SUNJATA
the flood
'cause my life is like a bedroom door
don't lead me in when you feel low
don't lead me in when you feel low
Nate’s laughter and hard kisses are enough to spark red marks in their wake, in the way they travel up by his ear, and his spine shudders with the question, head tilting a bit toward Nate with a low hum slipping from his throat. “Absolutely.” He manages with a huff, a smirk crossing his face at the blatant lie. Nate may have prolonged things to the point where Sunjata had to beg for them, but he’d always given into him despite the challenges Sunjata posed back. And it shows in the way that Nate allows the attuned to move and adjust him, hands trailing and clinging along the pale skin, the gleam in his eyes of surprisingly wanting Nate to take a small amount of charge.
And with it, he trembles as Nate begins to move, as his voice colors the air and Sunjata follows the lead the Ascended offers — a trembling yet sharp inhale of breath as he zones in on Nate’s hand, on the pressure applied to his neck as the Ascended adjusts himself more and Sunjata does his best to brace — steel eyes dark enough to devour. And when Nate draws in a breath to steady himself (one Sunjata knows he doesn’t need at all) he does the same. And he watches with that primal, predatory gleam to his gaze that Nate knows all too well (having seen the hunger in the Ascended’s own electric gaze many a time) as Nate rises himself to sink down on him. A shuddering hum leaves him, a cross between a growl and a slight sigh of relief — hands slipping from legs to Nate’s own hips.
His head remains tilted back a small amount, the hunger in his gaze growing more intense as he spies Nate’s own gaze shifting — a difference that Sunjata’s uniquely attuned to, taking the moment of stillness to adjust, to get used to it, to feel the hunger growing inside with this particular option. The hands at Nate’s hip partially shift again to the claws, digging in to apply pressure to help lift a small amount — hard to do with the sand beneath him to make more space, but he does his best despite the heart that thunders in his chest, in his ears, the pulse that flickers and beats against the scar to his neck.
“I do trust you.” He manages, using whatever advantage he can get and allowing room for the ascended to add to it in a way that makes it easier for him, shuddering and as his legs slightly tremble with the sensation, half lidded gaze searching Nate’s face for the reaction, the okay.
And with it, he trembles as Nate begins to move, as his voice colors the air and Sunjata follows the lead the Ascended offers — a trembling yet sharp inhale of breath as he zones in on Nate’s hand, on the pressure applied to his neck as the Ascended adjusts himself more and Sunjata does his best to brace — steel eyes dark enough to devour. And when Nate draws in a breath to steady himself (one Sunjata knows he doesn’t need at all) he does the same. And he watches with that primal, predatory gleam to his gaze that Nate knows all too well (having seen the hunger in the Ascended’s own electric gaze many a time) as Nate rises himself to sink down on him. A shuddering hum leaves him, a cross between a growl and a slight sigh of relief — hands slipping from legs to Nate’s own hips.
His head remains tilted back a small amount, the hunger in his gaze growing more intense as he spies Nate’s own gaze shifting — a difference that Sunjata’s uniquely attuned to, taking the moment of stillness to adjust, to get used to it, to feel the hunger growing inside with this particular option. The hands at Nate’s hip partially shift again to the claws, digging in to apply pressure to help lift a small amount — hard to do with the sand beneath him to make more space, but he does his best despite the heart that thunders in his chest, in his ears, the pulse that flickers and beats against the scar to his neck.
“I do trust you.” He manages, using whatever advantage he can get and allowing room for the ascended to add to it in a way that makes it easier for him, shuddering and as his legs slightly tremble with the sensation, half lidded gaze searching Nate’s face for the reaction, the okay.
'cause i might make a move
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.
