go mad for a couple grams

// now knowing how to think, i scream aloud, begin to sink
my legs and arms are broken down with envy for the solid ground //

Well he certainly isn’t expecting a laugh, but he does find it contagious in the way that she seems to let go, to loosen up, and Sunjata wonders how many people get to see her like this – if he’s simply special because he’s offered to help her become this, or if it’s simply a biproduct of the room. It’s not that he thinks her incapable – the two of them so good at keeping up their brooding exoskeleton that so many have to dig into it in order to see what cherished pieces sit beneath.

Either way, she can certainly be as rough as she wants with him and he’s never going to be one to complain. Pinning her against the wall as her own hand tugs in his hair, horns spiraling from his skull in an immediate reaction alongside the goosebumps that shiver down his spine. Her fingertips as they dig in, tracing his skin in ways that likely may leave bruises alongside different parts of him have him rumbling his own quiet approval, a groan, a growl into her mouth.

He finds her to be stiffer than the other Ascended he’s been this involved with, but it suits her in a way that he doesn’t know how to explain, but it does cause him to pull back from the kiss with a gasp of breath, the flush of his skin a deep red against his freckles and steel eyes as his hands trail up, breaking enough time to get her shirt off and follow it up with his own. It’s tossed into a pile on the floor, all scars and tattoos on full display as he dives straight for what she wants, those hands immediately rising along her sides and up her stomach, palming and cupping each of her breasts with a thumb to caress her nipples. “You can bite if you want to.” He offers her, chin tilting up, exposing more of his neck where hundreds of little pale silvery scars sit, evidence of ninety percent Nate and ten percent other Ascended thrown into the mix.

// i'm reaching for the life within me, how can one man stop his ending?
i thought of just your face, relaxed, and floated into space //

SUNJATA

WESSEX

the wraith

she tied you to her kitchen chair
she broke your throne and she cut your hair

Of the people she still speaks to? Two. Exactly two - himself and Hotaru - have seen this side of her.

But even their golden, fierce lioness is far from her mind right now as her shirt falls carelessly to the floor, quickly followed by Sunjata’s. Audibly humming in both praise and pleasure, she takes a moment to let him just touch her, to feel the calluses of his hands on her skin. The fire that’s being stoked inside her, however, does not still (thank Frey!), and at his offer, she takes one hand and brings it to her mouth, kissing along its inner side until she gets to the crook of his elbow, and then places it around her shoulders and neck.

He’ll want something to hold on to. They both will. “If you insist,” she exhales hungrily, hooded gaze going to the mess of scars on his neck. Nate flits briefly across her mind, but then he, too, is lost ot the magic. Wrapping an arm around his waist, she scrapes her fangs briefly from behind his ear to his collarbone and then comes back up again, to sink them into his throat.

Everything hits her like a mother fuckin’ freight train and the tingles become waves until she’s caught up in a tsunami and doesn’t want to let go.

and from your lips she drew
the hallelujah

// now knowing how to think, i scream aloud, begin to sink
my legs and arms are broken down with envy for the solid ground //

Oh, he takes his time exploring her, hands dancing along her skin, exploring the cool flesh both similar to Nate’s and so very different. Hands touch and drag, fingers and palms brushing against her nipples. At least, until one hand is dragged away, pulled up as her cool lips dance against his wrist to his elbow, his arm hooked around her neck as he leans in, attention focused on her intensely as his offer is made.

He isn’t really insisting, but he also kind of is. Craving that mind numbing addiction he typically finds with Nate on any given day. But she teases him with it at first, her fangs scraping along one of the first scars he’d ever sustained, goosebumps rising in their wake as his breath hitches with anticipation. But it doesn’t last long, a low rumble of an answer about to leave his lips when her fangs sink in.

It’s a crescendo, an overwhelming sense that crashes over him, incapable of keeping the moan locked tight behind his teeth. He presses forward, mind disconnected from the rest of him as he reacts, fingers digging into her shoulder from where she’s placed it, hand on her breast pinching her nipple, hips grinding into hers with exactly the kind of want and need she expects of him. He doesn’t want to pull away yet either, but he has to, to gasp for breath, to pull away and sever that connection to try and capture her lips instead, uncaring if his own blood smears along the kiss.

// i'm reaching for the life within me, how can one man stop his ending?
i thought of just your face, relaxed, and floated into space //

SUNJATA

WESSEX

the wraith

she tied you to her kitchen chair
she broke your throne and she cut your hair

His moans mirror her garbled ones as she drinks mouthful upon mouthful of his warm, tangy life. Whatever he’s doing with his hands, it all builds and pushes her closer, closer, to edge. She would have kept going - she would have - dangerously close to following in Neron’s footsteps until Jata pulls away and breaks the suction. Her need, however, doesn’t face, and neither does the predator she was born to be. Blood-smeared and messy, their lips find each other again, and she is hard, needy, and unforgiving. Her kisses mean to take.

