the endless call of your caress

You pump the blood so I can breathe, Don't let me go don't ever leave

Breathless or not, Nate still feels like he might be drowning as he first presses into Sunjata, the growled moans from the attuned seeming at once distant, and close enough to grasp onto greedily. Fingers flex around Sunjata’s hips, squeezing and holding in equal measure, so long as they keep the man still, so long as Nate can spend a moment etching every fleeting feeling to memory, or at least try.

Nails are enough to rouse Nate from his momentary drifting, but it’s the hand in his hair that really focuses him again, that has him rising to focus bright eyes on his husband. ”You have,” His voice is strained, almost unintelligible with how much of it is growled, ”no idea how fucking good you feel.” They’re the only words Nate can manage, after so long of his mouth being otherwise occupied while they do this.

Some things never change though, an endlessly smug grin coming to his lips as Nate’s hips draw back slowly, and he presses into the hands on him, hissing just a little at the bright, almost painful feeling. While this trip, this room might benefit him the more, Nate is still going to make it more than worthwhile for them. And it starts with teasingly shallow thrusts, his normally smooth rhythm faltering as Nate finds himself wanting to rush ahead.

NATE

i bank on the funeral

He feels Nate’s eyes on him, but his are shuddered closed, letting the sensation branch through him like lightning, the stretch and overwhelming feeling of Nate having goosebumps rising along his shoulders, paired with the flush of before. He can hear his husbands words, that accent thick within them, only igniting more of that want and that need, a shuddering sigh slipping from him as he does tilt his head down just a tad, heavy lidded eyes opening to peer at his husband, to watch him in turn. Those fingers tangled in Nate’s hair tightening again, running to the back of the Ascended’s head.

He spies the smug grin, shudders and shivers again as Nate withdraws just enough and moves agonizingly slow that there’s nearly a frustrated growl that leaves him, the attempt to shift his hips to make Nate go faster or deeper or anything but this torturous shallow pace. So he presses up a bit, surging forward to catch Nate’s lips in a quick and sloppy chaste kiss, pulling away with a playful nip at his lower lip.

“Jy gaan my naai of wat?” He tries to growl but it comes out as a desperate whine, one hand leaving Nate to grip the top of the headboard for added support as he tries to grind down again, met with Nate’s hands preventing him from doing so. His steel gaze smolders and swims with lust as he stares at his husband, skin glistening with a sheen of sweat from the warmth of the room, waiting.

'cause i learned all my lessons that way

SUNJATA

You pump the blood so I can breathe, Don't let me go don't ever leave

A wild, cool gaze finds steel, Nate's chest heaving, though it does nothing to soothe the burn, the urge to move. A bright laugh leaves him as a whine reaches through the haze to caress his ears. "Vra mooi, jy weet hoe dit werk." The words leave him smoothly, the shallow aborted thrusts ruining the effect somewhat. Gods, he wanted this. Wanted to hear every sound that could be pulled from Sunjata, wanted to savour every moment of this feeling. Why was he torturing them, by prolonging anything?

"Maybe..." The single word is growled to himself, Nate's tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Just this once..." A new intensity enters his eyes, a sudden bright certainty, then his hips snap, hands pulling Sunjata against him as they do. Nate buries himself in the attuned, a harsh breath leaving him as his hips rock gently. Fuuuck, sonskyn. Everything he doesn't have the words for, every shaking spark that runs down his spine, it's all shared along with the silent groan, Nate's eyes fluttering shut.

NATE

i bank on the funeral

He does know how it works, but it still doesn’t stop his attempt to not have to do it. He’s about an inch away from trying to fight the hard grip on his hip. There’s a bit more of a whine that passes his nose, nostrils flaring slightly as Nate begins to speak and Sunjata’s about two seconds away from giving Nate what he wanted. But his husband relents, just enough, a branch given to Sunjata that he clings to with quiet panting breaths.

He hangs onto every word, swallowing down hard as the growl reaches his ears, unprepared for Nate to give in so quickly. But then Nate’s hips snap and Sunjata’s flush against his husband, hands releasing whatever they’ve latched onto, to instead grip onto Nate. “Fuck.” The moan leaves him in a heavy growl, a hoarseness to it with a parched throat, breaths increasing and thrumming through him with every rock of Nate’s hips, a gasping goosebump ride of pleasure shuddering through his spine. His eyes close, head tilted back, hips grinding against Nate, unable to comprehend or utter any words, trying to soothe the ache within him to bring him to the edge of the wave that builds within him.

