Strange Days

SUNJATA

the flood

i can't believe that you could just say
that "the answers unlock this gate"

It absolutely is what Sunjata’s doing. Acknowledging them in a sense, but not responding to it. Focusing on something else, some hidden plausible deniability granted by doing so. But his face, stubbled chin and cheeks and all, burrow into Nate’s neck comfortably – lingering soft apologetic kisses pressed to wounds acquired, wondering if Ascended’s heal faster than he does. A shame, in a sense. But the thought disappears as soon as Nate’s head is tilting, making more room, and Sunjata takes advantage of it.

“I don’t?” He muses, pressing a bit harder of a kiss against the column of Nate’s throat, just beneath his ear. But then, Nate’s pressing against a dark bruise formed on his own neck, and a low hum leaves his throat and a quiet shudder – having the fingers that tighten in his hair tense a small amount, the hands roaming along Nate’s back pausing and stuttering in its careful stroke. So he shifts a small amount, hissing against the scratches that have clotted along his hips to turn a bit more into Nate, to take advantage of the placement of the bed and the way they’re tangled about it.

He ends up somehow onto his side, tangled with the Ascended, peering down at electric eyes. “Do you think you’ll regret it? Getting into this?” He muses quietly, a raise of his brow, still somewhat drunk despite what's gone on.

'cause if you knew his name, not a thing would change
you'd still be wishing you were blessed