SUNJATA
look who's digging their own grave
this is what they all say; you'll drink yourself to death
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.
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?
and what will you have left?
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.