'cause i learned all my lessons that way

SUNJATA

You pump the blood so I can breathe, Don't let me go don't ever leave

Giving in seems to make everything that much sweeter, a smile tugging at the edges of Nate's lips, though it can't settle, not with the rush of sound leaving him, with the hands moving to hold him. Something pricks behind his eyes, something he can't name quite yet, even as he leans into the grasping hands as much as he can.

Nate arches, leans over Sunjata without displacing himself, crashing a kiss that is all tongue and teeth against him. It's more of a stretch than Nate is used to, an irritatingly clear thought in his mind, when everything is overwhelmed by the shaking want driving his hips, his hands. To move, he has to break the kiss, a shuddering gasp leaving him as he pulls back, just enough to slam against Sunjata again.

He settles more or less into a rhythm, slower than usual, but harder, Nate giving in again and again to feeling, to the sweet sensation. Giving into the flame growing high and higher in his chest, running to the edge that he hasn't even been able to see for so long before this. He's not going to last long, but he's going to drag Sunjata along with him, one of his hands releasing the attuned's hip to wrap around his cock instead.

NATE

i bank on the funeral

A crashing kiss that’s tongue and teeth with a brief force, enough that Sunjata can almost taste a tinge of iron on his tongue and it spurs him on all the more. To return those desperate, needy kisses, panting whines leaving his nose at the sensation that builds slowly within him, spurred on entirely by Nate. The kiss breaks, just in time for Sunjata to take a deep breath – as deep as he can before Nate’s rocking into him again and it exhales in a shuddering moan, body arcing slightly and fingers digging into Nate’s skin.

It builds and it builds, but it isn’t until Nate’s rhythm is set and his hip is released in favor of his aching cock that Sunjata shudders and growls again. He releases one hand from where it digs into Nate’s skin, to run up the side of his husband’s neck, fingers tangling into the wild curls, and tugging at the strands with an almost feral desperation. His head tilts back ever so slightly, eyes opening but remaining heavily lidded, watching his husband as the wave begins to crest, an electricity that sparks through his veins and branches out through his trembling fingertips to his shaking thighs.

'cause i learned all my lessons that way

SUNJATA

You pump the blood so I can breathe, Don't let me go don't ever leave

A shuddering groan leaves Nate as the wave crashes into him, taking him off guard with how powerful it was. He manages to keep a hold of himself and stay upright until Sunjata’s fingers tangle in his hair, Nate pitching forward almost too suddenly. He rolls his hips hard, once, twice, three times, before his own twitching fingers find their way along the attuned’s side. Nate presses his face in against the crook of Sunjata’s neck and settles there, his lips just barely brushing the hammer of his pulse.

”I love you.” The words are hoarse, mumbled more than said, Nate not bothering to move at all. He’s satisfied, surprisingly exhausted, one of those states soemthing that can only last so long before he’s ready to go again. With the way the heat of the room still wraps around him, it may be sooner than Nate thinks as well. Both hands move to trace along Sunjata’s chest, his sides, one of them wiped on the bedspread before moving.

Try as he might to keep up his tough facade, Nate is quickly overwhelmed by feelings, feelings of an almost human nature. As soon as he starts to calm properly, so many things strike Nate, se to really hit him. He can fel Sunjata, the weight in his arms, the residual warmth leaving him. He can feel the hand still tangled in his hair, sending shivers down his spine and making him twitch every time it shifts.

NATE

i bank on the funeral

The wave hits and Sunjata’s shuddering, writhing and rocking with the force of it all, attempting to capture his breath and recover his pulse. It’s an entire ordeal, one that has him leaning backward a bit, pulling Nate tighter to him, the flush thick and his skin gleaming with sweat from an already too warm room with pulses that seem to make everything shorten. Nate’s lips against his pulse ignite more of it, but Sunjata settles, fingers now running through curls and his head nuzzling Nate’s cheek ever so gently. “I love you too.” He murmurs, hoarse and breathlessly, the burning reduced to a simmer as he melts wrapped up in his husbands arms.

Only a few moments more and he’s settled a bit more, the both of them readjusting, cleaning up, and yet still tangled up in one another. It’s no matter though, not as Sunjata’s leaning forward, snatching a soft and warm kiss to the side of Nate’s lips, a roguish smile softening the edges there. “I have something for you.” He murmurs softly, pressing forward enough but keeping an arm around Nate as he reaches for the pair of discarded pants, searching a pocket for what he seeks.

