i have done bad things, did them to good people // got no self control, it's the root of my evil
wage war in my head when i'm tryna keep it peaceful // a little feels good, a little more and it's lethal
wage war in my head when i'm tryna keep it peaceful // a little feels good, a little more and it's lethal
Sunjata struggles to try and figure out when it had happened – what had unearthed it. The only thing that comes to mind is the last few days of being drug under into sleep, a pounding migraine, Vai’s constant attempts at keeping him cool when all he wanted was to burn. But then, there’s the brief feeling of pressure applied to the talon, another split second when Nate’s finger slips into his mouth. He can’t help but to snort, pulling away after a moment.
“It felt like forever.” The Flood murmurs back, always able to hear Nate’s quiet mumbles – gaze searching his face as if Nate held the answers. There’s some relief at the mention of Nate liking it, the wings flaring slightly with the thought – relaxing, no longer needing to be hidden away. And Sunjata continues to try and think up what it is, what parts of him can shift to try and give him more ideas. “It’s… Like a big lizard? Really big.” He tries to extenuate – as if he doesn’t think he could shift into it in here for fear of destroying what they’d made. At least, if the wings were any indicator.
His fingers run through Nate’s hair, blunt nails dragging along skin and shoulders, along Nate’s spine in comforting motions that he knows like the back of his hand. The line that Nate leads with his own fingers feel like a line of electricity, something sparking, armored scales taking over the spaces his hands aren’t, melding away where his hands are. His shoulders are free of the scales, forearms showing a dark shine in the shadows that he’s created, and when Nate’s fingers drag along the wing, they flare out slightly.
Sunjata, on the other hand, reacts quite like the way he does with the bat wings. Somehow these are more sensitive, despite the slight tears in the wings. There’s a low sigh that slips from his throat, warmth spreading through him as he pulls his head away slightly, fingers pulling through Nate’s hair to adjust his fiance’s attention to him, an internal blue glow coming from his throat. And then he’s surging toward Nate, aiming for a long and deep kiss.
“It felt like forever.” The Flood murmurs back, always able to hear Nate’s quiet mumbles – gaze searching his face as if Nate held the answers. There’s some relief at the mention of Nate liking it, the wings flaring slightly with the thought – relaxing, no longer needing to be hidden away. And Sunjata continues to try and think up what it is, what parts of him can shift to try and give him more ideas. “It’s… Like a big lizard? Really big.” He tries to extenuate – as if he doesn’t think he could shift into it in here for fear of destroying what they’d made. At least, if the wings were any indicator.
His fingers run through Nate’s hair, blunt nails dragging along skin and shoulders, along Nate’s spine in comforting motions that he knows like the back of his hand. The line that Nate leads with his own fingers feel like a line of electricity, something sparking, armored scales taking over the spaces his hands aren’t, melding away where his hands are. His shoulders are free of the scales, forearms showing a dark shine in the shadows that he’s created, and when Nate’s fingers drag along the wing, they flare out slightly.
Sunjata, on the other hand, reacts quite like the way he does with the bat wings. Somehow these are more sensitive, despite the slight tears in the wings. There’s a low sigh that slips from his throat, warmth spreading through him as he pulls his head away slightly, fingers pulling through Nate’s hair to adjust his fiance’s attention to him, an internal blue glow coming from his throat. And then he’s surging toward Nate, aiming for a long and deep kiss.
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.
