// call out in the middle of the night
for when else would I hear you? //
for when else would I hear you? //
A hum of a laugh leaves him as she rescinds her joke, only because of his agreement. It keeps that amusement flickering on his face, even as he starts to tease her over what she could do here. A part of him wonders if she’d be interested in a council position, one that he might bring up when she’s finally done with her Halo duties. As it stands right now, talk of King’s End and ruling it can wait.
And it’s only because he has her in his arms, a warm and roaring bonfire that blooms with food forgotten off to the side (at least it wont burn). And it allows him to take in her assurances through the attuned bond, half shivering with hearing them in such a private way. And so, he dives in, pressing into the kiss easily, deepening it where he can, shifting them ever so slightly so that he can rotate them and lay her back against the blanket that covers the sand they had been sitting on.
It's similar to the very first time they had done this – back in the Grounds, in the basement of the Devil’s Advocate’s. But he tries to not let that thought linger too long, not as he breaks the kiss and trails it to her collarbone, hands warm as they trail up the outside of her thighs to her hips, setting himself between her legs as a shiver races down his spine with her hands threaded through his hair. It’s a shiver that morphs into his most sensitive shift, horns curling around his skull, wings flaring and blotting out the bonfire’s reflection as he uses them mainly for balance, the horned tips sunk into the sand. And likely, because his draconic instincts are warring with him, he can’t hide the way his attuned voice is rougher, the way a quiet yet instinctual claim is made when he says mine.
And it’s only because he has her in his arms, a warm and roaring bonfire that blooms with food forgotten off to the side (at least it wont burn). And it allows him to take in her assurances through the attuned bond, half shivering with hearing them in such a private way. And so, he dives in, pressing into the kiss easily, deepening it where he can, shifting them ever so slightly so that he can rotate them and lay her back against the blanket that covers the sand they had been sitting on.
It's similar to the very first time they had done this – back in the Grounds, in the basement of the Devil’s Advocate’s. But he tries to not let that thought linger too long, not as he breaks the kiss and trails it to her collarbone, hands warm as they trail up the outside of her thighs to her hips, setting himself between her legs as a shiver races down his spine with her hands threaded through his hair. It’s a shiver that morphs into his most sensitive shift, horns curling around his skull, wings flaring and blotting out the bonfire’s reflection as he uses them mainly for balance, the horned tips sunk into the sand. And likely, because his draconic instincts are warring with him, he can’t hide the way his attuned voice is rougher, the way a quiet yet instinctual claim is made when he says mine.
the flood
// fall out in the cold starlight
i can save you if you do //
i can save you if you do //
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.
