Silver, Sharp, and Could Not Care

SUNJATA

look who's digging their own grave
this is what they all say; you'll drink yourself to death

“I don’t know.” And he really doesn’t. Something about talking to the Voice. Something about figuring out where Nate was in the first place. He doesn’t know. All he knows is that he was one of what felt like the last to know. But it was with the promise that Nate would be back and that had to be enough for him. That or exploding his husband’s body. Something he conveniently doesn’t bring up for the moment.

Either way, their foreheads press together and Sunjata takes a deep inhale, breathing in the scent of his husband - something in it soothing the dragon shift residing in his skin threatening to make a show despite how he swallows it down. It’s been so long since he’d had the ability to do it, another recent return in the absence of the Ascended. “I love you too.” He manages around a mouth full of cotton, unable to form the words as his heart thunders, jolts against his neck where Nate’s pressing in their embrace.

He tilts into the hand in his hair, hating the way this conversation was heading but knowing deep down that it was the only way it ever would. The steel gaze closes, another sniff, arms looping tighter around his husband’s neck, lips parting to speak before he finds he can’t get anything out. It’s this moment that also makes him glad for the loss of the bond between them, because the surge of his chest feels akin to glass shattering, his stomach churning in its sudden nausea.

He doesn’t want to be the safe one. What does he do if this happens again? If the Voice isn’t around to save him again? So he doesn’t speak, can’t get the words out without them sounding like gibberish. Instead, he finds some of that newfound strength, tugging Nate closer as he burrows his face into his husband’s neck as feathers dance down the back of his neck, in the shorter curls, pouring down his spine and chest in a sea of navy blue.

look who makes their own bed, lies right down within it
and what will you have left?

NATE

i would do anything for you to love me,
like i'm an american hero, baby

“Shhhhh.” Nate responds to the words that don’t come, pulling Sunjata’s head in against his shoulder. Lips press in against his crown, arms real and staticky wrapping around Sunjata until he’s cocooned. He’s trying to be too much. A season gapes, empty and echoing, between now and the last time they’d touched, and that is a hole too big to fill with a dozen small gestures. Fingers card through hair and feathers both, Nate refusing to let any part of himself fall too still right now.

A long breath draws in through his nose, Nate filing his lungs with the heavy, calming smell of his husband before he even tries to open his mouth. It’s not a conversation he wants to have. It’s one they need to have though. “No matter what happens, sonskyn, you have to keep living. For me.” Even as the plea leaves him, Nate feels a prick of guilt for the selfishness of his words, for the burden he lays on Sunjata’s shoulders. “One of us has to.” A kiss presses into his hair, a soft sound leaving Nate’s throat.

“I’m here.” He mumbles, nosing at Sunjata’s cheek to try and press their foreheads together again. Nate wants his hands on his husbands face, wants to feel the weight of his gaze, his emotions. “I’m here now, and we have time. We have time and I have you and it’s okay.” The hysterical edge in Nate’s voice is familiar by now, desperate and scared and hiding away from those facts. “Right? Darling, tesoro, right? Everything’s just fine.”

star-spangled in my manner, shaking
every man's hand in the presidential manor, you see

SUNJATA

look who's digging their own grave
this is what they all say; you'll drink yourself to death

The shushing is really what undoes him. He’ll say it was an overwhelming sensation of Nate being back, of dumping all this information (and not even all of it) into his husband’s lap, things carried, things remembered despite the state of his mind, helped only by the second little scrapbook he’s made for him, sitting under the lantern on the shelf in the corner.

Sunjata trembles, muscles twitching like a leaf as he presses in against Nate more, clinging to his voice and yet simultaneously trying to ignore the words. No matter how much he tries, though, they burrow into him. Little bullets shot straight through him, the ricochet adding to his trembling. There’s a gasp of breath so harsh in comparison to the plea, to the coo, a shake of his head as he grits his teeth hard. “Don’t.” Comes his own little plea.

