We could leave or stay and fight, no difference from the day to night
Does a man need a reason to go wandering with his husband? To take a day off packing, steal a kiss and a bite at the edge of the jungle and slip into a more feline shape?
The suggestion had only been half serious at first, an excuse to get out of deciding what really needed to come with them, what could be given away. But the more it rattled around in his head, the more enticing it became. And just like that, Nate was decided, all four of his arms working to scoop Sunjata up and out into the morning sun. Pemota and Haai both follow, supervision and extra eyes all at once.
Nate didn’t know how long they’d been out by this point, how far they’d gone, but he found it hard to care, especially beyond the stimulus of all the smells he usually numbed himself to. The whole point of this is to grow distracted; to disappear around a tree and pounce on his husband from above, to follow a particularly foul smell to a particularly ugly flower, to leap after a bird in the air only to realize after it’s caught that the colours are little too close for comfort.
The sun is high in the sky by the time they stop, far above the treetops, a haze of mist dulling it’s rays just enough that Nate feels more than comfortable shifting back into his own skin. He plants himself ass first on the ground, his arm held out for Sunjata to press against him in whatever shape he prefers. It’s nice. Relaxing. Pemota pours starlight down upon them, pausing every now and then to bother Haai playfully.
An eternity passes, and yet it seems like no time at all before Nate is leaning in, his accent dragging over his voice thickly, an indulgence he’s started slipping into with Bart around. “Y’wanna beat the shit outta each other?”
The suggestion had only been half serious at first, an excuse to get out of deciding what really needed to come with them, what could be given away. But the more it rattled around in his head, the more enticing it became. And just like that, Nate was decided, all four of his arms working to scoop Sunjata up and out into the morning sun. Pemota and Haai both follow, supervision and extra eyes all at once.
Nate didn’t know how long they’d been out by this point, how far they’d gone, but he found it hard to care, especially beyond the stimulus of all the smells he usually numbed himself to. The whole point of this is to grow distracted; to disappear around a tree and pounce on his husband from above, to follow a particularly foul smell to a particularly ugly flower, to leap after a bird in the air only to realize after it’s caught that the colours are little too close for comfort.
The sun is high in the sky by the time they stop, far above the treetops, a haze of mist dulling it’s rays just enough that Nate feels more than comfortable shifting back into his own skin. He plants himself ass first on the ground, his arm held out for Sunjata to press against him in whatever shape he prefers. It’s nice. Relaxing. Pemota pours starlight down upon them, pausing every now and then to bother Haai playfully.
An eternity passes, and yet it seems like no time at all before Nate is leaning in, his accent dragging over his voice thickly, an indulgence he’s started slipping into with Bart around. “Y’wanna beat the shit outta each other?”
NATE
