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
Smirking in spite of himself, the butcher’s eyes glitter with mischief in the face of the coy look shot back up at him, hands finding the table on either side of the Maverick to plant himself precisely right there in his space, invading and taunting, even as Danta’s warm hands pop open another button on his disheveled shirt. “Do you deserve my teasing or taunting for the things you have done tonight?” He reiterates the point, leaning in if only to press that hand against his unblemished hip a bit harder.
One hand lifts from the table, immediately seeking out the sharp jut of his jaw, lifting it with a touch more force than is necessary to ensure their eyes lock. More mischief sparkles in the dark honey of his eyes, his shark grin on display as he drifts in just close enough to give a whisper of a kiss to the other Ancient’s lips, before withdrawing and releasing his jaw to slip his hand down to the fine shirt he wears as the butcher stands up straight, still pressed between Danta’s legs.
“Tell me your accolades and I shall judge them.” It’s stubborn and playful, with all the air of old arrogance and cockiness the butcher had been known for. Depending on the decisions, it could result in praise or a playful variant of punishment. He leaves that precisely in the Theocrat’s court with a cocky grin.
One hand lifts from the table, immediately seeking out the sharp jut of his jaw, lifting it with a touch more force than is necessary to ensure their eyes lock. More mischief sparkles in the dark honey of his eyes, his shark grin on display as he drifts in just close enough to give a whisper of a kiss to the other Ancient’s lips, before withdrawing and releasing his jaw to slip his hand down to the fine shirt he wears as the butcher stands up straight, still pressed between Danta’s legs.
“Tell me your accolades and I shall judge them.” It’s stubborn and playful, with all the air of old arrogance and cockiness the butcher had been known for. Depending on the decisions, it could result in praise or a playful variant of punishment. He leaves that precisely in the Theocrat’s court with a cocky grin.
Astaroth
i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////