He doesn’t want this. He’s never wanted this. It’s what makes him want to hide more despite Nate’s attempts to bring him into the view of those electric blues. He wants to fall apart, the glue keeping him together eroding under each and every tremble. But he does it anyway, another gasp of breath (he knows he should keep breathing, that it’ll make it easier to get the tears to subside, the tightness of his throat, but he doesn’t) held in his lungs until they ache by the time he finally moves his head to press his forehead against the Ascended’s.

It’s a stormy, glassy gaze as he looks at Nate, blurred with how close they are. “You’re here.” He croaks out weakly, feathers ruffling as he unwinds his arms from his husband’s neck, drawing his hands down Nate’s shoulders and chest to instead wrap around his middle.

look who makes their own bed, lies right down within it
and what will you have left?

NATE

i would do anything for you to love me,
like i'm an american hero, baby

Arms tighten minutely, trying to hold the rattling pieces of Sunjata together, trying to hold steady. He deserves better than this, so much better, and yet this is all he can offer. “I’m sorry.” Nate apologizes immediately, fingers digging into Sunjata wherever they can. “I’m sorry. I need you to. I need you to say you will.” It’s not something he can leave, not something he can rest easy without. There are few things in the world he truly trusts, and nothing more than Sunjata’s word. He just needs to… actually get it.

It’s not ideal. Ideal is living together forever. Growing old and existing for nothing more than the other. Ideal is well beyond their reach. Nate wants what moments he can snatch and shove greedily in his mouth. Thumbs wipe at Sunjata’s eyes, smearing tears away without a word as they finally press together. “Haal asem, liefie, asseblief.” A soft plea, easier to grant than Nate’s last one had been. “You’re okay, Sunny, you’re doing well. I’ve got you.”

A paler than usual, fluidshot gaze meets the hazy steel, Nate forcing himself to focus, to wrestle detail from the too close picture. “I’m here.” He repeats again, voice growing warm, distant. A cool hand cups Sunjata’s face, damp thumb stroking at his cheek before Nate leans in to steal a kiss, to cement his presence in the moment. He’s here, alive and fine and fighting for every spare second they can have together.

Hunger pangs in his jaw suddenly, Nate’s mouth watering and his tongue prying its way in between his husbands lips. He draws back before the attuned can grow truly breathless, kissing at his cheeks and jaw, each press a little harder, the imprint of fangs pressing from the other side of his lips.

star-spangled in my manner, shaking
every man's hand in the presidential manor, you see

SUNJATA

look who's digging their own grave
this is what they all say; you'll drink yourself to death

Nate shouldn’t be the sorry one and yet here Sunjata is, making an absolute mess of everything yet again. He tries to pull himself together, tries to get a grip, and yet the request that comes has a little squeak of a sound leaving him as his lungs cave, as his chest throbs. His brows pinch, some hidden and hard to find glimmer of defeat crossing the stormy steel. “I will.” He manages, muffled and mumbled but the request has been answered even if every bone in his body protests, fights, pushes against it.

He doesn’t want to breathe through the tightness in his chest even if his body aches, he wants to simply hold his breath until this terrible feeling passes, until he has no other choice than to be okay. But he isn’t. He isn’t sure he will be. But he is headstrong, stubborn, and perhaps in this promise Sunjata can create something that Nate can come home to.

Because he has to.

So he breathes, long enough for the feeling to subside, for Sunjata to realize his mistake in diving into absolutely everything so quickly, into having this hard conversation when Nate has just woken up. Internally he chastises himself, leaning into each touch he can, greedily like a child. He doesn’t care that his tears shine on his cheeks. Doesn’t care that Nate sees him like this. Because he loves him anyway and that’s truly all Sunjata can ask for.

