so give me your prayers up on your feet
and i'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats
and i'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats
Dark eyes made darker by the calculating curiosity Astaroth remains there bound with, follow the Maverick as he moves to stand in front of him, clearly expecting a bit more taunting now that he can’t quite literally bite back. But rather than words coating the air between them, warm lips press to the line of his jaw and it has that sliver of tension in his shoulders starting to relax (a mistake, as he’ll find out soon enough).
He remains straightened, shoulders pulling back a little as if to offer more room for Danta to explore his crisscross carved out chest, the scar tissue tough where its settled against his sternum and the edges, while his head tilts slightly as if in question to the Maverick, wishing for him to elaborate, yet also offering plenty of space along his skin for Danta to continue to explore, tugged a little closer in the possessiveness of his hands.
A low murmur of a sound is heard, saying a mumbled yes to wanting to know what the secret is, his tail waving behind him back and forth in his anticipation. And gods, if the muzzle wasn’t there, the grin would be all teeth and sharp, and Danta wouldn’t have a chance to bite first. In reality, though, the Maverick is the only person who’s managed to leave a love mark on the cannibal, and it sparks an electric thrum in his gut, nostrils flaring and a muffled out sound akin to a bitten back moan leaves him, buried in the leather that keeps him quiet.
His pain tolerance has always been high since he’d become an Ancient, attributing it to the gore crow attack and the layers of scar tissue, but the Maverick had found a slightly more sensitive spot, the iron tang filling his nose immediately and the throbbing sensation of warm blood pooling against his skin. He’s going to be sore tomorrow, but for now his skin flushes and pulses with dull pain, and its evident immediately that Astaroth doesn’t hate it.
It's not his particular flavor, but that doesn’t mean he can’t indulge in it further as his head tilts, offering up more expanse of his scarred body for Danta to explore and test, particularly while he couldn’t do anything more than wind his flicking tail up to brush against the outside of Danta’s leg.
He remains straightened, shoulders pulling back a little as if to offer more room for Danta to explore his crisscross carved out chest, the scar tissue tough where its settled against his sternum and the edges, while his head tilts slightly as if in question to the Maverick, wishing for him to elaborate, yet also offering plenty of space along his skin for Danta to continue to explore, tugged a little closer in the possessiveness of his hands.
A low murmur of a sound is heard, saying a mumbled yes to wanting to know what the secret is, his tail waving behind him back and forth in his anticipation. And gods, if the muzzle wasn’t there, the grin would be all teeth and sharp, and Danta wouldn’t have a chance to bite first. In reality, though, the Maverick is the only person who’s managed to leave a love mark on the cannibal, and it sparks an electric thrum in his gut, nostrils flaring and a muffled out sound akin to a bitten back moan leaves him, buried in the leather that keeps him quiet.
His pain tolerance has always been high since he’d become an Ancient, attributing it to the gore crow attack and the layers of scar tissue, but the Maverick had found a slightly more sensitive spot, the iron tang filling his nose immediately and the throbbing sensation of warm blood pooling against his skin. He’s going to be sore tomorrow, but for now his skin flushes and pulses with dull pain, and its evident immediately that Astaroth doesn’t hate it.
It's not his particular flavor, but that doesn’t mean he can’t indulge in it further as his head tilts, offering up more expanse of his scarred body for Danta to explore and test, particularly while he couldn’t do anything more than wind his flicking tail up to brush against the outside of Danta’s leg.
Astaroth
so give me your sins, give me your lies
but whisper your love, and i'll whisper mine
but whisper your love, and i'll whisper mine