When he finally finds it, he keeps it closed in his right hand, clutched and hidden beneath lightning scars as he situates the both of them again. And then, after a moment, he can’t help the crooked grin that spreads along his face as he opens up his palm. A necklace, made of sea panther fangs, one Deimos had taken from the day Sunjata had nearly died to the lightning strike, given back as… an apology, perhaps, for the miscommunication? He can’t remember that well, but he pauses long enough for Nate to get a good look before he’s reaching up to tie it around Nate’s neck, finding something quite appealing with the idea of it being the only thing Nate wears right now. “It’s from the sea panther, when I got struck by lightning. It’s the panther’s fangs. I thought it suited you.” Fingertips drag softly along Nate’s collarbone, before reaching up to run along his jawbone.

'cause i learned all my lessons that way

SUNJATA

You pump the blood so I can breathe, Don't let me go don't ever leave

Every part of Nate fights against Sunjata shifting, trying to move away, his ars tightening and his legs hooking around the attuned as if he could stop the inevitable. Impatient eyes lock on Sunjata as he finally manages it, Nate all but huffing every moment his husband is distant. The murmur is enough to keep his attitude at bay, barely, his arms growing a bit more forgiving. Situating them again involves a lot more of Nate on top of the other man than it had before, as if to ensure there was no way the attuned could shift again.

One of Nate's arms untangles itself from the mass of limbs they're piled in, the hand moving to rest on top of Sunjata's, fingers brushing along the Lichtenberg scars racing towards the attuned's heart. Blinking away the sudden quaver in his eyes, Nate smiles softly, leaning into the hand on his face. "Thank you, Sunny." He doesn't glance down to look at himself, can't tear his eyes away from his husbands face, but it feels right on him, a slight weight he can't help but be aware of.

Nate begins to slip out of Sunjata's hands slowly, too carefully to be anything other than intentional. Some part of him feels like he should rise, should show off just a little bit, but a much greedier part of him refuses to, wanting to bask in feeling for as long as possible. "We need a fuckin' place like this back home." The words are accompanied by a rumbling laugh, Nate pressing his face in against the bite scarred throat of his husband. "You're so warm."

NATE

i bank on the funeral

There’s reluctance and far more work given into the way Sunjata has to disentangle himself from his husband, but he manages – manages to return back as well, situating them just as before, if not closer, to place the necklace around Nate’s neck. Fingers run along Nate’s collarbones before withdrawing slightly, Nate’s hand joining his own and tracing along the pink scars on his hand, all the way to his chest. Steel remains fixated on the Ascended’s face, watching for every movement, every second for a possible reaction to the necklace, but Nate doesn’t look down to peer at it.

Instead, he starts to almost slip out of his hands – Sunjata’s fingertips twitching as if he’s debating clinging to his husband and keeping him near. Those thoughts are banished with the words that leave the Ascended’s lips, a half smile forming on Sunjata’s face with a quiet breathy chuckle. “We do. I wonder if the Voice might be willing to help with that.” He murmurs, raising a brow in a far more devilish look, before he feels Nate’s face press against his throat, over scars the Ascended has placed there and never once removed, ones that Sunjata’s worn as badges of honor.

A low hum is returned when Nate says he’s warm, hands moving so that he might wrap his arms around Nate’s shoulders, keeping the other man close as he brushes his cheek against the side of his head, face buried in raven curls. “I am. A furnace, as I’ve been told.” He says with some bit of amused pride. But then a thought occurs to him, one that has his shoulders beneath where Nate’s face is, flitting through with navy feathers, soft and downy, laying flat against the bronze tattooed skin. "What else?" He asks quietly. 'What else do you feel?'

'cause i learned all my lessons that way

SUNJATA

You pump the blood so I can breathe, Don't let me go don't ever leave

Nate feels the twitch of fingers as he shifts, and grins brightly as he slips closer, glad there’s no resistance. Some part of him is surprised by the suggestion Sunjata makes, a thoughtful noise leaving him, but a larger part of him is already considering it, the kind of hoops he’d have to jump through. ”We need a real compelling argument for it.” And not the obvious, not what they want it for, but something that will convince the Goddess that this is more than a frivolous fancy. They have time, at least, to mull on it, and they have time now to spend wrapped up in each other.

”You’ve been told right.” It’s not exactly possible for Nate to press in closer to his husband, but that doesn't stop him trying, pressing against his head against the scruff of stubble and the warm beat of Sunjata’s heart. Feathers bloom into existence under Nate’s face, his nose wrinkling in tickled surprise, before he rubs his cheek against this new sensation. A rumbling purr leaves him, wrapping around his mumbled words. ”Warm and soft? What don’t you have Sunny?”

While Nate speaks, cuddles, his hands roam. One slowly finds its way up into Sunjata’s hair, fingers brushing through the short strands a handful of times before settling. That other shifts back and forth across the attuned’s chest, Nate trying to commit every tiny detail to memory, so he has something to cling to when they leave, and all of his feeling leaves once again.

