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 shivers and his hands are on him and Sunjata’s own bronze hued skin trembles with the sensation, feeling every moment acutely, feeling every way the Ascended moves, every moment of the blood in his mouth that Nate must surely have known he’s caused. But he makes no point to try and stop the deepening kiss, the tinge of iron lingering and burning with the rest of him in a sweat slick sheen, enhanced only when his hands find Nate’s hips, when claws dig into the skin, drawing that opalescent hue, smeared along. And Nate shifts, a growl leaving Sunjata with the sensation as he seeks more and Sunjata shifts his hips with him, driving further and trying to get that feline curl of the Ascended’s back once more.
Sunjata drags his teeth, drags the fangs along Nate’s skin as the rhythm and trembling of his body is figured out, and he hums another few quiet unintelligible korofian phrases with it. Nate offers a whine and more expanse of skin and Sunjata dives for it, that burning in his stomach and the need to claw and leave those marks along the Ascended growing ever brighter in his mind. And when he utters the phrase, when he hears Nate’s response in his tongue, he trembles again.
And then Nate stills, so abruptly that Sunjata’s claws drag and dig in, that he shudders with a panting growl of a breath. “Ah, fok.” A hint of his surprise, pulling away from Nate’s neck as the Ascended offers an apologetic touch and Sunjata can’t help the panting, the rise and fall of his chest as he searches the other man’s face for a reaction, of something not being quite right. But he can feel the challenge Nate presents, he doesn’t have to try, and Sunjata’s desperate enough on his own — buried into Nate and huffing against the sudden shift that he shivers. The question, the demand,the beg is met with a pause from Sunjata himself, searching the Ascended’s face before his forked tongue darts along his lower lip, wiping away a slight trail of blood and a smirk crosses his face.
His head nears Nate’s then, perhaps a bit too hard, his forehead bumping into Nate’s as shadowed steel meets electric blue, nose bumping and brushing against the Ascended’s own. “ek is joune, Nate.” It’s a cross between a growl and a purr, a deep lust filled rumble that leaves his lips, all the honesty and truthfulness to the words glimmering in his gaze, taking the moment to try and catch his breath.
Sunjata drags his teeth, drags the fangs along Nate’s skin as the rhythm and trembling of his body is figured out, and he hums another few quiet unintelligible korofian phrases with it. Nate offers a whine and more expanse of skin and Sunjata dives for it, that burning in his stomach and the need to claw and leave those marks along the Ascended growing ever brighter in his mind. And when he utters the phrase, when he hears Nate’s response in his tongue, he trembles again.
And then Nate stills, so abruptly that Sunjata’s claws drag and dig in, that he shudders with a panting growl of a breath. “Ah, fok.” A hint of his surprise, pulling away from Nate’s neck as the Ascended offers an apologetic touch and Sunjata can’t help the panting, the rise and fall of his chest as he searches the other man’s face for a reaction, of something not being quite right. But he can feel the challenge Nate presents, he doesn’t have to try, and Sunjata’s desperate enough on his own — buried into Nate and huffing against the sudden shift that he shivers. The question, the demand,
His head nears Nate’s then, perhaps a bit too hard, his forehead bumping into Nate’s as shadowed steel meets electric blue, nose bumping and brushing against the Ascended’s own. “ek is joune, Nate.” It’s a cross between a growl and a purr, a deep lust filled rumble that leaves his lips, all the honesty and truthfulness to the words glimmering in his gaze, taking the moment to try and catch his breath.
'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.
