SUNJATA
isn't it funny?
how the cold numbs everything but grief?
how the cold numbs everything but grief?
He’s falling and falling, and the fire within him keeps burning to where he can’t quite see where lines are drawn, where professionalism ends and saying damn the consequences and going further. But they’re both in relationships, Nate hasn’t made a move, Sunjata’s never been with a man aside from the time with Loren but Lusea has been between them that night. And Phoebe? Well, she certainly already knows. And as the list begins to depart, filter through his mind, latching and hanging on as he internally rages with himself, he doesn’t know the answer to Nate’s question.
He’s fucked. Absolutely and completely fucked. And he could either complete it, finish off what the midwife, his wife, already thinks has happened — or he could end it here. End it here and have some sort of dignity left, despite having told Phoebe before they married that it was a possibility. But he was trying —
— Did it matter? Nobody else was around to see them, to see how far it did and didn’t go. And either way it doesn’t end well for him.
It comes down to whether he wants to keep getting seen, keep getting an idea of where his illness sits within him. Whether Phoebe lets him and if he caves her to like he always does, like he not necessarily should. He meets Nate’s gaze, sees that predatory stillness within him, their closeness, his own heaving chest. Sees in Nate’s bright eyes the hunger that Sunjata knows all too well, familiar and gods how he aches. But he can’t, he can’t walk just yet with the tremble to his legs, boxed in by the Ascended, wanting nothing more than to pull the man into him again, begging for another bite.
He can’t help the shadow of pain that cuts through his dazed silver eyes as he pants with his back against the wall, and when he leans back, digs his grave further, damns everything. And with a breathy growl, he decides, saying fuck it internally as he reaches for Nate to pull the other man in — body begging for a release. “Please.” His breath hitches. “Again.” He’s never been on this side of it, too much in control, too much of a dominator before. He’s never been the one to beg for it — but gods how he wants it.
He’s fucked. Absolutely and completely fucked. And he could either complete it, finish off what the midwife, his wife, already thinks has happened — or he could end it here. End it here and have some sort of dignity left, despite having told Phoebe before they married that it was a possibility. But he was trying —
— Did it matter? Nobody else was around to see them, to see how far it did and didn’t go. And either way it doesn’t end well for him.
It comes down to whether he wants to keep getting seen, keep getting an idea of where his illness sits within him. Whether Phoebe lets him and if he caves her to like he always does, like he not necessarily should. He meets Nate’s gaze, sees that predatory stillness within him, their closeness, his own heaving chest. Sees in Nate’s bright eyes the hunger that Sunjata knows all too well, familiar and gods how he aches. But he can’t, he can’t walk just yet with the tremble to his legs, boxed in by the Ascended, wanting nothing more than to pull the man into him again, begging for another bite.
He can’t help the shadow of pain that cuts through his dazed silver eyes as he pants with his back against the wall, and when he leans back, digs his grave further, damns everything. And with a breathy growl, he decides, saying fuck it internally as he reaches for Nate to pull the other man in — body begging for a release. “Please.” His breath hitches. “Again.” He’s never been on this side of it, too much in control, too much of a dominator before. He’s never been the one to beg for it — but gods how he wants it.
if we could light up the room with pain,
we'd be such a glorious fire
we'd be such a glorious fire
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.
