply pressure against her frame. “Be a good girl, princess.” His tones sent shockwaves through her bones, as he clamped down on her nose with his other hand and pressed his thick flesh as far down her throat as it could go. He held fast until crystals formed at the edge of her lids and ran down her cheeks. He held fast until her limbs began to show signs of deprivation by spasms. He held fast until she tried to plead for released through her filled vice. The lines between love and hate were dubiously blurred.<br/>
<br/>
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