SUNJATA
the flood
Remi’s wings spread wide to keep the balance, and the least that Sunjata can do is let his own navy wings flare, shifting so that they spread along the sand beneath them so they don’t sink below. He’d learned that with his brief stint in quicksand, he remembers that the more surface area he can create the more they won’t be devoured by the creatures that would suck them down into the sandy depths.
Eventually he is a raft, or so he thinks, flat against the hot sands and hissing out a breath as Remi rubs against him — hands shifting to try and offer a bit of balance to Remi’s legs from where they refuse to meet the sand. But then Remi is fiddling with the button of his pants and the sudden realization of freeing himself from this distracted state is far more gratifying. His hands slip up to help, hips shifting and raising the Lullaby like a raft hitting a wave. His wings flare, keeping balance to not tip, head tilting back ever so slightly that the tips of his horns dig into the sand like water. “It’ll be fine.” He’s sure of it.
And once the pants are moved, he can focus again on the flaring frustration burning within him, the one seeking an out, especially as the brief draft of wind rakes across hot exposed skin — Remi kind enough to help with it. His hands find Remi’s legs again, latching on as his wings flare, keeping the balance in the sandy ocean. “I won’t tip us.”
Eventually he is a raft, or so he thinks, flat against the hot sands and hissing out a breath as Remi rubs against him — hands shifting to try and offer a bit of balance to Remi’s legs from where they refuse to meet the sand. But then Remi is fiddling with the button of his pants and the sudden realization of freeing himself from this distracted state is far more gratifying. His hands slip up to help, hips shifting and raising the Lullaby like a raft hitting a wave. His wings flare, keeping balance to not tip, head tilting back ever so slightly that the tips of his horns dig into the sand like water. “It’ll be fine.” He’s sure of it.
And once the pants are moved, he can focus again on the flaring frustration burning within him, the one seeking an out, especially as the brief draft of wind rakes across hot exposed skin — Remi kind enough to help with it. His hands find Remi’s legs again, latching on as his wings flare, keeping the balance in the sandy ocean. “I won’t tip us.”
hard drugs, fake love; it's a sensation
makes one hell of a collaboration
makes one hell of a collaboration
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.
