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’s a dance, of fire and danger, of hands in the form of claws that certainly have enough power to tear flesh but doesn’t. It’s that edge to it, the idea that it could that sparks more of the adrenaline – much the same with him and the way she obliges him. There’s a certain sort of power, despite being relatively powerless in the situation, that he loves when she arches her back, a gasp leaving her with his roaming hands and her beginning to speed up.
He works with her, finding a sort of rhythm they both can work with, one that keeps the speed up for her and the wave that crashes, one that keeps building his own. There’s sweat beaded on her skin, the same as his atop navy tattoos, scars, and bronze skin. And where her voice colors the air, his does too – accompanying her own as he burns with her. Before long, she crashes around him, and he can feel it so intensely that he has to suck in a sharp breath – ruining the attempt at keeping the panting relatively even as she begins to slow and his hands slide back down her sides to her hips, her head finding its place atop his chest for a mere moment for her to catch her breath where he has little in mind to be able to accomplish it.
The fingers that trail up his side spark goosebumps beneath their roam, and then she’s sitting up again – his steel gaze swirling with shadowed desire and lust as her hips continue to move slower, his thighs twitching with the anticipation. So now it’s his turn, and that string is already taught enough – right as he begins to sit up toward her, hands at her hips and ass in that slow rolling shift of her hips. He presses her against his chest then, lips seeking her own briefly before traveling to her neck to latch on, a growl slipping from his throat as his wave crests and begins to crash as well.
He works with her, finding a sort of rhythm they both can work with, one that keeps the speed up for her and the wave that crashes, one that keeps building his own. There’s sweat beaded on her skin, the same as his atop navy tattoos, scars, and bronze skin. And where her voice colors the air, his does too – accompanying her own as he burns with her. Before long, she crashes around him, and he can feel it so intensely that he has to suck in a sharp breath – ruining the attempt at keeping the panting relatively even as she begins to slow and his hands slide back down her sides to her hips, her head finding its place atop his chest for a mere moment for her to catch her breath where he has little in mind to be able to accomplish it.
The fingers that trail up his side spark goosebumps beneath their roam, and then she’s sitting up again – his steel gaze swirling with shadowed desire and lust as her hips continue to move slower, his thighs twitching with the anticipation. So now it’s his turn, and that string is already taught enough – right as he begins to sit up toward her, hands at her hips and ass in that slow rolling shift of her hips. He presses her against his chest then, lips seeking her own briefly before traveling to her neck to latch on, a growl slipping from his throat as his wave crests and begins to crash as well.
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.
