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
To heal the wounds leaves little point to it, he agrees. The idea of it being a part of the danger, the allure that comes with it, the fact that the claws at her hip could absolutely dig in and draw blood (hadn’t Nate already done that? The scar to his wrists?) but it was something Sunjata writhed within, something he thrived within. The anticipation of danger and marks, scratches and blood, the promise of something brutal and primal and all consuming. It’s like that as she bites his lip, as he bites hers in return, pulling away begrudgingly (or excitedly?) to run his hands along her — to watch as she arches like a cat into his touch.
She moves with him, laying back against the couch, giving him a moment to discard everything else she wears, mouth watering in the anticipation and wanting to drown himself in her. But he takes his time, his hand roaming up the inside of her thigh, spreading her legs a bit further to fit him in on his path downward. He blazes a trail with kisses and playful nips, humming the approval to the nails and tight grip in his dark hair, traveling down and down to pay attention to her chest and moving on. Until, of course, he gets to the prize.
His breath rakes over her then, a hot pant as he pulls up a small amount, his hands slipping to find their way on either of her thighs to hook her legs over his tattooed shoulders. Smoldering steel lifts to her face, scanning to see if he can bring out the flame even more, before that forked tongue slips out to tenderly drag along her, wondering what kind of sounds she might make with it as he goes to repeat the gesture with a bit more pressure, a bit more hunger.
She moves with him, laying back against the couch, giving him a moment to discard everything else she wears, mouth watering in the anticipation and wanting to drown himself in her. But he takes his time, his hand roaming up the inside of her thigh, spreading her legs a bit further to fit him in on his path downward. He blazes a trail with kisses and playful nips, humming the approval to the nails and tight grip in his dark hair, traveling down and down to pay attention to her chest and moving on. Until, of course, he gets to the prize.
His breath rakes over her then, a hot pant as he pulls up a small amount, his hands slipping to find their way on either of her thighs to hook her legs over his tattooed shoulders. Smoldering steel lifts to her face, scanning to see if he can bring out the flame even more, before that forked tongue slips out to tenderly drag along her, wondering what kind of sounds she might make with it as he goes to repeat the gesture with a bit more pressure, a bit more hunger.
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.