It’s with an amount of reckless abandon that Sunjata dives into the kiss back, fingertips digging into Nate’s lower back, pulling back from the kiss to suck down a greedy breath because so long as their lips meet, the less they can say, the less Sunjata can continue to ruin the joy of Nate being back. He leans into each kiss to his jaw, to his cheeks, pausing when he realizes belatedly just why Nate might be so greedy, and it only adds to the spark of guilt spiraling momentarily in his gut.

His hand snakes back up, fingers threading through Nate’s dark locks, using a bit of newfound strength to tug his head into the crook of his neck and to tilt his chin up. It isn’t much but hopefully it’s enough.

look who makes their own bed, lies right down within it
and what will you have left?

NATE

i would do anything for you to love me,
like i'm an american hero, baby

“Darling, Sunshine, my… my precious, my love, Sunjata.” Nate can feel himself babbling, warmth pouring off his tongue easily, without a thought, softening the blow for what has to follow. “Thank you, my heart, my soul, my everything.” It shouldn’t be relief, not really. “I’m sorry. I… I won’t leave on purpose.” Does that make it better, or worse? Nate’s not sure he’s capable of telling at the moment.

Regardless, it’s the only hard conversation he can manage at the moment, some part of him slumping, if not physically then mentally, as it finally settles, as he leans harder agaisnt the other man, supporting and being supported in equal amounts, even if it feels like he should be offering so much more. Even if he’s about to simply take.

It’s an invitation Nate needs to be offered only once, a low groan sounding in his own throat as he’s pulled against the other man’s. He hesitates for a moment, long enough to pretend like he isn’t desperate, mouthing at warm skin and a thundering pulse and feeling every single part of himself ache. Without drawing it out any longer, Nate bites, moaning and rolling his hips as sensation and heat scorches every inch of him. He finally feels his apparent rebirth, hands dragging at Sunjata’s back, his hips, his head.

Drawing back, Nate let’s his tongue work over the new marks, cleaning away any blood that might have escaped. Finally, there’s a hum in his body that matches the one in his mind, Nate even less willing to be still, his body rocking against his husband insistently. “I love you.” He slurs, voice rough. “’M real for you. Want you.”

star-spangled in my manner, shaking
every man's hand in the presidential manor, you see

SUNJATA

look who's digging their own grave
this is what they all say; you'll drink yourself to death

The words are jumbled, a babbling that Sunjata clings to as if it might push away his confession, the acceptance of this role that Nate’s put him in. It doesn’t work, though. The admission of the Ascended not doing it intentionally doesn’t help, making it worse in some aspects as Sunjata fights to ignore the way that he can imagine that scenario going. But to live without him?

It wouldn’t really be him. A shell, perhaps, but he’d never recover.

So he tugs Nate’s head into the crook of his neck, inhaling a sharp breath because at the very least he can provide this without complaint (without the admission of something he doesn’t want to do, because he wants this — to be able to provide, protect, prolong). As far as he’s concerned, Nate can take whatever he wants. A part of him wonders Nate already has, if the thought of losing him paralyzes him too much.

Sure, he’s been bit by quite a few Ascended as of late, but none of them ever compare to his husband. The teeth sink in and Sunjata chokes on a gasp and a moan, fingers tightening into dark raven curls and into Nate’s spine, horns slipping out from the Flood’s skull, barely noticing the lightness he feels despite how heavy Nate is in his lap. The Ascended’s hips roll, Sunjata humming with the applied pressure, relief and tension as a boomerang between his emotions.

He pulls his head up, lips seeking out Nate’s, capturing his in another chaste kiss before he noses his way to his jaw and neck. “Love you too.” He pants, the thin pair of shorts he’s wearing doing little to hide how he’s affected as he grinds his hips against the pressure Nate gives him. “I missed you.” He adds, biting down on Nate’s neck, applying some pressure that he knows the Ascended will be able to feel.

look who makes their own bed, lies right down within it
and what will you have left?

