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
The free admission is enough to grant Astaroth enough of a boon to offer more of a reward, hands attempting to unbutton the shiny buttons on the other man’s shirt only to be impeded quite delightfully by the chaos unraveled from Danta. It’s a slight fight, with only one button undone as he’s pulled forward, body pressed hard against the other man with his own hands pinned between them against both of their chests.
It’s enough for the slight oomph to slip from the butcher, poured into Danta’s mouth with a keening lilt to the sound at the spark of iron and the warmth of blood rising to the surface on his lip. Like a shark in water, Astaroth presses into it even as his breath hitches with the force of his hands pinned against his sore and bruised chest, chasing and sharing the delightful addition to the heat of the moment.
Distracting himself, he forces one of his hands out from being smashed between their bodies, threading roughly through loose blonde strands to deepen the kiss that much more, tilting Danta’s chin up to meet his height better. His other hand tries to wiggle between them enough to stubbornly unbutton the next portion of Danta’s shirt, body tensing slightly with each movement as it presses against still sore bruises.
It’s enough for the slight oomph to slip from the butcher, poured into Danta’s mouth with a keening lilt to the sound at the spark of iron and the warmth of blood rising to the surface on his lip. Like a shark in water, Astaroth presses into it even as his breath hitches with the force of his hands pinned against his sore and bruised chest, chasing and sharing the delightful addition to the heat of the moment.
Distracting himself, he forces one of his hands out from being smashed between their bodies, threading roughly through loose blonde strands to deepen the kiss that much more, tilting Danta’s chin up to meet his height better. His other hand tries to wiggle between them enough to stubbornly unbutton the next portion of Danta’s shirt, body tensing slightly with each movement as it presses against still sore bruises.
Astaroth
i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////
