// seems like the whole damn world went and lost its mind & all my childhood heroes
have fallen off or died. fake tears, real living, fake tears, but the alcohol never lies //
have fallen off or died. fake tears, real living, fake tears, but the alcohol never lies //
He does know, intimately well – more applied pressure, bites and nips with more pointed pressure marks, not exactly against the taste of a bit of fluid on his tongue. It’s awful, sure, but for the results? Worth it in his opinion. However, making it to the room makes it matter a little bit less, because it hits him in what he imagines to be a bit less intense these days than it does for Isla – able to have these feelings and sensitivities wherever he is versus one space in the entirety of the continent.
He shuts the door, letting the warmth spread through his limbs, turning around to find Isla who’s already shed her shirt, dark brows rising in a bit of surprise but also influenced immensely by the roomand who he is that it’s no surprise that when she presses up against him. He can feel her cool skin against his chest, over the fabric of his shirt and he’s torn between exploring her body more versus the hands that distract him at his belt, where he’s already growing hard with desire and need.
Their lips meet and Sunjata hums a sound into the kiss, his calloused fingers ghosting along her sides and her arms before they meet her at his belt, slipping it out of the belt loops and deftly unbuttoning his pants – leaving her to her own devices as he breaks the kiss to tear his own shirt off, tossing it in a heap alongside hers. “Let me feel you.” He purrs, pulling her a bit closer, hands returning to her now that he can feel her skin on his own, mangled, scarred, tattooed torso. His hands slip up, thumbs swiping the underside of her breasts before drifting up to ghost along and tease her nipples, seeking out her lips for another kiss again.
He shuts the door, letting the warmth spread through his limbs, turning around to find Isla who’s already shed her shirt, dark brows rising in a bit of surprise but also influenced immensely by the room
Their lips meet and Sunjata hums a sound into the kiss, his calloused fingers ghosting along her sides and her arms before they meet her at his belt, slipping it out of the belt loops and deftly unbuttoning his pants – leaving her to her own devices as he breaks the kiss to tear his own shirt off, tossing it in a heap alongside hers. “Let me feel you.” He purrs, pulling her a bit closer, hands returning to her now that he can feel her skin on his own, mangled, scarred, tattooed torso. His hands slip up, thumbs swiping the underside of her breasts before drifting up to ghost along and tease her nipples, seeking out her lips for another kiss again.
some princes don't become kings
SUNJATA
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.
