SUNJATA
the flood
snow glistens on the ledge, whiskey on the bed
shake it out and light a cigarette
shake it out and light a cigarette
A nod is given toward her as she lightens the sour tone of his voice, of the thoughts that invade his mind with the incubus comment. And he focuses on her instead when she mentions that she isn’t one of those people, snorting lightly at the implication. “You are better than them.” He agrees, flashing her one of those characteristically charming smiles of his. But he teases her once more, steel gaze flickering along her face when she responds, using a shorthand of his name that most did now.
And he hums thoughtfully, breath laced with the scent of smoke and alcohol. “I shouldn’t either. And yet…” He trails off, because it’s always been a coping mechanism for him, unable to remain left alone with his own thoughts for too long before the spirals hit. This was better, easier, less of an attempt to drown himself away when he can drown himself in someone else.
He’s thankful when the shift happens, when her question hits the air and he flashes her a fanged grin back. “Ah, a woman after my own heart.” Another tease, following her motions to run his hand down her side to his own leg, pulling a small dagger out and letting it glint in the light with hers. “Depends on if I deserve it. After all, I do have my hands on you.” He purrs to her, shifting the blade a small amount while his other hand flattens on the small of her back.
But the blade is placed back when she goes to speak again, and he pulls her against him, his head at her neck and the warmth radiating from her and pouring into her that pulls away when her fingers brush along his collarbone, along his neck, and he almost vibrates with the sensation when her hand reaches his stubbled jaw.
He’s half tempted that even those things have had their share of shit, but he refrains. He refrains from mentioning the VlamVloed getting trashed when he’d cheated on Phoebe with Nate. Was this different? If Maea was dead? Not gone? He recalls when Lusea went missing and he’d slept with Hotaru — a promise of no strings attached, just a way to avoid the shadows that crept into the mind, the self destructive spiral Sunjata was so incredibly good at.
He pulls her close, her head finding and brushing by his neck, and he shivers lightly under the sensation despite not being cold in the slightest. “It didn’t. That’s why this is far better.” He purrs to her, the smoldering steel of his gaze finding the fire within her own amber ones, her thumb brushing along his cheek before his lips. “You can say it anytime.” He assures her, before her hand is moving to the back of his neck and she pulls him in, lips meeting his. And it should feel wrong, it should feel like he should stop it if only for the sake of the memory and the reason he’s here in the first place.
But Sunjata is weak and has never been good at remaining within boundaries, and his one hand finds her hair again, tangling as he leans back toward her, giving into the kiss, the other moving to stroke along her side again, the bat wing remaining a blanket to cover her that opens up to the cold when his hand reaches the curve of her hip and he tries to pull her closer into him.
And he hums thoughtfully, breath laced with the scent of smoke and alcohol. “I shouldn’t either. And yet…” He trails off, because it’s always been a coping mechanism for him, unable to remain left alone with his own thoughts for too long before the spirals hit. This was better, easier, less of an attempt to drown himself away when he can drown himself in someone else.
He’s thankful when the shift happens, when her question hits the air and he flashes her a fanged grin back. “Ah, a woman after my own heart.” Another tease, following her motions to run his hand down her side to his own leg, pulling a small dagger out and letting it glint in the light with hers. “Depends on if I deserve it. After all, I do have my hands on you.” He purrs to her, shifting the blade a small amount while his other hand flattens on the small of her back.
But the blade is placed back when she goes to speak again, and he pulls her against him, his head at her neck and the warmth radiating from her and pouring into her that pulls away when her fingers brush along his collarbone, along his neck, and he almost vibrates with the sensation when her hand reaches his stubbled jaw.
He’s half tempted that even those things have had their share of shit, but he refrains. He refrains from mentioning the VlamVloed getting trashed when he’d cheated on Phoebe with Nate. Was this different? If Maea was dead? Not gone? He recalls when Lusea went missing and he’d slept with Hotaru — a promise of no strings attached, just a way to avoid the shadows that crept into the mind, the self destructive spiral Sunjata was so incredibly good at.
He pulls her close, her head finding and brushing by his neck, and he shivers lightly under the sensation despite not being cold in the slightest. “It didn’t. That’s why this is far better.” He purrs to her, the smoldering steel of his gaze finding the fire within her own amber ones, her thumb brushing along his cheek before his lips. “You can say it anytime.” He assures her, before her hand is moving to the back of his neck and she pulls him in, lips meeting his. And it should feel wrong, it should feel like he should stop it if only for the sake of the memory and the reason he’s here in the first place.
But Sunjata is weak and has never been good at remaining within boundaries, and his one hand finds her hair again, tangling as he leans back toward her, giving into the kiss, the other moving to stroke along her side again, the bat wing remaining a blanket to cover her that opens up to the cold when his hand reaches the curve of her hip and he tries to pull her closer into him.
miss me when you, you wish you weren't right
shake me all out if i'm wrong, for you, for you
shake me all out if i'm wrong, for you, for you
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.
