You pump the blood so I can breathe, Don't let me go don't ever leave
The blunt edges of Nate’s teeth frame the rumbling groan that leaves him, his head tipping back just slightly into the hands in his hair. Everything’s better with me around, Sunny. Nate insists in Sunjata’s head while he clings to more of the shared feeling of the drug coursing through the attuned. While he reaches for that burning light and tingling, for the chemical ease.
I love you too. Nate replies easily, taking advantage of how eager Sunjata is to slip his shirt off and throw it somewhere towards the door. Hands and nails drag down the marked skin of the attuned’s broad chest, leaving behind pink lines as Nate moves to mirror the hands on him.
Fingers in his waistband are different than a hand on his cock though, Nate gasping out a ragged sound as his cock fills so quickly it leaves him dizzy, his arousal sparking through the bond and blurring with the euphoric edges of snapdragon. “Fuck baby,” there’s no need to go rushing in like that. Both of Sunjata’s wrists are gathered up in a pair of electric hands, Nate rising up to smirk down at his husband, rolling his hips and pulling his shirt off over his head, the fabric finding a home on the floor next to Sunjata’s.
There is a hint of something vulnerable, something desperate, in blue eyes and bond both. I wanna take care of you, darling, wanna take you apart and put you back together. Nate leans in, presses a too long kiss against Sunjata and moves his hips again, a slow, torturous slide of rough fabric. You want me to, don’t you? Want me to take care of you, to make you feel good?
I love you too. Nate replies easily, taking advantage of how eager Sunjata is to slip his shirt off and throw it somewhere towards the door. Hands and nails drag down the marked skin of the attuned’s broad chest, leaving behind pink lines as Nate moves to mirror the hands on him.
Fingers in his waistband are different than a hand on his cock though, Nate gasping out a ragged sound as his cock fills so quickly it leaves him dizzy, his arousal sparking through the bond and blurring with the euphoric edges of snapdragon. “Fuck baby,” there’s no need to go rushing in like that. Both of Sunjata’s wrists are gathered up in a pair of electric hands, Nate rising up to smirk down at his husband, rolling his hips and pulling his shirt off over his head, the fabric finding a home on the floor next to Sunjata’s.
There is a hint of something vulnerable, something desperate, in blue eyes and bond both. I wanna take care of you, darling, wanna take you apart and put you back together. Nate leans in, presses a too long kiss against Sunjata and moves his hips again, a slow, torturous slide of rough fabric. You want me to, don’t you? Want me to take care of you, to make you feel good?
NATE