NATE

i would do anything for you to love me,
like i'm an american hero, baby

Even if the touches are light, a barely there pressure he’s long since learned to be satisfied with, Nate moans and arches into them, wishing they’d leave behind silvery bruises. Tangible marks that he can press into and remember. A thread stitching him into the present, pinning him down and keeping him real. His hand shifts in Sunjata’s hair, releasing the handful of brown to grab the base of his horn instead, his thumb an insistent pressure agaisnt the sensitive base of the partial shift.

Nate tries his damnedest to chase after the kiss, wanting more, wanting to drink in the gasped breath from his husband, to taste the inside of his mouth, to swallow every sound that escapes him. It’s not to be though, Sunjata pressing agaisnt his throat, the pressure of his teeth driving whined words out of the ascended. “Love you.” A soft echo, a mantra, saying everything else Nate can’t give words to. “’M sorry.” This is softer still, barely there as his legs tighten around Sunjata’s hips, Nate trying to build the heat between them into an inferno. He tugs the other man in closer again, whining for another bite, another spark of almost painful pressure.

It’s still not enough though, not close enough, and Nate doesn’t know if it’s greedy or the opposite when he pulls away, searching for steel eyes, his own all but glowing. “Can I… will you let me… lay back, Sunny, for me, please?” It’s unfair how easy it is for Nate to sound breathless, considering he doesn’t breathe. “Let me treat you, please, I’ll take care of you, okay?” Nate has never really been above begging, but this is different, the desperation and keening want impossible to hide from his tone.

He has so much to make up for, and this is just the first of a dozen small steps, but it’s still the first. So long as Sunjata will let him.

star-spangled in my manner, shaking
every man's hand in the presidential manor, you see

SUNJATA

look who's digging their own grave
this is what they all say; you'll drink yourself to death

If he’s being completely honest, there is no even ground to try and find between the pain each other’s actions have caused for each other. Perhaps Nate’s ‘death’ was simply a payback, an evening out, of when Sunjata had struck his deal with Safrin. Perhaps there’s nothing in it for Sunjata to wish Nate would atone for, because the fact that he was back was balming enough to the hurt caused on his heart.

There’s a low hum of a sound that leaves him in response to Nate’s words, teeth latching on in a new spot, sucking in those silvery scars even as his husbands legs tighten around his hips, as his skin flushed with want and need and crimson so stark to Nate’s silver, opalescent own blushes.

He does, however, meet Nate’s gaze with far more ease now, hazy and pupil blown steel meeting those vibrant, breath catching blues, framed in a nest of raven curls. “Of course,” I’d let you do anything you want to me. “You always do, Skatjie.” Comes the rumbling purr, the twitch of his scarred lip in a smile, far more emotional to be wolfish and playful as he intends.

And he does just as requested, shifting with Nate, moving to lay back down into the bed yet still keeping that connection of his hands on his husband — Alive above him like some kind of angel, like this was some kind of ascension.

look who makes their own bed, lies right down within it
and what will you have left?

NATE

i would do anything for you to love me,
like i'm an american hero, baby

“I do my very best.” The words carry all the solemn weight of a promise, even underneath the breathless rush of them. Nate can’t stop himself from sinking down after his husband, capturing that smile in a kiss that he stretches out as long as Sunjata will let him. Real hands follow the attuned’s sturdy arms, trailing fingertips winding around his wrists while static hands move over his body, a teasing tingling touch, save for one still firmly wrapped around a spiralling horn, holding Sunjata’s head still.

For a single second, Nate thinks about pinning Sunjata’s wrists down, about holding him down to the bed and keeping him there. Maybe forever. Maybe just until he’s satisfied that every ounce of his love has been pressed in to Sunjata’s skin, his bones, his blood. Until he’s sure that every thump of his still beating heart whispers Nate.

