the endless call of your caress

i bank on the funeral

It’s an all encompassing sensation that branches out within him, one that has his hips rocking into Nate’s, a primal focus on his hand at the attuned’s throat, on the way they seem to share that same overwhelming dose of sensation through to own another. Sunjata’s hand tightens in Nate’s hair, his other hand moving swiftly along his husband’s length, steel gaze both focused and unfocused as the sensations burn within him. And he could absolutely reach the peak, just like this, without much more. But Nate gives him another option, one that has the Ascended’s head tilting slightly, and teeth that sink into the attuned’s tattooed wrist.

And Sunjata burns and shudders and stumbles, head tilting back as the sensation racks through him and sounds leave him as the pressure builds and crests so much sooner than he has anticipated. But he rides it out anyway, hand tight at his throat, thighs tight against his own, sure bruises would be left behind but wanting nothing less than this feeling as he burns and burns and burns. The crested wave reaches its peak, washing over him in thick and heavy pants, a shuddering and trembling mess of himself that clings to Nate with everything he has.

'cause i learned all my lessons that way

SUNJATA