So do her hands, as they come down to his belt. All that and they haven’t even shed their pants.

This time she breaks away. “Off,” comes the breathy command, as the Wraith tends to her own clothing, hands sliding a bit over the buttons. Buttons are terribly difficult sometimes, even more so when you’re blood-drunk, magic-addled, and very, very horny. Eventually she gets it, however, and slides the offending material over her hips. Once everything is free, she slides a hand down to her clit  - and then gestures to the bed.

As hot as fucking against a wall and doorframe is, they could have a lot more leeway on something with a bit more surface area.

and from your lips she drew
the hallelujah

// now knowing how to think, i scream aloud, begin to sink
my legs and arms are broken down with envy for the solid ground //

It’s a feat he’s aware about, even if only subconsciously – to break that mold before the bite goes too far. (It’s happened once, when the Climb Fever rampaged through them, when Nate hadn’t realized and Sunjata couldn’t remember what happened after). So he breaks that tension, the fire spreading through his veins, through his arms toward his stomach, through every bit and piece of him that seems to burn with want and need for her.

Her command is immediately followed – Sunjata incredibly good at following them despite the haziness in his mind, despite the craving need to touch her. He’s good at being whatever anyone needs in the moment, and if she wants to string him along as a puppet, he’d gladly comply. As it stands, however, his mind swims as he steps back, giving her the space as he belatedly works at his belt, shedding the rest of his clothes, following the way she gestures though he can’t help the way his gaze dips to follow her hand.

He obliges, moving over toward the bed to take a seat amongst the crisp and cool sheets, goosebumps rising along his skin from the temperature change. But he props himself up on his hands, waiting for her to decide just how she wanted this to go, scarred skin twitching as he debates between letting his attuned shifts out – the budding of horns breaking through dark curls, the threat of dragon wings shadowing behind him from his shoulders.

// i'm reaching for the life within me, how can one man stop his ending?
i thought of just your face, relaxed, and floated into space //

SUNJATA

WESSEX

the wraith

she tied you to her kitchen chair
she broke your throne and she cut your hair

It’s true, he’s terribly obedient. After this, she might perversely wonder if Nate tops him all the time or if they switch. So far she’s been calling all the shots - is it courtesy? His nature? A role decreed by Frey?

None of that matters right now. Nothing but needing to touch him again and getting that fix. It still simmers between her legs, unable to be quenched with just his blood; she needs somethign else, his hands, his tongue, his cock. Going back to an image she often visits, Wessex has a good bit of amusement to herself, while casually rubbing slow circles around her clit.

“Can I sit on your face?” she asks the propped up demigod. Slipping a couple of fingers between her legs, she can feel how slick she is, and Gods, she needs something there to fill it soon. Rising to her knees, she waits for his consent before removing her handfrom the small, now thoroughly damp puff of golden girls and settling over his mouth.

Hooded with lust though her eyes might be, there’s both a commanding ferocity in them and a fondness for the Flood. The Wraith runs her fingers through his hair again, before she reaches for a nearby sconce to stabilize herself - y'know, so she doesn't crush his head between her thighs.

and from your lips she drew
the hallelujah

// now knowing how to think, i scream aloud, begin to sink
my legs and arms are broken down with envy for the solid ground //

He could say it’s some Frey intervention, some amount of who he is now as their demigod that makes it to where he can be so malleable, so much like clay for Wessex to build upon. He could also say that yes, Nate’s the one that pushes him around, guides him, makes him obey. Nate had been the first that had gotten him to, after all. But no, the truth of the matter is that he’s here to help her relieve the tension and sorrow from everything she’s enduring, and he intends to be that mold that she can fit him into whichever way she wants to. She might not have control over the war and what’s coming, but she can certainly have the upper hand here.

And he’s glad to do it.

Hooded steel watch her as she nears him, drinking her in as the bite on his neck throbs with sensitivity, the question sparking a smirk along the scarred half of his face as his chin dips and he leans back more fully, making room for her. “Of course.” If that’s where she wanted to be, Sunjata’s got a few tricks for that as well.

Her hands find his hair and he shivers under the touch, readjusting and leaning back fully so that she can sink down over his face, hands finding the surprisingly lean and strong thighs that encompass his head like a necklace. There’s a deep inhale as he starts to partially shift, diving in between her thighs with a split tongue, one able to caress her clit with ease. And perhaps, instead of being so obedient, she can see which parts of him are rebellious enough to tease and taunt her in this moment, because rather than diving in fully, there’s the tease of a long swipe of his forked tongue, before he flicks the points hard enough for her to feel it but hardly enough for it to give her that relief she wants.

