- NATE -
i was standing on holy ground,
so heart don't fail me now
so heart don't fail me now
Nate almost laughs, as his finger pops into and out of Sunjata's mouth. Would have laughed, if his fiancé wasn’t immediately responding to words Nate thought he’d... well, thought. It had felt like forever, too long and yet no time at all, made even longer by the fact that he can only just barely remember what came before his wandering. ”I’m not leaving again.” He promises solemnly, eye locked on Sunjata’s, giving extra weight to the words.
It’s difficult to maintain the feeling of guilt, no matter how big a fan Nate is of self flagellation, when Sunjata gives his guess about this newest shift. A big lizard? Big, big big, if the size of the wings already are anything to judge by, if his foncés words are right. ”Like a dinosaur?” How easy it is to forget that shifts can dip out if the realm of what he thinks is realistic, that dragons are a kind of natural here.
There is something almost biblical, almost holy feeling about the way scales shift to bare skin under his roaming hands. About the hands running along his own skin, into his scalp. How many people get to experience this; this trust, this love? Though thoughts of sanctified love only last so long, with the soft noise that rumbles out of Sunjata as roaming fingers trace alive the wings surface, Nate letting his hand drag along the newly outstretched length of the wing.
Nate is not used to being tugged away from his distractions, not used to being refocused, and it’s clear he’s surprised by the hands in his hair, redirecting his focus. There’s no complaint though, not when Sunjata leans in, presses a kiss against him. Nate’s others have, the one not racing designs into a wing, reaches up to cup Sunjata’s face, his thumb tracing over the blue glow in his lovers throat. What the shift is doesn’t really matter, does it? Not when it’s still Sunjata.
It’s difficult to maintain the feeling of guilt, no matter how big a fan Nate is of self flagellation, when Sunjata gives his guess about this newest shift. A big lizard? Big, big big, if the size of the wings already are anything to judge by, if his foncés words are right. ”Like a dinosaur?” How easy it is to forget that shifts can dip out if the realm of what he thinks is realistic, that dragons are a kind of natural here.
There is something almost biblical, almost holy feeling about the way scales shift to bare skin under his roaming hands. About the hands running along his own skin, into his scalp. How many people get to experience this; this trust, this love? Though thoughts of sanctified love only last so long, with the soft noise that rumbles out of Sunjata as roaming fingers trace alive the wings surface, Nate letting his hand drag along the newly outstretched length of the wing.
Nate is not used to being tugged away from his distractions, not used to being refocused, and it’s clear he’s surprised by the hands in his hair, redirecting his focus. There’s no complaint though, not when Sunjata leans in, presses a kiss against him. Nate’s others have, the one not racing designs into a wing, reaches up to cup Sunjata’s face, his thumb tracing over the blue glow in his lovers throat. What the shift is doesn’t really matter, does it? Not when it’s still Sunjata.
and even if the walls were falling down
it will always be us, this is holy ground
it will always be us, this is holy ground
