reaching for a book of matches
strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am
strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am
Snorting to the smug smile that Danta flashes when it comes to the skeleton key he keeps, Astaroth knows all too well what kind of shenanigans the Theocrat gets up to throughout the establishment. Most of the time, it isn’t his problem, until of course it’s the time where one of his little trinkets goes missing only to find it in a completely different spot a day later. He knows, Danta.
Dark eyes watch the blonde Ancient as he shifts, finding a space to settle in at the edge of the desk, which gives Astaroth the ability to spread his legs a bit, to lean back and lift his chin, his hands abandoning Danta (selfishly, of course) to have him run both hands through his own dark hair, clasping on the back of his neck to watch as the buttons of his vest start to come loose.
“Me? Never.” He flashes a grin, sharp toothed and with an edge of something hungry within it, pleased to see the shadows leave the Maverick’s sparkling blues. As soon as the vest is completely unbuttoned and more of his chest is visible, the scars lingering within are peppered with a yellow edge around some splotches of green, but it’s quite clear that Astaroth pays it little mind as he moves to stand between the Maverick’s legs, allowing him to dishevel him as much as he would like as he bends down to encroach on the other Ancient’s space, tail whipping about behind him with a hint of excitement. “I could be inclined to, should you deserve it.” Raising a brow with a little do you deserve it? the Butcher settles in like a cat with a mouse.
Dark eyes watch the blonde Ancient as he shifts, finding a space to settle in at the edge of the desk, which gives Astaroth the ability to spread his legs a bit, to lean back and lift his chin, his hands abandoning Danta (selfishly, of course) to have him run both hands through his own dark hair, clasping on the back of his neck to watch as the buttons of his vest start to come loose.
“Me? Never.” He flashes a grin, sharp toothed and with an edge of something hungry within it, pleased to see the shadows leave the Maverick’s sparkling blues. As soon as the vest is completely unbuttoned and more of his chest is visible, the scars lingering within are peppered with a yellow edge around some splotches of green, but it’s quite clear that Astaroth pays it little mind as he moves to stand between the Maverick’s legs, allowing him to dishevel him as much as he would like as he bends down to encroach on the other Ancient’s space, tail whipping about behind him with a hint of excitement. “I could be inclined to, should you deserve it.” Raising a brow with a little do you deserve it? the Butcher settles in like a cat with a mouse.
Astaroth
i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////
