NATE
i would do anything for you to love me,
like i'm an american hero, baby
like i'm an american hero, baby
All the hand twisting in his hair does is make Nate keen around Sunjata’s cock in his throat. A third finger presses into the attuned quickly (maybe too quickly), Nate rushing as if he’s trying to see how quickly he can tip Sunjata into his orgasm. He feels more than see the mess he’s making, the drool gathering at his chin. The holographic hand wrapped around Sunjata’s horn drags his head back up, so their eyes can meet. So Nate can watch the other fall apart under his touch. So Sunjata can watch him watching.
Nate tries to drag as much as he can out of the moment, his fingers slowing from a frenzied push to a languid stroke. He just barely resists the urge to swallow, though Sunjata will be able to see the way his eyes roll up if he’s paying attention. Satisfaction wafts off the ascended in gentle waves, but Nate waits to act on it until Sunjata has had most of a chance to catch his breath again.
Lingering where he is after he pulls off Sunjata, Nate presses a handful of kisses to his husbands thighs. They’re gentle by necessity, his lips staying sealed as he rises up again, four hands working together to drag Sunjata down until they’re face to face. Nate takes a moment just to look at his husband, fingers lifting to brush away a strand of hair from Sunjata’s forehead. A crease presses between Nate’s brows, the last dam between the depth of his obsession and the light of day, though he patches it quickly by crashing his lips into the attuned, his tongue pressing into his mouth.
Nate tries to drag as much as he can out of the moment, his fingers slowing from a frenzied push to a languid stroke. He just barely resists the urge to swallow, though Sunjata will be able to see the way his eyes roll up if he’s paying attention. Satisfaction wafts off the ascended in gentle waves, but Nate waits to act on it until Sunjata has had most of a chance to catch his breath again.
Lingering where he is after he pulls off Sunjata, Nate presses a handful of kisses to his husbands thighs. They’re gentle by necessity, his lips staying sealed as he rises up again, four hands working together to drag Sunjata down until they’re face to face. Nate takes a moment just to look at his husband, fingers lifting to brush away a strand of hair from Sunjata’s forehead. A crease presses between Nate’s brows, the last dam between the depth of his obsession and the light of day, though he patches it quickly by crashing his lips into the attuned, his tongue pressing into his mouth.
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
