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
Her hands find his back, running along scars granted from shark bites and fights, and he hums against her neck with the sensation of her nails – goosebumps rising along his skin in their wake. And it’s tempting fate, really, when it comes down to it. They’re both weapons, both made to be so much more than they needed to be, than they probably wanted to be. It’s no surprise, or at least shouldn’t be, that they delve into this together. A moment to remove the masks and the facades.
Her breathy voice grants a breathy laugh from him as he presses against her. “Good thing I’m not trying to be.” He murmurs back into her skin. He’s an Outlander, from a place that flooded, with sands and deserts and dunes, of sunshine and droughts. He’s never seen snow before arriving to Caido, never experienced the bite of the cold. He wouldn’t last here – but he hardly lasted in Korofi either. Still, as his hands slide up under her shirt, her lips find his ear and he tilts into it a bit, testing the waters with playful soft bites along her skin.
Nothing to mark, not yet anyway. He doesn’t know if that’s something she’d want, regardless of what he does. So he continues on, pressing kisses to her shoulder and the tattoo before pausing to lift the shirt off. She helps, and soon enough the shirt is discarded with his own, the bra unclasped and tossed without care either. He rises a small amount to view her, scars and all, the smolder in his gaze becoming smoke as her hands trail up to his neck, remaining in place just to see what she chose to do.
It’s worth it, he thinks, as she lifts herself against him, chest to chest. His hand moves to the small of her back to help support her, lips finding her own and offering a quiet growl in response at her bite to his lip – he knows he’s going to burn himself into the ground tonight. He also knows he won’t be alone. A small secret between them, nothing attached, nothing else on his mind except for her and the roaring fire between them, the one in the hearth, and the fact that he can’t get enough.
So he pulls back against her hands, pulling her with him to sit back on his heels a bit – sweeping that forked tongue along her lower lip – perhaps just to be a shit about it, perhaps to show her that it could certainly be fun. And with a few moments of shifting a bit more, he tries to lean back and readjust his legs so she sits in his lap, freeing his hands to roam along her body from hip to chest, lingering, playing, preparing the mental ways to devour.
Her breathy voice grants a breathy laugh from him as he presses against her. “Good thing I’m not trying to be.” He murmurs back into her skin. He’s an Outlander, from a place that flooded, with sands and deserts and dunes, of sunshine and droughts. He’s never seen snow before arriving to Caido, never experienced the bite of the cold. He wouldn’t last here – but he hardly lasted in Korofi either. Still, as his hands slide up under her shirt, her lips find his ear and he tilts into it a bit, testing the waters with playful soft bites along her skin.
Nothing to mark, not yet anyway. He doesn’t know if that’s something she’d want, regardless of what he does. So he continues on, pressing kisses to her shoulder and the tattoo before pausing to lift the shirt off. She helps, and soon enough the shirt is discarded with his own, the bra unclasped and tossed without care either. He rises a small amount to view her, scars and all, the smolder in his gaze becoming smoke as her hands trail up to his neck, remaining in place just to see what she chose to do.
It’s worth it, he thinks, as she lifts herself against him, chest to chest. His hand moves to the small of her back to help support her, lips finding her own and offering a quiet growl in response at her bite to his lip – he knows he’s going to burn himself into the ground tonight. He also knows he won’t be alone. A small secret between them, nothing attached, nothing else on his mind except for her and the roaring fire between them, the one in the hearth, and the fact that he can’t get enough.
So he pulls back against her hands, pulling her with him to sit back on his heels a bit – sweeping that forked tongue along her lower lip – perhaps just to be a shit about it, perhaps to show her that it could certainly be fun. And with a few moments of shifting a bit more, he tries to lean back and readjust his legs so she sits in his lap, freeing his hands to roam along her body from hip to chest, lingering, playing, preparing the mental ways to devour.
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.
