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
It was different, the fact that they weren’t new at this – that they had various partners and learned and adapted, used it to better know and learn the way to draw the most pleasure out. Used it to learn what worked best for themselves as well. And when the dance occurs, there’s confidence and surety within the moment, despite the primal heat and threat of scratches and scars, of trysts in the dark with a fire in the hearth.
They crave much the same, at the end of the day.
She leaves the knife strapped on, finding that it doesn’t bother him in the slightest. If anything, it only adds to the feeling of danger – that red line along his jaw a reminder of the sharpness of that blade, and with it the claws that extend and trace, that dig in as he trails down, blazing that fiery warpath to get where he wants to be, dragging those hands along her sides until he has her legs hooked over his shoulders and he can give her his full attention.
He can feel her hands run along his arms, hums against the feeling of her nails digging in, purrs against the feeling of the wind at the back of his neck, stirring the dark curls there, goosebumps racing along his shoulders and down his neck. It’s a tease, but it’s fun, and he dives in – smoldering silver gaze lingering on her face to watch for the reaction, to see what he can cause to burn through her. Her shudder causes the corner of his lips to raise in a smirk, humming once more as her nails dig in – an approving sound to tell her she could do anything to him and he’d probably like it – as the forked tongue dips again along her, pulling those sounds from her.
He relishes in it, in the way that he can give her something back. Perhaps he doesn’t have to, perhaps it was never expected. But he wants to. And for someone that had been classified as selfish one too many times, perhaps it’s saying something as he indulges her. The tongue dips again, insistent and playful, ready to give her everything he can. One hand lifts to her side again, running along her hip toward her chest, the other latches onto her leg, pulling her closer, the predator skins within him edging out almost possessively as he breaks the contact with her to kiss the inside of her thigh, to leave a tender bite there with enough of a pause to catch his breath while his heart thunders in his chest, before he dives in again with that forked tongue, exploring and playful, testing and caressing.
They crave much the same, at the end of the day.
She leaves the knife strapped on, finding that it doesn’t bother him in the slightest. If anything, it only adds to the feeling of danger – that red line along his jaw a reminder of the sharpness of that blade, and with it the claws that extend and trace, that dig in as he trails down, blazing that fiery warpath to get where he wants to be, dragging those hands along her sides until he has her legs hooked over his shoulders and he can give her his full attention.
He can feel her hands run along his arms, hums against the feeling of her nails digging in, purrs against the feeling of the wind at the back of his neck, stirring the dark curls there, goosebumps racing along his shoulders and down his neck. It’s a tease, but it’s fun, and he dives in – smoldering silver gaze lingering on her face to watch for the reaction, to see what he can cause to burn through her. Her shudder causes the corner of his lips to raise in a smirk, humming once more as her nails dig in – an approving sound to tell her she could do anything to him and he’d probably like it – as the forked tongue dips again along her, pulling those sounds from her.
He relishes in it, in the way that he can give her something back. Perhaps he doesn’t have to, perhaps it was never expected. But he wants to. And for someone that had been classified as selfish one too many times, perhaps it’s saying something as he indulges her. The tongue dips again, insistent and playful, ready to give her everything he can. One hand lifts to her side again, running along her hip toward her chest, the other latches onto her leg, pulling her closer, the predator skins within him edging out almost possessively as he breaks the contact with her to kiss the inside of her thigh, to leave a tender bite there with enough of a pause to catch his breath while his heart thunders in his chest, before he dives in again with that forked tongue, exploring and playful, testing and caressing.
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.
