SUNJATA
am i being cliche?
saying that you're probably from a dream i had
saying that you're probably from a dream i had
“I do know that.” Comes the amused purr, the hum of something softer and chalk full of humor, content to linger in the bliss of this and nothing more for as long as he can. He knows they have work to do, but it doesn’t feel like very often they get a chance to be just… This. Not like they used to be, before sickness and war and children and gods. In this moment, Sunjata nearly feels as he did that day in Rae’s Fingers, when they’d found that little horseshoe shaped item for Nate to use – the very same his husband still uses to remove those pesky unwanted Ascended bites that weren’t his.
It has that little possessive bit shining a bit more in Sunjata as he considers Nate’s words, a low rumble of a whine slipping from his throat as Nate pulls away and that piercing electric gaze finds his and he finds his breath stilling in his lungs, bright steel to meet vibrant blue, though he can’t help but to let his gaze dip to Nate’s mouth, to the tongue that pokes out, to the fangs that are both on display and yet still hidden.
The scarred side of his cheek twitches in Nate’s grip into something of a crooked smirk, nostrils flaring for a brief second, some hidden bout of mischief sparking in the steel of his gaze as well as the shifts within him that start to spark and shiver up his spine and through his shoulders. No, I don’t think I will. He pauses, a slow blink given to Nate that when his lids open, there’s slit pupils of his dragon shift residing there rather than the circular pupils of his own. “I think it might make for a good surprise. And besides–” Arms remain tight around Nate’s middle as he surges through Nate’s grip on his chin to press a kiss to his husband. We have work to do, don’t we? I’ll be useless if I tell you and you start adding to what you’d be able to do with it. His tone drops into that deeper, huskier purr again, and he pulls away reluctantly, hand slipping away from his husband’s middle to search for his hand, casting a glance toward the twins that have thankfully sacked out under Pemota’s stars, before he’s slipping toward the edge of the field preparing to shift to start digging it up.
It has that little possessive bit shining a bit more in Sunjata as he considers Nate’s words, a low rumble of a whine slipping from his throat as Nate pulls away and that piercing electric gaze finds his and he finds his breath stilling in his lungs, bright steel to meet vibrant blue, though he can’t help but to let his gaze dip to Nate’s mouth, to the tongue that pokes out, to the fangs that are both on display and yet still hidden.
The scarred side of his cheek twitches in Nate’s grip into something of a crooked smirk, nostrils flaring for a brief second, some hidden bout of mischief sparking in the steel of his gaze as well as the shifts within him that start to spark and shiver up his spine and through his shoulders. No, I don’t think I will. He pauses, a slow blink given to Nate that when his lids open, there’s slit pupils of his dragon shift residing there rather than the circular pupils of his own. “I think it might make for a good surprise. And besides–” Arms remain tight around Nate’s middle as he surges through Nate’s grip on his chin to press a kiss to his husband. We have work to do, don’t we? I’ll be useless if I tell you and you start adding to what you’d be able to do with it. His tone drops into that deeper, huskier purr again, and he pulls away reluctantly, hand slipping away from his husband’s middle to search for his hand, casting a glance toward the twins that have thankfully sacked out under Pemota’s stars, before he’s slipping toward the edge of the field preparing to shift to start digging it up.
i will put you on replay
you're the tv show i'm marathonin' all damn weekend
you're the tv show i'm marathonin' all damn weekend
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
