// welcome to paradise //
They arrive with all the grace and beauty and sensuality that burns into Sunjata’s skin. Warmed by their presence despite the cooling air of Leafchange upon them, surrounded by a variety of offerings that have been left by the people of King’s End and himself. Their amusement reflects in him, the crooked smile on his face blooming as they admire the silk wrapping of the shrine. “We’re grateful for you.” He murmurs with a hint of pride that slips from the well coveted portion of his chest that has always made it a bit harder to express himself in the past.
He's just as happy to move past the mention of the Family, shrugging it off like lint that has nothing better to do but statically cling. He likes to think he’d managed the condition he’d received from the infection well enough these days to not let it plague him completely. And luckily for him, Frey offers a clever distraction that would always get his attention.
Feeling the pressure of Frey’s fingers where it’s reflected in the Flood’s pants, it sparks a flush that patches itself across his freckled cheeks and tattooed neck, an indulgence he leans in with a quick huff of breath as if it could steady him (it can’t). Such that when they glance over and draw closer, he’s helpless in how he responds to their delight. “Thanks to you.” He murmurs softly, leaning up and into his god’s space, shifting his legs to allocate for the arousal trapped in tight pants. “These days it feels like second nature.” Comes the playful and gentle tease, a voice roughened by the heat Frey’s presence gives. "And I'm always happy to have an excuse for worship."
He's just as happy to move past the mention of the Family, shrugging it off like lint that has nothing better to do but statically cling. He likes to think he’d managed the condition he’d received from the infection well enough these days to not let it plague him completely. And luckily for him, Frey offers a clever distraction that would always get his attention.
Feeling the pressure of Frey’s fingers where it’s reflected in the Flood’s pants, it sparks a flush that patches itself across his freckled cheeks and tattooed neck, an indulgence he leans in with a quick huff of breath as if it could steady him (it can’t). Such that when they glance over and draw closer, he’s helpless in how he responds to their delight. “Thanks to you.” He murmurs softly, leaning up and into his god’s space, shifting his legs to allocate for the arousal trapped in tight pants. “These days it feels like second nature.” Comes the playful and gentle tease, a voice roughened by the heat Frey’s presence gives. "And I'm always happy to have an excuse for worship."
the flood
// where me and you can always hide //
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.
