Victor let out another groan, pulling at the straps, finally, her teasing proving his undoing. The way she sucked, traced circles, the way their tongues were tied in closely elaborate tango in their mouths, it was all so vivid, the passion so enveloping. He was typically able to exert some degree of control, but he could feel his swim trunks tightening, and tried to focus on something else... Baseball, perhaps. The Yankees were having a--
They sat under a tree, cold breeze blowing past, leaves falling, ground near-barren. The sun was close to setting, and the had a dark scarf wrapped around her hair, golden curls not visible, though he could recall how they would glisten in the light of coming dusk. She was alone now, and the seasons would be particularly harsh this year, but he would do what he could for her. He played his lyre, plucking at the strings, singing for her...