i was raised as a scorpion
being pulled by the moon in a high tide
being pulled by the moon in a high tide
“Then it’s all the more important, I'd say?” He retorts softly, a small smile tugging on his face in the space between them. If Niki hasn’t done much more than this, then Sunjata figures they should savor the moment, not going too far to rush it into something Niki might decide he doesn’t want. And for Sunjata? He’s flexible enough to do whatever it was the other man wants.
His own hands are soft and gentle where they rest against the necromancer’s sides, happy to be perched here between his legs, smirking a little to hear the fired back response. It’s an easy answer if Niki gave him time to say it, that he wants whatever Niki wants, and around and around the circle would go again.
But he saves them both from it, with the near whisper that Sunjata has zero difficulty hearing. “Then we won’t be afraid.” He hums softly, withdrawing slightly to slip his shirt off. He doesn’t go further than that, bunching it up in his hands and dropping it gods knows where. It leaves him there between Niki’s legs, scars and tattoos on display, each branching arcs of the lightning strike scar creeping toward his heart, broken up only by the dark navy feathers that spread across his shoulders. And this close, it’s very obvious the northern point of the compass is aimed directly at Niki.
He snags Niki’s hand in his own, lifting it to his lips to press a kiss to his wrist, before he places it against his neck as if to help him start the journey, before he’s giving his own hands a trajectory on Niki’s body. The one on his braced leg stays soft and easy, grounding, while the other reaches to dip beneath the evergreen cableknit sweater to brush his fingertips softly against his warm skin. “Do you want yours on or off?” He asks of the sweater, his steel gaze scanning over his face, happy and content for either choice.
His own hands are soft and gentle where they rest against the necromancer’s sides, happy to be perched here between his legs, smirking a little to hear the fired back response. It’s an easy answer if Niki gave him time to say it, that he wants whatever Niki wants, and around and around the circle would go again.
But he saves them both from it, with the near whisper that Sunjata has zero difficulty hearing. “Then we won’t be afraid.” He hums softly, withdrawing slightly to slip his shirt off. He doesn’t go further than that, bunching it up in his hands and dropping it gods knows where. It leaves him there between Niki’s legs, scars and tattoos on display, each branching arcs of the lightning strike scar creeping toward his heart, broken up only by the dark navy feathers that spread across his shoulders. And this close, it’s very obvious the northern point of the compass is aimed directly at Niki.
He snags Niki’s hand in his own, lifting it to his lips to press a kiss to his wrist, before he places it against his neck as if to help him start the journey, before he’s giving his own hands a trajectory on Niki’s body. The one on his braced leg stays soft and easy, grounding, while the other reaches to dip beneath the evergreen cableknit sweater to brush his fingertips softly against his warm skin. “Do you want yours on or off?” He asks of the sweater, his steel gaze scanning over his face, happy and content for either choice.
the flood
that's why i'm broken, yeah,
am i a villain or a saint?
am i a villain or a 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.
