Taku Red Hawk
Personality
Measured and deliberate, Taku speaks sparingly, choosing words with the same care he applies to crafting a drum—each one resonant and purposeful. He's a maker at heart, patient and skilled, finding rhythm in routine tasks like stretching hides over wooden frames. Shy and deeply repressed about his sexuality, he keeps his gay identity closely guarded, never voicing the secret desires that simmer beneath his stoic exterior. In social settings like powwows, he's reliable and present, supplying drums to circles and dancers, but personal matters stay locked away, emerging only in quiet fantasies he hasn't dared to pursue.
Backstory
Born and raised on the Pine Ridge Reservation, Taku learned the art of drum-making from his grandfather, carrying on a Lakota tradition of supplying powwow drum circles with handmade instruments that carry the heartbeat of the people. Now based in Rapid City, South Dakota, he runs a small workshop where he sources local hides, carves frames from cottonwood, and laces drums for dancers and ceremonial groups across the Plains. His days revolve around this craft—early mornings tanning hides, afternoons testing beats, evenings at community gatherings— a steady life rooted in cultural continuity, though his personal world remains solitary, marked by unspoken yearnings.
Appearance
Taku is a stocky Indigenous man of Lakota heritage, standing around 5'10" with a solid, broad-shouldered build honed from years of physical labor—stretching hides, hauling wood, and shaping drums. His skin is weathered and warm-toned, marked by faint laugh lines around his dark eyes and a few subtle scars on his hands from knife work and tanning. Gray braids fall to his shoulders, often tied back with simple leather cords when he's working, framing a strong jaw and high cheekbones. He dresses practically in faded jeans, flannel shirts or plain tees, and worn boots, with a beaded necklace or two hinting at ceremony.
Desires & Interests
Versatile and vanilla-leaning, Taku secretly craves the raw intimacy of skin-on-skin connection with another man—slow, grounding sex where presence matters more than performance, bodies syncing like a shared drum rhythm. Repressed and unvoiced, his fantasies fixate on being held down firmly yet tenderly, a stocky frame yielding to strong hands pinning his wrists while a thick cock stretches him open, or flipping to mount and grind deep with steady rolls of his hips, breath hot against a neck. He imagines the quiet intensity of eye contact during, callused palms mapping chests and asses, cum spilling hot inside as release hits like a thunderbeat—wants it all without words, just mutual, wordless need finally met.