NATE

i bank on the funeral

“We’ll think of something.” He murmurs softly, voice rumbling and vibrating through his throat, against where Nate rests his head. Arms slink around Nate’s shoulders, a soft huff of a sound that leaves him in confirmation to his warmth, cuddled close to his husband and effectively lost in a tangle of limbs and happy contentment that has his mind nuzzling, feathers ruffling along his shoulders beneath Nate’s cheek.

A soft sigh leaves him as Nate’s hands roam, smoothing over feathers, heat radiating from his skin and soaked up by the Ascended’s body, a reflection back into his own. His hands lift, fingers running and snagging on rogue curls, a crooked lilt to his lips. The feathers shift into the thick soft fur of his panther shift, the lower part of his arms shifting to the smooth sleek skin of his orca shift. And from his crown, from where the horns still spiral, the back of his neck shifts into the thick coarse mohawk fur of his Nyala shift.

His head nuzzles in close, one hand pulling away from Nate to instead capture his hand. He brings it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss there before diverting it down, to run the Ascended’s hand softly along each varying texture of fur and skin. “I don’t have everything, but I do have a lot.” It comes out as a near whisper, that same crooked smile placed along his face.

'cause i learned all my lessons that way

SUNJATA

You pump the blood so I can breathe, Don't let me go don't ever leave

They would think of something. And if they didn’t, or, worse, if they were denied then they’d manage. Having any place where he could indulge in warm tingling sensation was better than having nowhere to, even if it’s nothing but inconvenient.

Feathers shift again beneath his cheek, bringing a tickle that has Nate twitching, made better only marginally as the feathers are replaced with a dark and luxuriant fur. The ascended presses in closer, burying his face on the softness with a content rumble. Not for the last time, he’s glad for the ring, for the silent bond between them. The open flow of warm adoring feelings are all Nate can manage, words utterly failing him.

There’s no resistance at all as Nate’s hand is grabbed, guided to a plethora of different feelings that are all still immediately recognizable as Sunjata. The smooth skin of the orca, defying all expectations by still being warm to the touch. The warm down of the panthers fur, where his face is still buried happily. The coarse brush of the nyala, Nate’s fingers following the mohawk up, to the base of the horns, perhaps his favourite of the partial shifts his husband uses regularly.

Without dislodging himself too much, Nate shifts, one leg thrown over Sunjata in slow motion. All at once, the ascended is straddling the attuned, trying to press closer, though there’s no space left to fill between them. Are you trying to rip me off darlin’? Without the restriction of his mouth, Nate’s accent is thick, and made worse by the sheer force of emotion carried in the words. Come on, let me fée all of them. While it’s not asked for directly, the sense of warm safety that usually accompanies the tent of dragons wings drifts across the bond.

NATE

i bank on the funeral

There’s something symbolic about the way Nate nuzzles in closer to the panther fur that spreads along his shoulders. A reflection of the first night they had together, Sunjata curled up as a panther along the bed. But there’s no words to be said, not as the feelings filter through the ring to him and Sunjata nuzzles his head in closer, eyes shutting after pressing the kiss to Nate’s knuckles, pulling his husbands hand along the edges of the varying shifts, the smooth blubbery skin of the orca, to the coarse and  rough mohawk of the nyala. When Nate’s fingers brush along the smooth horns, however, there is a brief hum of a sound that slips from him that he swallows down.

His eyes open, head pulled back slightly, scanning Nate’s face as he’s straddled and pressed in close – the sound of Nate’s voice, thick with that accent he adores, filling his mind and causing a half smirk to cross his face. “Of course not.” Sunjata murmurs, aloud, knowing it wouldn’t break this smooth atmosphere that’s been created and crafted. And all at once, that sensation of the dragon pouring through the bond reacts with the dragon within him – something also oddly symbolic about Nate settled here in his lap, protectiveness coursing through him briefly as he peers at Nate – his treasure, the one that must be hoarded and kept to himself.

So he relinquishes the hold on the other partial shifts, until only the horns remain – and the smooth velveteen wings of the bat spread along his shoulders and arms, his neck shifting slightly into the hardened armor of the dragon, Sunjata leaning forward into the Ascended to make a bit more room as the wings unfurl from his back, shifting to wrap them up in a warm darkness. The wings that encase them are rougher, edged with a bit more sleekness than the bats – still sensitive, but not as soft or velveteen as the bat shift. But he still guides Nate’s hands to both spots, his eyes partially shifting to the dragon’s slits so he might see his husband better in this makeshift darkness. Is that better? If he’s being honest, he’s left the best for last.

'cause i learned all my lessons that way

SUNJATA