i don't know where home is, but i suppose it's anywhere i go that's any good at all
”I love you Sunny.” Though it can’t be seen, the grin is clear in his words, pressed against the attuned’s skin. Nate arches into the claws at his shoulders, mirroring the body beneath him. ”Wat sou ek sonder jou doen, he?” The Korofi still takes a moment of thought, but it feels like a more personal shit, meant to pull another shudder down Sunjata’s spine. His free hand reaches up the others body, fingers tracking along sweat slicked skin, along lines of ink and scars.
If the words are his own pleasure, a somewhat selfish sating of a hunger he doesn’t really feel anymore, then his hands more than make it up to Sunjata, that slow, gentle rhythm quickly spurred on into something not gentle, not slow. Nate can feel a growl rip through him as his hair is tugged, though he can’t hear it over the roaring in his ears, want rising in him too quickly to really contain. His hand grows faster, an inhuman stamina keeping him from tiring, from letting his rhythm falter, but it still doesn’t feel like enough.
The urge to bite again rises up, and now, Nate can’t resist the idea, teeth making a mark just above Sunjata’s hips. Another growl rumbles through him, softer, because his mouth is full, because the feeling is a little different, pleasure tempering the possessiveness. The hand on the attuned’s chest clenches, hard enough to bruise, trying to hold Sunjata still against the newly frantic pace of the fingers inside of him, any sense of control faltering in he face of desperate need.
If the words are his own pleasure, a somewhat selfish sating of a hunger he doesn’t really feel anymore, then his hands more than make it up to Sunjata, that slow, gentle rhythm quickly spurred on into something not gentle, not slow. Nate can feel a growl rip through him as his hair is tugged, though he can’t hear it over the roaring in his ears, want rising in him too quickly to really contain. His hand grows faster, an inhuman stamina keeping him from tiring, from letting his rhythm falter, but it still doesn’t feel like enough.
The urge to bite again rises up, and now, Nate can’t resist the idea, teeth making a mark just above Sunjata’s hips. Another growl rumbles through him, softer, because his mouth is full, because the feeling is a little different, pleasure tempering the possessiveness. The hand on the attuned’s chest clenches, hard enough to bruise, trying to hold Sunjata still against the newly frantic pace of the fingers inside of him, any sense of control faltering in he face of desperate need.
NATE
