Strange Days

SUNJATA

the flood

i can't believe that you could just say
that "the answers unlock this gate"

He doesn’t expect to draw blood from the Ascended, but when he does and he can taste what should be iron as a bit more bitter and sour, strong and nearly burning to the tongue, he can’t help but wonder what the Ascended was made of anyway. Still, Sunjata’s own teeth burrow in briefly and draw that fluid along his tongue, lips speckled in a pearlescent sheen when he withdraws. It’s not an Ascended bute, but perhaps something Nate might appreciate regardless, unsure how to get through to the other man in terms of the little pleasures like that.

If nothing else, it’ll leave a mark.

The praise he receives is one that’s different than he’s used to. Something almost more appreciative and warm, something nearly more into it. And it seems to be all Nate needs to continue. The hands at his wings keep him idle enough to not challenge him back, and he gives in — clay to be molded by the Ascended as he saw fit. The kisses trail almost maddeningly slow, and he growls in the frustration it brings — already breathless and having been ready, he can’t help but to let his smoldering steel meet the electric blues on the trail he takes down. His hands trail up along Nate’s back and sides to his hair and neck, fingers tangling and pressing against the bite he’s given.

And when Nate pauses? There’s a hiss of frustration, cock already hard and his body aching like hell for an outlet, a release, hips struggling to shift toward Nate inadvertently, head tilting back a small amount to reveal the expanse of where Nate’s marks are left on bronze tattooed skin. All the Ascended receives is a hum of a whine of ‘please’ threatening to escape his throat.

'cause if you knew his name, not a thing would change
you'd still be wishing you were blessed