SUNJATA
the flood
with every breath and every intake
tip toe further away
tip toe further away
Rough calloused hands roam her skin, burn against her as he burns with her, not soft or smooth in the slightest with the way he molds her how he wants her to be. Her hips lift and he drives himself deep into her, groaning against her skin, holding on with teeth and kisses as she moans loudly. And he burns so much from it, not pausing as he begins to thrust at a quickening pace, growling and moaning his own approval to the way she clamps around him, the way her hands and nails roam against his tattooed skin.
Her words reach him, foggy at first, before they register and he pulls up from her neck to look at her with a glazed look about his eyes, a knowing smirk hinting at the corners of his lips. He reluctantly pulls his hand away from her hair to prop himself up easier, to shift his weight as he focuses on her and her lips, diving down with quicker thrusts to capture her lips with his own as if he could swallow the sounds they made together and save them for later.
But he breaks that deepening kiss before it can truly begin, aiming to rest his forehead along her own as he continues to burn inside her, slowing his greediness to something akin to tenderness in the soft slow strokes to drag his length along inside her. He searches her gaze, his own sparking with clarity. “I love you, Maea.” A hoarse, husky whisper. Loren had told him to tell her before it was too late — and he had been fearful of it, the word, the way it tasted on his tongue. But here? Here all he could taste was her and how happy he was to have her here, to burn and melt with her, to be with her.
Her words reach him, foggy at first, before they register and he pulls up from her neck to look at her with a glazed look about his eyes, a knowing smirk hinting at the corners of his lips. He reluctantly pulls his hand away from her hair to prop himself up easier, to shift his weight as he focuses on her and her lips, diving down with quicker thrusts to capture her lips with his own as if he could swallow the sounds they made together and save them for later.
But he breaks that deepening kiss before it can truly begin, aiming to rest his forehead along her own as he continues to burn inside her, slowing his greediness to something akin to tenderness in the soft slow strokes to drag his length along inside her. He searches her gaze, his own sparking with clarity. “I love you, Maea.” A hoarse, husky whisper. Loren had told him to tell her before it was too late — and he had been fearful of it, the word, the way it tasted on his tongue. But here? Here all he could taste was her and how happy he was to have her here, to burn and melt with her, to be with her.
further away from this mistake
i'm no savior, i'm no saint
i'm no savior, i'm no saint
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