And all the while if she can see his gaze peering up at her, there’s a hint of a devilish streak in it.

// i'm reaching for the life within me, how can one man stop his ending?
i thought of just your face, relaxed, and floated into space //

SUNJATA

WESSEX

the wraith

she tied you to her kitchen chair
she broke your throne and she cut your hair

That, that split tongue thing is entirely new. Wessex doesn’t even know what it is for a moment, but it is amazingly more efficient at touching her the way she used to touch herself: rolling her fingers along either side of her clit rather than a single-minded circular motion. She leans into a wall, a deep, guttural, “Oh my Gods” slipping out as she closes her eyes and focuses on the feeling.

Until… until he finds a way to keep her an inch from the edge. Purposefully, she imagines, and that belly-heavy previously uttered Gods becomes a playful growl of frustration as she opens her eyes again, only to find impish steel-gray looking back at her. Yeah, she knows that look. She’s done it to others. And she knows she can’t really get him back in the same fashion because fangs and all. (Eating pussy is fine with fangs, but she’s so out of sucking dick practice that she doesn’t trust herself to not nick him at some point.)

“You fucking tease.” Half accusation, half-moan, she leans back to sit on his chest for a hot second. Not quite to catch her breath, because she doesn’t need to, but to decide what to do next. Between his ministrations and Frey’s magic, she’s plenty wet, so the demigod whirls herself around and slides down to his cock. Wrapping her fingers around its base, she slides the head against her wetness before slipping it inside her - just not the whole way. Holding him halfway in, one hand’s fingers find her clit again and she begins to ride him, slowly, trying to find the best angle.

and from your lips she drew
the hallelujah

// now knowing how to think, i scream aloud, begin to sink
my legs and arms are broken down with envy for the solid ground //

His mouth is quite busy as one can imagine, given that he lavishes her with each stroke and press of that split tongue of his. He can’t answer right away, can’t make any haughty comments to the moan that slips from her lips. What he can do, however, is hum a vibrating sound against her where they connect, waiting with that gleam of rebellion in his gaze for when she finally looks down at him.

She moves back just enough that he can work to catch his breath, a smirk covering his lips alongside the sheen she’s left, hands moving to support her and press against her skin wherever he can reach. “Didn’t think it’d be so easy, did—?” He’s cut off with the way she moves so quickly, a grunt of a sound leaving him as she grips his cock, lining them up, and takes him half way. “Fuck,” comes the breathy curse, hips wishing to grind into her but he waits, a few heartbeats for her to get settled, body tensing and cock twitching as he finds it in him to actually lift his torso up ever so slightly, relying on a singular elbow to keep him halfway raised.

His free hand rises from her hip to her breast, fingers moving to squeeze and tug lightly at her nipple as he starts to move his hips to the rhythm she’s chosen.

// i'm reaching for the life within me, how can one man stop his ending?
i thought of just your face, relaxed, and floated into space //

SUNJATA

WESSEX

the wraith

she tied you to her kitchen chair
she broke your throne and she cut your hair

Yes, yes, yes, she thought it was going to be that easy. Is the normally pessimistic demigod a fool for thinking so? “Maybe…” she hisses, in what is an unusually vulnerable admission, before shifting away from his tongue.

And now she is back in control, now she can hold him at bay, or let him in, inch by inch. Now to she can drive them both towards ecstasy or let them linger intortuous limbo, getting close to the crest time and time again. Enough to make them both squirm - or moan, or elicit any other slew of curse words.

Like many women, the dual action is what Wessex needs as she leans forward and finds an angle that has his cock hitting a little something extra inside her. She presses into his chest, laying a hand on his sternum to gain a little more traction as her hips roll back and forth, sliding easily along his shaft. And her other fingers work furiously again, wedged in the space between them, finding a way to draw the pleasure out of her and into little micro-pants of feel-good sounds.

Feeling the precipice nearing, Wessex’s head falls back and her eyes close as she babbles, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” and finds everything in her head narrowing to this and how she feels right now.

Nothing else exists.

and from your lips she drew
the hallelujah

// now knowing how to think, i scream aloud, begin to sink
my legs and arms are broken down with envy for the solid ground //

It is a surprisingly vulnerable admission from the Wraith, but luckily Sunjata doesn’t pay too much attention to it – especially given that she’s moving and taunting him in turn. It’s a comfortable sensation, one that Sunjata has always quickly found he thrives in. One hand seeking out her body, to touch and drag nails or claws, whatever else he decides along her pale and scarred skin, even as she presses against his sternum, where a tattoo had once sat before it had been burned.

