I've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck
than any boy you'll ever meet,
She’s clear, keeps her distance while he makes his mind, while the storm cloud covering his mind falters and shifts, breaking to let some amount of clarity in – and with it he can see her, in the way the candle light flickers in her blond hair, the way it casts shadows along the curves of her face. She’s different from those he’d loved, still loves, and yet so similar that he has to breathe in deeply – to exhale quietly while he decides.
And when he does, his withdraw is met with a slight rise from her – as if she thinks that he’s chosen to create a boundary that he absolutely doesn’t want to be there. So perhaps, he surprises her as well, pressing back to her, taking and taking – prepared to give back once she hears the words leave his lips. No attachments, no commitments, just two lonely people trying to be less of it.
His lips meet hers, hand in her blond hair, and he can feel her shudder beneath him – arching against him to meet an approving growl when her legs wrap around him fully. His other hand goes to tug at the shirt she’s wearing, to pull at it enough to find how to release her of it when she taunts him by pulling him closer, nipping at his lip.
Two can absolutely dance to that. And he concedes to her, giving into her deeper kisses, tongue diving back toward her, teeth sharp, nipping her back, biting her back until she breaks aside from the hand that drifts lower and lower – attuned to the feeling, the goosebumps that rise along his skin, and the shudder that leaves him too at the end of it.
He doesn’t answer her in words, not yet – not as he lifts his torso from hers just enough and releases the hair in his one hand to remove her jacket and to slip the dress from her body, one hand at the small of her back to lift her to him with a light smirk. His steel eyes flash when he sees the entirety of the revealed skin, growing bolder and bolder still, holding onto some kind of restraint, because he’s not sure what she likes, and he chooses to test the water regardless.
Hands reach to trail slowly up her sides, agonizingly slow, lips breaking from her own to kiss with hungry fierceness along her jawbone until he reaches her neck, caressing and gentle just enough to lull her into it enough that he may surprise her. The scruff of his beard scratches against her neck briefly before he gruffly, huskily speaks in his heavy accent once more. “Your turn.” He rumbles, hands finally making it to her chest to cup, lips parting to bite down hard enough to mark her on the side of her neck as he begins his test.
And when he does, his withdraw is met with a slight rise from her – as if she thinks that he’s chosen to create a boundary that he absolutely doesn’t want to be there. So perhaps, he surprises her as well, pressing back to her, taking and taking – prepared to give back once she hears the words leave his lips. No attachments, no commitments, just two lonely people trying to be less of it.
His lips meet hers, hand in her blond hair, and he can feel her shudder beneath him – arching against him to meet an approving growl when her legs wrap around him fully. His other hand goes to tug at the shirt she’s wearing, to pull at it enough to find how to release her of it when she taunts him by pulling him closer, nipping at his lip.
Two can absolutely dance to that. And he concedes to her, giving into her deeper kisses, tongue diving back toward her, teeth sharp, nipping her back, biting her back until she breaks aside from the hand that drifts lower and lower – attuned to the feeling, the goosebumps that rise along his skin, and the shudder that leaves him too at the end of it.
He doesn’t answer her in words, not yet – not as he lifts his torso from hers just enough and releases the hair in his one hand to remove her jacket and to slip the dress from her body, one hand at the small of her back to lift her to him with a light smirk. His steel eyes flash when he sees the entirety of the revealed skin, growing bolder and bolder still, holding onto some kind of restraint, because he’s not sure what she likes, and he chooses to test the water regardless.
Hands reach to trail slowly up her sides, agonizingly slow, lips breaking from her own to kiss with hungry fierceness along her jawbone until he reaches her neck, caressing and gentle just enough to lull her into it enough that he may surprise her. The scruff of his beard scratches against her neck briefly before he gruffly, huskily speaks in his heavy accent once more. “Your turn.” He rumbles, hands finally making it to her chest to cup, lips parting to bite down hard enough to mark her on the side of her neck as he begins his test.
sweetie, you had me
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.
