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 laugh that spills from Danta’s throat is one paired with the rumble of laughter that leaves the Butcher’s own, amused at the fact that neither of them move as if knowing it was such a blatant lie. “Off I go, then.” Astaroth hums, still draped and pressing in all around Danta as if this was precisely the plan all along.
Of course, then he moves, and Astaroth’s head tilts up, nose brushing against the other Ancient’s collarbone before blood stained lips press against the skin there. “It was like it never stopped.” He agrees with a soft sigh, contemplative for the moment, before he shifts to prop his bearded chin up on Danta’s collarbone, watching him with dark eyes glittering with his own curiosity. “When I became Ancient and they gave me my room, I did not actually sleep for a month.” A dark brow lifts as if to punctuate the same point. “It was impossible with all that racket.”
Of course, then he moves, and Astaroth’s head tilts up, nose brushing against the other Ancient’s collarbone before blood stained lips press against the skin there. “It was like it never stopped.” He agrees with a soft sigh, contemplative for the moment, before he shifts to prop his bearded chin up on Danta’s collarbone, watching him with dark eyes glittering with his own curiosity. “When I became Ancient and they gave me my room, I did not actually sleep for a month.” A dark brow lifts as if to punctuate the same point. “It was impossible with all that racket.”
Astaroth
i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////
