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
Rolling his eyes and sighing quietly, Astaroth simply lets the Maverick press his hand to his chest. His pulse still thunders, but it appears to be smoothing out as the seconds go by, as he uncharacteristically worries at his lip, drawing blood and making comments in that voice that is both his and isn’t.
The blonde Ancient’s hand is warm as it guides his face back and his dark eyes seem impossibly darker as he meets the blues of the Maverick. Somehow, the admission sparks a humorless snort, his eyes softening a little as they regain some life back into them. “We were both just fucked up pawns.” He says on a whisper, blood bubbling back up to the surface now that he isn’t fucking with it, spreading through the cracks of his lips when he speaks.
His hand remains ghosting along faded scars, head tilting slightly as Danta shifts, watching in a bit of surprise as the other man suddenly blankets him in turn, reversing their prior positions. Both hands find him now, resting against his sides and hips as he leans in for a kiss that Astaroth isn’t entirely sure how to feel about. He decides that its soothing, though, and he gives into it gently, pressing back into it and sharing the split of his lip and the blood that comes from it.
When they part and the reminder is there, his hand lifts to rub at his temple, wincing slightly before he reaches up to cup the side of Danta’s face. “You’re right.” He admits quietly, voice returning to something more familiar. “I have a reputation to uphold.” The joke falls on a whisper, even as a ghost of a smile creases the corners of his eyes, his pulse fading from its rapid pace as he leans up to steal another kiss.
The blonde Ancient’s hand is warm as it guides his face back and his dark eyes seem impossibly darker as he meets the blues of the Maverick. Somehow, the admission sparks a humorless snort, his eyes softening a little as they regain some life back into them. “We were both just fucked up pawns.” He says on a whisper, blood bubbling back up to the surface now that he isn’t fucking with it, spreading through the cracks of his lips when he speaks.
His hand remains ghosting along faded scars, head tilting slightly as Danta shifts, watching in a bit of surprise as the other man suddenly blankets him in turn, reversing their prior positions. Both hands find him now, resting against his sides and hips as he leans in for a kiss that Astaroth isn’t entirely sure how to feel about. He decides that its soothing, though, and he gives into it gently, pressing back into it and sharing the split of his lip and the blood that comes from it.
When they part and the reminder is there, his hand lifts to rub at his temple, wincing slightly before he reaches up to cup the side of Danta’s face. “You’re right.” He admits quietly, voice returning to something more familiar. “I have a reputation to uphold.” The joke falls on a whisper, even as a ghost of a smile creases the corners of his eyes, his pulse fading from its rapid pace as he leans up to steal another kiss.
Astaroth
i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////
