i've always liked to play with fire

Astaroth

// i ride the edge, my speed goes in the red //

“It is.” The butcher hums as he grows just malleable enough to let Danta’s free hand cup his jaw, the flame reflected in his eyes as it begins to lick against his cheeks gently and spark such a warmth that Astaroth relaxes immediately into the touch. The light turns his eyes a golden hue of brown as opposed to the dark bottomless depths as before, and its those eyes that crinkle into a sharp grin as he tilts his head and focuses just enough to curve part of Danta’s flame down his wrist not unlike a lover’s caress. “How charming.” He murmurs gently, before his gaze and Danta’s hand drops away to continue to open the gift.

The smirk is met with the very same, content sharp edged grin, as he sits back a fraction to watch as Danta slips it on, tail flicking idly up and down as he waits. Now, he doesn’t expect it to be such a sight as Danta spreads his hands and stands before the fire, and it’s evident in the speechlessness that overcomes the butcher so very much unlike him. Dark eyes take in each and every way the gold seems to melt against his skin yet reflect the dancing flames of the fire and his grin twists a bit more full of surprise before he leans forward, as if beckoning the Maverick to return to him.

“You look beautiful.” He comments at first, still taking him in with full appreciation. “Like the sun on a longheat day.” Like if I could sit here forever in front of you, I might never know what it’s like to be cold.

// hot blood, these veins, my pleasure is their pain //