Apotheosis 

Forget want. This is need, a primal vibration thrumming beneath the skin, beyond thought, beyond reason. It does not bargain, it does not hesitate.

It is a hunger singular, searing, drawn toward the friction of flesh, the collision of muscle and heat that resists and meets me in equal measure. I ache to be filled, to surrender into the instant where craving is absolute, where the hollow within me is consumed, claimed, and rendered whole.

Desire here is not gentle. It is a ritual, a confrontation, a sacred unraveling — and I step into it fully, with nothing left to shield, nothing left to hide.