Now all that sits there is the creeping lines of lightning scars that drift toward his heart, the tattoo of an arrow wreathed in flame over his left pectoral, and right underneath that same one? The etching of an NW that’s very clearly in the sharp edges of Nate’s handwriting.

His other arm still works to keep him propped enough, to give him some amount of movement to rock his hips into her when she’s finally prepared, growls and groans leaving his lips as she rides him and he matches her rhythm to keep driving himself into that spot she’s so quickly requested. He doesn’t stop, instead his hand rises to her hair, threading through the blonde locks as he aims to not get so wrapped up in the feel of her that it sends him over the edge before her.

This is mostly for her after all. So he continues to try and keep himself at bay, trying to push her right over the edge, moaning little words of encouragement as he does so.

// i'm reaching for the life within me, how can one man stop his ending?
i thought of just your face, relaxed, and floated into space //

SUNJATA

WESSEX

the wraith

she tied you to her kitchen chair
she broke your throne and she cut your hair

Mostly for her. Some part of it needs to be for Jata, too. Wessex has no problem taking and taking and taking, because when she isn’t trying to be good, she’s inherently selfish - the kind of woman who used to fuck, get herself off, and then walk away. It was stress relief. It still is, they both know this isn’t romantic at all, but this time she actually cares about the other naked body.

Which means that she wants the Flood to cum too.

Something in her is able to register the NW on his chest and then gloss over it. He isn’t here. They won’t be repeating this. There’s a wrist and a forearm in her line of sight and as Sunjata reaches for her hair, she twists her head and half-sinks her fangs into his arm. It’s not a very tight bite, making it messy and easily breakable, but that little bump, that little blood nudge sends her over the edge like a fucking addict. The Wraith explodes on the inside, as bright as any star-wrought supernova, but tingling with all the Voice’s electricity. Her legs shake and nails dig into his skin, and then she contracts and freezes, letting the waves roll her eyes up and pleasure sucks her in, in, in, and down, into the infinite recesses of her self.

Until she comes out the other side.

and from your lips she drew
the hallelujah

// now knowing how to think, i scream aloud, begin to sink
my legs and arms are broken down with envy for the solid ground //

Oh, Sunjata’s content either way. It’s his typical coping mechanism, it’s his little escapes of feeling the heavy weight of the world each passing second and each thundering heartbeat. He gets to forget, he gets to feel the electricity that thrums through him in moments like these. And it’s the electricity he tries not to chase too fast that he breaks before she does – its far more important for him.

But she seems to have other thoughts on her mind, each thrust trying to push her over the edge and keep himself from falling for a few seconds longer when he reaches up and she turns her head into his scarred arm – the tips of the fangs breaking skin has more of that lightning sparking, has more of his body both shuddering and trembling as he feels her dive over that edge.

He’s certainly hopeless to keep from it himself, arm half frozen to keep her fangs pressed in just a little bit longer when his tether snaps and he burns and thrives and rocks into her with reoccurring pulses of relief and release, breath heavy and panting, sweat glinting along his skin, chest heaving as he does tear his wrist away from her lips, fingers searching to press into each and every dip of her to ride it out, breathless curses leaving him with each passing second.

// i'm reaching for the life within me, how can one man stop his ending?
i thought of just your face, relaxed, and floated into space //

SUNJATA

WESSEX

the wraith

she tied you to her kitchen chair
she broke your throne and she cut your hair

It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine. The world doesn’t end when Jata rips his wrist from her mouth, though the sudden decresendo feels like a sudden molly comedown after her orgasm. It leaves her gasping - both of them gasping - him for air and her for that iron-tang connection. Her hands finds his and hold them in place and give him purchase through all their twitches and minor hip-bucking.

All this with her eyes closed, perhaps substituting another face for his, or finding it easier to focus on her own sensations without the distraction of someone else. Sensations Wessex won’t have again for a long time - not unless she wants to come here by herself.

With a needless, but clearly satisfied sigh, the Wraith opens her eyes and lightens her grip on the Flood’s hands. There’s no babymaking, no nothing to worry about with the two of them, so she lets herself sit there for a moment with the tiniest of almost-shy smiles. Almost shy - her posture, the way her eyes still roam over him a little bit, feeling no need to cover up - it all says otherwise. Until they come to the moment where they have to disengage, and that particular ‘let’s not get cum everywhere dance’ is always rather awkward, no matter how you try to do it.

and from your lips she drew
the hallelujah