black magic preacher

so give me your prayers up on your feet
and i'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats

“There’s nothing to apologize for.” Astaroth rumbles, keeping Danta close to his chest, arms looping around him while the other threads through the Maverick’s blonde hair. The ice cold of Danta’s fingertips spark a little shiver against the heat from his skin and the wound that pulses with heat alongside the roaring fireplace. He keeps Danta pressed against him as he walks them back toward the bed, collecting the wine and glasses as he goes, before sitting properly on the bed and pulling Danta into his lap.

A low breathy rumble leaves him akin to a laugh as well, though perhaps a bit more awkwardly, uncorking the wine behind the Maverick, juggling it and the glasses. “You looked like you were considering killing me.” He drawls, chin brushing against Danta’s head as he pours one glass, leaning back a little to hand him one. “I am sorry for the things I did back then.” He murmurs, rounding his own glass back to the front of the Maverick now, dark gaze focusing intensely on him.

The cane remains somewhere on the floor far enough away that he doesn’t have to think about it too much. Right now his focus is on the blonde in his lap.

Astaroth

so give me your sins, give me your lies
but whisper your love, and i'll whisper mine