// a reminder, ready when you find her, i repress the iridescence of a fire
won't you mind him, steady when you find him, i confess the incandescence of a dyin' light //
won't you mind him, steady when you find him, i confess the incandescence of a dyin' light //
He wonders if he’s glowing, if the tattoos on his arms swirl with an intensity that makes them look like they’re spinning until they’re blinking and winking out of existence. He wonders if he’s burning out, if the sudden taste of cinders on his tongue are true, that if it goes on too long he might be sputtering ash. He’s panting, sweat shimmering along his skin beneath leathery wings, beneath the heavy horned head that lowers toward Amun as the Ascended moans his own pleasure.
But then Sunjata feels as light as air, his mind freezing and fogging, a constant confusion that swirls within him. And when Amun closes every inch of space between them, Sunjata suddenly begins to feel smothered, unsure, uncertain, wavering on his feet. The line that the potter draws on his side to his hip burns and sends fire in its wake, and the grip the other man holds is one that Sunjata feels as if he might collapse upon.
Had Amun become the one to bring him to the stars? Is this what it feels like to collapse in on yourself? Is this how galaxies are formed?
He shudders, panting now, steel eyes blown with lust and wonder shutter closed like blinds, and he presses into Amun further. A few seconds later and a small amount of lucidity returns again, and Sunjata pulls back slightly – reaching up with the arm wrapped around the other man’s shoulders, reaching for his head to tear his fangs from his wrist.
“Enough.” He pants, he growls, he burns.
But then Sunjata feels as light as air, his mind freezing and fogging, a constant confusion that swirls within him. And when Amun closes every inch of space between them, Sunjata suddenly begins to feel smothered, unsure, uncertain, wavering on his feet. The line that the potter draws on his side to his hip burns and sends fire in its wake, and the grip the other man holds is one that Sunjata feels as if he might collapse upon.
Had Amun become the one to bring him to the stars? Is this what it feels like to collapse in on yourself? Is this how galaxies are formed?
He shudders, panting now, steel eyes blown with lust and wonder shutter closed like blinds, and he presses into Amun further. A few seconds later and a small amount of lucidity returns again, and Sunjata pulls back slightly – reaching up with the arm wrapped around the other man’s shoulders, reaching for his head to tear his fangs from his wrist.
“Enough.” He pants, he growls, he burns.
SUNJATA
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.
