SUNJATA
the flood
'cause we might as well be blind,
if seeing is believing, this parable's misleading
if seeing is believing, this parable's misleading
“Undone?” He suggests, fully aware of his flush as his gaze remains half lidded upon her, keeping her in his sight despite the way he might look nonchalant about it. His hands continue to ghost across her skin, paying attention to the more sensitive parts of her body, lingering around her curves and breasts and relishing in the moan that leaves her lips, his own quirking slightly with the smirk that wishes to bloom despite him keeping it tempered down.
As she slips off the bed, though, to reorient herself without all of the hassle of clothes, one of his hands comes to rest behind his head, watching her through those slit pupils as he drinks her in and shuffles his legs ever so slightly to get the clothes to slip right off. He debates for a moment before he props himself up on an elbow to get just a bit closer to the warmth of her, cocking his head with all the arrogance he can muster up.
“Then take me.” He purrs the light demand, his voice throatier and dripping with his accent. He makes no move, however, because she’s told him she wishes to take control and Sunjata is more than content to let her. Instead, he sits there waiting for her with ache and desire, sat upon the plush covers of the bed, like a present for her to unwrap, throwing himself into the sea of this emotion because it was better than the alternative — especially after the day they’ve had.
As she slips off the bed, though, to reorient herself without all of the hassle of clothes, one of his hands comes to rest behind his head, watching her through those slit pupils as he drinks her in and shuffles his legs ever so slightly to get the clothes to slip right off. He debates for a moment before he props himself up on an elbow to get just a bit closer to the warmth of her, cocking his head with all the arrogance he can muster up.
“Then take me.” He purrs the light demand, his voice throatier and dripping with his accent. He makes no move, however, because she’s told him she wishes to take control and Sunjata is more than content to let her. Instead, he sits there waiting for her with ache and desire, sat upon the plush covers of the bed, like a present for her to unwrap, throwing himself into the sea of this emotion because it was better than the alternative — especially after the day they’ve had.
you've got your shotgun loaded with excuses
— that you'll fire in vain —
but those 12 rounds just won't do
— that you'll fire in vain —
but those 12 rounds just won't do
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.