Just a second though. The next one reminds him how unfair that would be, how upset he’d be if he couldn’t touch Sunjata after a season. Gods, he still can’t fully swallow that knowledge, Nate holding the time in his mouth and running his tongue over the sore it’s made, a constant reminder that he makes worse every time he remembers it. Hands release Sunjata’s wrists, trailing back down his arms until Nate gets up on his elbows, holding himself that much higher above Sunjata.

A thankfully complete set of eyes pick slowly over the Demi-gods body, Nate making careful note of each new bite or scar, of the places where sleepless nights and stress have worn new lines into his husbands face. The liquid gaze rises, pouring over Sunjata’s hair with the same careful intensity. “I can’t believe you cut your hair.” It’s an easier tease, a fake hurt to fuss over instead of the deep, aching scars in each of them. More silvery strands catch the ascendeds eye, the worry reverberating in his head, locked behind lying eyes and an adoring grin.

“Fuck, I need sunglasses just to look at you, baby.” Praise is an easy cover, truths on truths on truth just to cover the lie. It helps that these are words he wouldn’t have had to even speak at one point, every part of his soul bared to Sunjata through their bond. Nate has a chance to very clearly think I should feel guilty for only saying that to distract him before he follows it up with something so blisteringly sincere he tears up as he says it. “You… you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, my beautiful Sun. The best thing that will ever happen to me.”

And then, because he is still himself, and can only drool out so much serious emotion before he starts to gag, follows it up a moment later with: “I really, desperately need to suck your dick about it.”

star-spangled in my manner, shaking
every man's hand in the presidential manor, you see

SUNJATA

look who's digging their own grave
this is what they all say; you'll drink yourself to death

It’s a promise sealed with a kiss, one that Sunjata doesn’t want to break out of but has to when his lungs heave. He lays back, hands stuck to his husband as long as he can, even as his hands are moved, as he feels the cool fingertips on his wrists, pressure applied along his skin that has goosebumps rising in their wake. He sucks down a breath, one he doesn’t hold, trying his best to even out his breath even though each and every touch Nate offers seems to offer more and more promises.

Truthfully, if Nate wanted to tear him apart and rebuild him himself, Sunjata wouldn’t be opposed. If he wanted to carve his name into each and every bone in his body, Sunjata would leap at the opportunity. Yet for his heart? His heart has always pumped in a rhythm just for him. But his hands are released, Sunjata swallowing hard as he peers at Nate through a half lidded gaze, the pressure applied to the horn keeping him still enough, not wanting to ruin this moment with that rebellious streak that burns through him.

“Longheat was hot.” Sunjata complains, a small whine, a crooked smile that’s toothy and sharp, one that grows softer as Nate speaks again, as his husbands words wash over him and a sudden flush of not just attraction, lust, and adoration covers his skin, but one of bashfulness – his gaze breaking from his husband’s vibrant blues to glance at the shadowed ceiling, the hand in raven curls pushing further in, tangling and tugging as he goes. “Please.” He trails off, about to make some kind of snarky comment, only to be cut off when the words continue.

His gaze flickers back toward his husband’s face now, scanning him with something softer, something more open. “If I’m your sun, you’re my supernova.” He breathes, his breath evened out, something gentler crossing his face until Nate’s words hit him and he barks an actual laugh – hushing himself quickly as he tugs Nate’s hair a bit more, raises that scarred eyebrow. “What’re you waiting for then?” It comes out as a purr, a shift into more of that playfulness, relief that his husband’s back.

look who makes their own bed, lies right down within it
and what will you have left?

NATE

i would do anything for you to love me,
like i'm an american hero, baby

“Longheat was hot” Nate mocks breezily, leaning in when he’s tugged to press his nose and lips to the corner of Sunjata’s jaw, a gentle, reverent kiss brushing against sun-soaked skin. He only draws back when steel eyes leave him, Nate’s brow’s furrowed above his own cool gaze. It’s not every often that he stumbles on something that can make the attuned react like this, and its even more rare for it to be said out loud, something warm and sated settling behind Nate’s ribs as he realises.

