- NATE -
Got my own monster
Nobody but me
Nobody but me
There is a kind of perverse joy in feeling what he's offered out be taken, in being able to tempt those fangs against his skin. It's a new feeling for Nate, all he knows telling him to lean away, take back to control he's given up, but he wants to trust in the attuned, wants to let himself be taken care of, for once.
He does everything he can to make it seem effortless, another low croon leaving him at the feeling of fangs, the feeling of hands smoothing up and down his back, of one of them twisting in his hair. His own hands spread over Sunjata's back, nails dragging up, the only real fight Nate seemed to be putting up. "S'why aren't you?" The words come out as breathless as someone without breath can manage, all but dripping with a taunt, a bluff that is immediately called with the feeling of fangs sinking into his neck. It isn't the same sudden burst of sensation his bite provides, but it's that sense of too deep, too much past the numbness that it becomes its own feeling, tingling down along his spine and up to pool in the back of his head.
Nate presses into the kiss that comes crashing against him as hungrily as he can, not caring about the way their teeth click together from the force. It's clear what the hands on his hips are trying to do, but Nate fights them, for a moment, shifting and twisting, without breaking the kiss, to manoeuvre his single layer off, and press against the other man like that, his hips pressing down again, almost desperately this time.
He does everything he can to make it seem effortless, another low croon leaving him at the feeling of fangs, the feeling of hands smoothing up and down his back, of one of them twisting in his hair. His own hands spread over Sunjata's back, nails dragging up, the only real fight Nate seemed to be putting up. "S'why aren't you?" The words come out as breathless as someone without breath can manage, all but dripping with a taunt, a bluff that is immediately called with the feeling of fangs sinking into his neck. It isn't the same sudden burst of sensation his bite provides, but it's that sense of too deep, too much past the numbness that it becomes its own feeling, tingling down along his spine and up to pool in the back of his head.
Nate presses into the kiss that comes crashing against him as hungrily as he can, not caring about the way their teeth click together from the force. It's clear what the hands on his hips are trying to do, but Nate fights them, for a moment, shifting and twisting, without breaking the kiss, to manoeuvre his single layer off, and press against the other man like that, his hips pressing down again, almost desperately this time.
I would never call him enemy
He's the bad god I need
He's the bad god I need
