NATE
i would do anything for you to love me,
like i'm an american hero, baby
like i'm an american hero, baby
“I could listen to you forever, Sonskyn.” Praise presses into Sunjata’s skin, warm blue gaze finding the Floods face and sparkling. Honestly, Nate could die here again and be happy, would thank the Grim Reaper and whatever God claims his soul that this was his last act on earth. He’d beg for just a little more time, too, but there wouldn’t be too much he could complain about if it was denied.
It’s Sunjata’s tone that throws the first stone, that ripples in the clear blue pools of Nate’s eyes and wakes something slumbering deep below. It’s not wrong, much of Nate has been slumbering, but this is new, if only in its scale, it’s breadth. “You won’t.” He breaths, a clear trail of saliva overflowing off his tongue to land between Sunjata’s legs. “And if you do… dan sal ek jou terugbring.” Nate pauses then, just a moment, just long enough to lick his lips and make them shine. “Soos jy vir my gedoen het.”
Without any further hesitation, Nate drops, welcoming Sunjata’s cock into his mouth, his throat. The ascended moans, tongue moving to catch every distant hint of Sunjata’s taste, then draws back, starting a slow, thorough rhythm. Lifting up and sucking, teeth dragging and drool gathering at the corners of his lips, and then sinking down without a sound other than the deep groan that rumbles out of his throat. Nate’s fingers dig into Sunjata’s thighs, leaving behind red marks, and under the staticky fingers bruises begin to take shape.
It’s Sunjata’s tone that throws the first stone, that ripples in the clear blue pools of Nate’s eyes and wakes something slumbering deep below. It’s not wrong, much of Nate has been slumbering, but this is new, if only in its scale, it’s breadth. “You won’t.” He breaths, a clear trail of saliva overflowing off his tongue to land between Sunjata’s legs. “And if you do… dan sal ek jou terugbring.” Nate pauses then, just a moment, just long enough to lick his lips and make them shine. “Soos jy vir my gedoen het.”
Without any further hesitation, Nate drops, welcoming Sunjata’s cock into his mouth, his throat. The ascended moans, tongue moving to catch every distant hint of Sunjata’s taste, then draws back, starting a slow, thorough rhythm. Lifting up and sucking, teeth dragging and drool gathering at the corners of his lips, and then sinking down without a sound other than the deep groan that rumbles out of his throat. Nate’s fingers dig into Sunjata’s thighs, leaving behind red marks, and under the staticky fingers bruises begin to take shape.
star-spangled in my manner, shaking
every man's hand in the presidential manor, you see
every man's hand in the presidential manor, you see