A soft sigh accompanies the fluttering of Nate’s eyes, the pressure against his hair sending a shiver down his spine, teasing deadened nerves. Somehow, he manages to push his tongue out between his teeth, adding a near lecherous bend to his smug expression. Just like that, they’re meshed together like gears, fitting together perfectly, easily. “Oh, I dunno...” Static fingers circle Sunjata’s nipples, Nate taking the moment to consider, as if he isn’t aware of how much of a tease the gesture is. “I guess I’m waiting for you to say how much you need it.” Heat wraps around his words, the ascended drawing back to cock his head at his husband, expectant now.

star-spangled in my manner, shaking
every man's hand in the presidential manor, you see

SUNJATA

look who's digging their own grave
this is what they all say; you'll drink yourself to death

The mocking arises a very visible roll of his eyes - at least before the steel has managed to peer back at Nate, something soft and brittle in the expression that he can’t put words to but make him feel like both the luckiest man as well as the most undeserving. Instead of saying anything else, though, he leans into the tease, into the comfortable weight the Ascended places on him, hips rocking against the other man as he hums a sound more akin to a growl, horned head pressing up against where Nate’s pinned him down by the root of one of those spiraled horns.

Of course, the teasing spurs him to be a bit more brief, a bit more throaty when his lips part to respond. He could be an asshole, he could say oh? The fact I’ve slept with plenty of Ascended since you died hoping it’d be you and nobody else came close isn’t enough? But he doesn’t. He simply flashes another toothy smirk at his husband, head tilting up and exposing more of his neck when Nate’s attention is fully on him.

He’s preening, absolutely he is, drawing his tongue along his teeth, to the sharpened points in a mockery of Nate’s own fangs. “Is that so?” He drawls, finally deciding on an answer, his attention half lidded as he withdraws his hands from Nate’s hair, sliding it along his jaw, running a calloused thumb along Nate’s lower lip. His tongue dips out from gliding across his pale teeth to press into his cheek, fully making a show as he rolls his chest into the Ascended’s cool hands. “Think I might die if I don’t get your mouth on my dick.” He comments with a small smirk - perhaps a comment too soon, but one that leaves his mind in a haze.

look who makes their own bed, lies right down within it
and what will you have left?

NATE

i would do anything for you to love me,
like i'm an american hero, baby

“You might die?” Nate is the exact right amount of dramatic, all wide eyes and innocent head tilts as he starts to work his way down Sunjata’s body, hands preceding his eyes and his mouth. He has to break the contact against his face, but Nate leaves an indent of his fang in the other man’s thumb. “Don't want that. He murmurs, pressing a kiss to the attuned’s chest. The teeth in Sunjata’s mouth are the perfect mirror to remind Nate of his own fangs, sharp tips dragging along the meat of his husband’s pec. Teasing is only fun for as long as he isn’t depriving himself though, and it would be a lie to say that Nate’s mouth isn’t watering with anticipation, fluid tinted drool leaving a trail the lower he slips.

No sooner does he press a kiss to the waistband of Sunjata’s shorts than he’s rising up though, a wide smirk crossing Nate’s face. Four hands find their way into the waistband, each tugging very gently in a different direction while the ascended once again drinks in everything he can about the man beneath him.

A shaking breath is drawn in through Nate’s nose, more of the Floods scent filling his lungs. All at once the teasing tugs at the thin fabric yank, filling their bedroom with the momentary sound of shredding fabric as Nate tears away the only bit of separation between them. There’s not a moments hesitation before he leans between Sunjata’s legs, kisses and teasing nips layered along his inner thighs. Nate’s lips take an era to work their way up to the apex of Sunjata’s thighs. Strong arms curl around the demi-god’s hips to pull him slightly closer instead of Nate shifting, cool breath finally ghosting along Sunjata’s length.

star-spangled in my manner, shaking
every man's hand in the presidential manor, you see