if you really don't mind, take me as i am, take me as i am, when you get a chance
take your time, i understand, believe me when i say i carry all my sins
take your time, i understand, believe me when i say i carry all my sins
Nate nods, not sure what other help he can offer. The wing is set, bound, tight but not too tight. Sunjata is shaky, aching he’s sure, and all Nate can offer in comfort is the closeness of a cool body. Good. You’ll be back to normal in no time, right? Somehow, he sounds far brighter, far more confident about that than he really feels, though that at least is an impulse he can stifle. Even that well developed mask feels too much like lying for Nate to want to show it off to Sunjata.
The ascended pulls in a deep breath as warm darkness enshrouds him, the cover of feathers different than the leathery dragon wing, but just as familiar. He presses into the kiss greedily, both arms moving to wrap around the attuned. It feels like it’s been so long since he didn’t need to be careful, too long since he could just squeeze Sunjata close and tight. I don’t mind carrying you. Nate tries to match the lightness of Sunjata’s tone, though he’s not actually replying to what it is his husbands said. His words are too sincere, too earnest, too heavy. Talking around what he wants to say is a skill so ingrained he does it automatically, even in the moments he wants to be direct. I like... being able to do it. The trust, the closeness.
Something tries to claw its way up his throat; a confession, or some errant emotion dragged up by the wrong association. There’s so much swimming in the punchbowl of his head, Nate leaning in to press their foreheads instead of their lips together. ”Sunny?” The nickname has to fight its was through the thickness of the ascendeds throat, barely making it out understandably.
A heavy, indescribable emotion rolls off Nate in waves, an oil slick of discomfort floating atop the feeling, hiding deeper, roiling monsters. He needs to keep a hold of himself, and it’s clear he’s trying, and failing. It’s like watching someone fall in slow motion, the end result unavoidable, no matter how long the actual fall stretches out.
The ascended pulls in a deep breath as warm darkness enshrouds him, the cover of feathers different than the leathery dragon wing, but just as familiar. He presses into the kiss greedily, both arms moving to wrap around the attuned. It feels like it’s been so long since he didn’t need to be careful, too long since he could just squeeze Sunjata close and tight. I don’t mind carrying you. Nate tries to match the lightness of Sunjata’s tone, though he’s not actually replying to what it is his husbands said. His words are too sincere, too earnest, too heavy. Talking around what he wants to say is a skill so ingrained he does it automatically, even in the moments he wants to be direct. I like... being able to do it. The trust, the closeness.
Something tries to claw its way up his throat; a confession, or some errant emotion dragged up by the wrong association. There’s so much swimming in the punchbowl of his head, Nate leaning in to press their foreheads instead of their lips together. ”Sunny?” The nickname has to fight its was through the thickness of the ascendeds throat, barely making it out understandably.
A heavy, indescribable emotion rolls off Nate in waves, an oil slick of discomfort floating atop the feeling, hiding deeper, roiling monsters. He needs to keep a hold of himself, and it’s clear he’s trying, and failing. It’s like watching someone fall in slow motion, the end result unavoidable, no matter how long the actual fall stretches out.
NATE
