so what, my friend, whatever will it be?
i can give you what you crave, just not for free
i can give you what you crave, just not for free
The warm hand trail down his spine and Astaroth melts into that touch in turn, fitting himself even closer somehow against the blonde Ancient. His tail winds around his leg, keeping him anchored just as much as Danta’s touch does. “You are. And so am I.” He breathes out, finally finding comfort and content, finally allowing himself the moment to indulge in it rather than feeling as though he must stand on occasion, like he can’t truly say the things he wishes to say for fear of them being wrong.
Which, for the butcher, is a change. Since when did he care what he said to people and how they took it?
Well, since Danta happened.
Easily dropping his weight onto the Theocrat with a sigh of relief, his nose brushes against the other Ancient's pulse, eyes shutting and lashes brushing against the underside of the blonde’s jaw. “It’s alright. She’s fine. She sent me back my shirt, pressed and clean, and even suggested speaking to Frey to find something that may work to not run into the same issue again.” Long story short, another date might be on the table.
One hand lowers to stroke along the Maverick’s shoulder, the butcher running over old scars he’d caused. “My bite tore her shoulder when the tide jaguar appeared between us to push me away.” He admits on a whisper, and Danta would feel the frown that tugs on his face. “That is what got me back my mind.”
Which, for the butcher, is a change. Since when did he care what he said to people and how they took it?
Well, since Danta happened.
Easily dropping his weight onto the Theocrat with a sigh of relief, his nose brushes against the other Ancient's pulse, eyes shutting and lashes brushing against the underside of the blonde’s jaw. “It’s alright. She’s fine. She sent me back my shirt, pressed and clean, and even suggested speaking to Frey to find something that may work to not run into the same issue again.” Long story short, another date might be on the table.
One hand lowers to stroke along the Maverick’s shoulder, the butcher running over old scars he’d caused. “My bite tore her shoulder when the tide jaguar appeared between us to push me away.” He admits on a whisper, and Danta would feel the frown that tugs on his face. “That is what got me back my mind.”
Astaroth
you know what's on the line
