You pump the blood so I can breathe, Don't let me go don't ever leave
Brows lift as whiskey and more slips out of the bag, Nate taking both into his hands, though his focus is on the little bottle of rusty powder. There’s a moment of silent consideration, and then a rush of excitement racing through the bond, Nate’s thumb working the lid of the bottle off so he can tap a small mountain directly onto the waiting tip of his tongue.
Patience is not the virtue that Nate has ever known, but even the meagre scraps he normally has flee him when there’s no immediate reaction, no tingle running from his tongue to his spine. Not even a taste, though his mouth still waters, his body recognizing something iron in the powder. With a barely bitten back grunt of disappointment, one that flares through the bond, Nate surges forward, pressing his tongue into Sunjata’s mouth instead in a messy, hungry kiss. All at once he regrets filling his hands the way he had and leans away, the glow fading from his lips while electric eyes watch Sunjata.
Nate steps back, his movements slow, unhurried. Inviting, except for the sharp focus in his gaze, a blade that cuts and bleeds into everything else. The tremble of his hands, the shakiness of his grin. “What does snapdragon feel like?” He asks softly, pressing fingers poking along the edges of the bond while Nate creeps in the bushes outside.
Patience is not the virtue that Nate has ever known, but even the meagre scraps he normally has flee him when there’s no immediate reaction, no tingle running from his tongue to his spine. Not even a taste, though his mouth still waters, his body recognizing something iron in the powder. With a barely bitten back grunt of disappointment, one that flares through the bond, Nate surges forward, pressing his tongue into Sunjata’s mouth instead in a messy, hungry kiss. All at once he regrets filling his hands the way he had and leans away, the glow fading from his lips while electric eyes watch Sunjata.
Nate steps back, his movements slow, unhurried. Inviting, except for the sharp focus in his gaze, a blade that cuts and bleeds into everything else. The tremble of his hands, the shakiness of his grin. “What does snapdragon feel like?” He asks softly, pressing fingers poking along the edges of the bond while Nate creeps in the bushes outside.
NATE
