- NATE -
I don’t want a world
Without pain or loss
Without pain or loss
For a moment, a long, blissful moment that distantly, Nate knows the other man can't maintain, everything feels normal again. It feels like he's loved, like he's seen. Feels like all he needs. His hand slips away from Sunjata's eyes, trusting the attuned to keep them shut while fingers trace over his forehead, while they stroke through hair. The feeling lingers for a handful of breaths, keeping his face soft as it moves along the planes of the other mans. "What'd I do to deserve you?" It comes out of Nate like a prayer, like a sigh he didn't quite mean to let slip.
The cold fingers of reality cannot be kept at bay forever though, and that trembling discomfort takes a hold of Nate again, his hand growing suddenly tight in Sunjata's hair, his other hand tugging at the other's hips. "C'mere." It's an order as much as it is a request, to go along with the tugging hands. And once he has the attuned on his lap, pressure keeping him grounded, Nate swallows, rolling his shoulders back as if bracing himself for something. "Look at me." There's that same touch of command in his voice, the edges of it clipped with the effort it takes to keep the illusion steady.
His one good eye is focused, almost too intently, on the attuned's face, gauging his reaction, his expression. Searching for some reason to rescind his order, some reason to be upset, and hoping to not find it. "Tell me the more." Nate let's some of the vulnerability slip through, the slightest quaver in his words.
The cold fingers of reality cannot be kept at bay forever though, and that trembling discomfort takes a hold of Nate again, his hand growing suddenly tight in Sunjata's hair, his other hand tugging at the other's hips. "C'mere." It's an order as much as it is a request, to go along with the tugging hands. And once he has the attuned on his lap, pressure keeping him grounded, Nate swallows, rolling his shoulders back as if bracing himself for something. "Look at me." There's that same touch of command in his voice, the edges of it clipped with the effort it takes to keep the illusion steady.
His one good eye is focused, almost too intently, on the attuned's face, gauging his reaction, his expression. Searching for some reason to rescind his order, some reason to be upset, and hoping to not find it. "Tell me the more." Nate let's some of the vulnerability slip through, the slightest quaver in his words.
I just want them
To mean something
To mean something
