the endless call of your caress

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